#maybe i will ramble this time more then usually

[kirby-the-gorb]

[official-bunbun]

you all asked for more, here you go yall

I have four additional (lower effort) doodles for the concept done cuz god DAMN did yall go nuts over the last post and while im slightly overwhelmed by the attention i am VERY appreciative of it

ANYWAY, TO THE DOODLES & CONCEPT RAMBLES

Firstly, i've decided that the Cosmo player will be able to move, but with a VERY limited range - a similar model to Razzle & Dazzle's vines but with thorns and maybe single thick vines rather than several smaller ones? That would act as how far Cosmo can go, and the place for other players to avoid or else they'll be damaged by Sprout

I also had the thought of maybe, Sprout could heal the Cosmo he takes? But only when he attacks one of the other players - so like a reverse of Cosmo's usual mechanic! One heart healed per player hit, maxing out at 2 hearts since the Cosmo can't get damaged while in Sprout's circle

Speaking of his heals - He wouldn't be able to do so! Even if he's able to reach a player without leaving the circle nor the other person getting damaged, he'll be stopped from using it since healing people damages him

And finally - The cosmo can try to leave, technically. But will be stopped each time up to a point. Eventually, though.. Sprout will become agitated. Why is his friend trying to leave? Why is he abandoning him like this? So, after enough attempts, he'll let him go... but he'll go on a rampage trying to kill everyone in sight. It is INCREDIBLY difficult to outrun him, and he has a very high attention span too. He's P I S S E D.

It is not advised for the Cosmo to try to leave Sprout

There might be a part 3 to this at some point, i dunno yet but we'll see!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Wet Dreams [Frankie x reader]

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (gn!reader, no body descriptions)

Warnings: Nocturnal emission, lil bit of a handjob and teasing.

Summary: Frankie has a wet dream and cums in his pants in his sleep. That's the plot.

Words: 871

A/N: Thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple for going YAY when I said I was writing something <3

Something drags you out of dreamland, and you slowly become aware of the darkness surrounding you, Frankie's warm body next to yours. Blinking as you turn your head to catch the time from the bedside table digital clock, you note that it's only three-thirty. Turning your head back on the pillow, facing Frankie, you think that you maybe woke him up with your small movement, because he's moving as well. His hips push against the covers that have bunched between the two of you, and you wait for him to put his arm around you and pull you closer, like he so often does when he wakes up at night.

But he doesn't do that. Instead, he whimpers. You frown, more awake now, and wait for the next sign of life. His breathing is a little shaky, but when you carefully put your hand on his shoulder, he's relaxed and indeed in deep sleep. You scoot closer, settling in for more sleep, but as soon as your leg touches his, he moves again, his breath stuttering.

"Frankie?" you whisper, thinking for a moment that he's having a nightmare. He's well-adjusted to being a civilian, but not without ghosts. The nights are usually when he's haunted by the things he has seen and done.

This, however, feels different.

He sighs now, the sound bordering on a moan, he moves his pelvis again. It brushes up against you, and you feel his stiff shaft trapped in his underwear.

You smile a little then, realizing what is going on. Frankie has woken you up in the middle of the night before, all tongue and hands on your sleepy body, but you've never seen this before. Waiting a while to see what happens, you listen to Frankie's breathing, feel the warmth that he radiates, and wait for him to wake up. When he doesn't, you carefully place your hand on his hip. He immediately twitches, rubbing himself against the covers, and now you. You resist the urge to reach for him, to rub him through his underwear, instead opting for a light touch on his hip. Your lower regions grow heavy and throbbing as you listen to his soft sounds, and you hope that he'll wake himself up, wanting you. But you don't want to wake him up yourself.

You inch closer, lifting your head off the pillow so that you can lean in and moan softly into Frankie's ear. He responds with a quiet moan of his own, legs twitching. Very delicately, you trace your fingers over his hard cock, smiling when it trembles underneath the fabric. The covers whisper when you move your fingers over his cock, your gut clenching when Frankie moans again. God, the sounds this man makes! Only he can make you so crazy and emotional at the same time. This man is yours, he adores you, he desires you, and you desire him and adore him and love him and...

Gently, you place your palm over his bulge. Frankie chokes momentarily, then whines, and you feel his cock pulsate. The front of his boxers grows wet, and the salty-musky smell of semen spreads from under the covers. Well, that was easy.

"Oh, my sweet man," you mumble before inching closer and wrapping one arm around Frankie's waist. He snorts out a cute little snore but doesn't wake up, and you ignore the throbbing between your legs, instead letting sleep pull you under.

You drift apart during the remainder of the night. When you wake up in the morning, you have to roll over to face Frankie, who's slowly blinking his eyes open.

"Morning," you mumble with a light kiss to the tip of his nose. "Sleep well?"

"Perfect," he yawns, then smiles at you. "Had a good dream."

"Yeah?"

"You were in it..." He leans in, nuzzles your neck, moves closer, but then stops and checks himself. A frown lines his forehead, and you know he can feel it: the crusty, dried cum in his underwear, the smell of it reaching his nostrils when he moves.

"You okay?" you ask innocently, and he nods slowly.

"M-hmm."

"You don't look okay."

"I'm not sure..." He moves again, hand in front of his pants. Even in the sparse light, you can see the color rising in his cheeks.

"Babe, I think I... had a wet dream about you. And I..." He licks his lips nervously.

"You came in your underpants," you finish the sentence for him, now reaching for his hand under the covers. Lovingly and a little teasingly, you place his hand over his crotch.

"I was awake. You kept moaning and jerking your hips. I barely touched you, and you came."

You kiss him again, this time on his lips, tasting the staleness of his morning breath.

"It was super hot, Frankie."

"Yeah?" Slightly flustered now, his eyes are still cast down, long, thick lashes kissing his cheekbones.

"You remember what you were dreaming about?" you prompt him in a low voice, now releasing his hand and instead rubbing him yourself. "What did I do in the dream?"

He groans, but tells you. And by the time he has told you the entire dream, he's spilled over your hand.

[jermer10]

For a fic request, Soldier slowly falls in love with the reader and constantly denies it because he feels like a strong American man shouldn't have butterflies in his stomach every time he sees a pretty person.

TF2 in the trenches | soldier x reader

gn reader | soldier is so awesome love that guy, sorry for the comically long wait time and enjoy mr artoatsblog and eris090 <3

drabbles under the cut :P

You had just joined the administration team as a fresh recruit, assigned to the role of Civilian - a object of protection. You weren't a fan of the title, nor the nature of your role. Having to be escorted across the map by whichever team had you that week, putting up with the fretting and the comments, as if you were a hassle more than an important part of your workplace. If the pay wasn't so good, you would have left on your first day. Most mercs not-so-secretly reveled in the idea of getting to play the hero, the RED Soldier, however, was more than happy to ignore you. An intimidating presence on the battlefield, barking orders and rarely engaging with anyone outside of his explosive rants. His helmet shadowed his face, making it even harder to connect with him on any personal level.

But still, something about him drew you in. Maybe it was his unwavering determination, or perhaps the way he threw himself into danger without hesitation. Whatever it was, you wanted to get to know the man behind the helmet. Your first few attempts to speak with Soldier didn’t go well. He wasn’t rude, but his responses were curt, clipped, and filled with military jargon you didn’t quite understand. “Sir! I just wanted to thank you for covering me on the battlefield earlier,” you said one day after a particularly rough mission. He stopped polishing his rocket launcher just long enough to give you a sideways glance. “IT WAS NOTHING, MAGGOT. JUST DOING MY PART TO FIGHT THIS WAR AGAINST THOSE COMMIE SISSIES!” He left all too quickly, rambling about something in the kitchen.

You nodded, feeling a little defeated. Every day, you tried a little harder to get through to him. You’d help him clean his gear, bring him his favorite rations, and even offer to spar with him during training. Yet, each interaction ended the same way - short, jargon filled responses and some quick reason to leave. The first time you managed to break down one of his walls was after a particularly shitty week. The team had lost, and everyone was exhausted. You found Soldier sitting alone outside, staring at the rain falling on the muddy battlefield. His usual brash energy was nowhere to be found. “You alright, Soldier?” you asked cautiously, approaching him. “You don’t usually sit still this long.”

He grunted but didn’t tell you to go away. Encouraged, you sat beside him. “I know today was tough,” you said gently. “But we’ll bounce back. We always do.” For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “Lost too many good men in my time,” he said quietly, surprising you. “Can’t afford to lose any more. Not again.” The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. This was the first time he’d spoken to you like a person, not a recruit or a subordinate. You carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, half-expecting him to pull away.

He didn’t.

“We’re not going anywhere,” you reassured him softly. “You’ve got our backs, and we’ve got yours.” You understood his feelings of inadequacy. Soldier finally turned to face you, his eyes, usually so stern, softening just a little. You had no idea what Soldier's life was like before taking this job, the things he had seen, the things he had done. The mercs couldn't die, but you both knew he pushed them a little too hard sometimes. Finding someone to take their place in the family the team had built, well Soldier wouldn't admit it, but it would hurt. “You’re a strange one, recruit,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “But... you’ve got guts. More than I gave you credit for.” You smiled.

The next few days were different. Soldier still barked orders and rambled about war as per usual, but there was a subtle shift in how he interacted with you. He didn’t brush you off as quickly when you approached him, and every so often, he’d even seek you out himself, whether to talk strategy or simply share a meal in silence. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for you to notice - and enough for him to realize he was letting his guard down. That realization, of course, did not sit well with Soldier.

He found himself more aware of you whenever you were around. At first, it was just an occasional glance, a brief acknowledgment. But soon enough, it was much more than that. He noticed things about you he hadn’t before: the way you smiled when you talked, the way you styled you hair differently for every mission, and how, despite the constant chaos around you, you managed to stay calm and collected.

And that was the problem.

Soldier wasn’t supposed to notice those things. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything other than the drive to win the war and keep you safe as part of his duty. But now, every time you crossed his mind, there was that familiar, frustrating feeling - his stomach tightening, chest warming in a way that made him want to scream at himself. He refused to let it happen.

The next time he had approached you, it was after a flawless mission. You were sitting off some ledge somewhere, bottle of whisky in hand and a pleasant look on your face. He felt hot and awkward - he knew the next day you had to go over to the BLU's, and he hated knowing that he would have to try and kill you in order to prevent the enemies from winning. He also knew he had feelings for you - some not so 'professional workplace relationship' feelings, and trying to explain them to you of all people was so easy yet so hard.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already leaning down to sit. You smiled up at him. "Yeah, could do with some company." You passed the bottle between one another, taking swigs and cracking jokes, discussing the recent victory you had shared. After a few moments of silence, you noticed that Soldier kept sneaking glances at you from under his helmet, his jaw tight. You tilted your head, curious. “Is something bothering you?” He slammed the almost empty bottle onto the wooden planks of the flooring next to you, clearly frustrated with something - though it seemed like the frustration was directed more at himself than at you. “This- this isn’t right!” he finally snapped.

You blinked, startled by the outburst. “What isn’t right?”

“You!” Soldier pointed at you with a gloved finger, his voice rising. “You keep... getting in my head. I can’t focus! Every time I turn around, there you are, smiling and asking questions, making me think about - about things I shouldn’t be thinking about!” Your eyes widened as realization hit. “Soldier, wh- are you saying-?”

“No!” he interrupted, his voice gruff. “I’m not saying anything! I’m a soldier! I don’t have time for... whatever this is.” There it was. The vulnerability he had been fighting against for so long. He hated feeling weak, and these feelings, whatever they were, were making him feel weak. But now that it was out in the open, there was no taking it back. You were startled, confused, and feeling the same churning feeling in your chest and warmth spreading over your face that he was. “It’s okay to care about people, Soldier,” you said softly, your voice calm. “It doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it makes you stronger.”

For a long moment, Soldier didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his expression unreadable beneath the brim of his helmet. Then, finally, he let out a long, defeated sigh. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, but there was no real bite in his words. “I don’t like... feeling like this.” You smiled, a small, understanding smile. “You don’t have to like it. But you don’t have to fight it either.” Soldier processed your words, chewing at his bottom lip. Then, with another resigned grunt, he nodded. “Fine,” he said gruffly. “But don’t think this means I’m going soft, maggot.”

You laughed softly. “I wouldn’t dare.”

And for the first time, Soldier didn’t try to deny what was happening between the two of you. He might not have fully understood it yet, but he was no longer running from it either.

[bougiebutchbinch]

Hey hai, sorry for the long ask but I wanted to hand deliver a snippet to you if that's okay, cus I'm half way through the stone trans top logan fic and am way too excited to finish it (obviously you don't have to post this, I'm just writin for sillys :3 and I wish I could put a -read more- cut in an ask)

Logan was sick and tired of Wade. Well, not Wade, he could never get tired of Wade, he was tired of Wade's non-stop never-ending jokes. Well, some of the jokes-

Dammit he was pissed off at Wade's sex jokes.

He was always putting jokes everywhere where they didn't belong and usually Logan just ignored him, but in the past few days the jokes were getting less and less varied in their subject. All about how good a fuck would be and all the things he would do to Logan in bed and Logan had to stop himself from growling whenever the man even joked about his dick anywhere near Logan.

Sure it wasn't Wade's fault he felt his way, but nothing was going inside him, and that was final.

And one night they were down at a bar, neither drinking much, Logan needed to cut down on his alcohol and Wade was enjoying sipping at his stupid fruity cocktail.

He scowled as he brought his beer back up to his lips.

Wade had brought his suit mask, pulled up to his nose as he sipped, wearing some shitty hawiian shirt or oter, obnoxious kahki shorts that clashed horrendously, knee high white socks with sneakers, and he didnt know what the fuck kinda look wade was going for but it sure was something, logan just chose to come out in his flannel and tank top and jeans, his outfit he felt most comfortable in, although the jeans were pissing him the hell off too, maybe that was just because they couldnt hold the shape of his packer and it looked like he had no dick, he really hated to admit how self concoius he felt going round outside when he felt he didnt look right.

But he could distract himself from those feelings by letting himself get pissed off by wade.

Wade, who now he had tuned back into the mans ramblings, he realised he was talking about logan, apparently his favourite topic of conversation,

“Y’know I'm not a natural bottom, but I'd be willing to do anything for you, babygirl!”

Logan just turned his head round very slowly, ever so slight fuzz of alcohol feeling comforting instead of drowning,

“Yeah yeah haha, real funny wade.”

Wade looked over at him with a grin, this was the first time Logan replied to him all night,

“Who said I was joking peanut?”

Logan hesitated for a moment before scoffing,

“Take off your mask and look me in the eyes while you say that and I might just believe you.”

SKDJFGKLJDSFGSDF I AM ABOUT TO GO TO UNI YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO MEEEE

I have to sit in lectures all day and pretend I'm not thinking about Wade getting absolutely fucking WRECKED. this is going to haunt me. haunt me. :screams:

Also I love how every time Wade says 'not a natural bottom' you can just TELL he is lying. The lady doth protest too much, etc. etc. etc.

Logan's packer-woes are relatable, lmaoooo. I love him and I am so excited for this. Seriously. Thank you and everyone else who's also latched onto this headcanon - having more rep with the character I'm majorly projecting onto really does mean the world!

I can tell this fic is gonna be great fun already.... I can't wait.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

player!killer and anomaly!dust

since these ideas have been invading my brain lately, i feel like i need to ramble about the toxic (doomed) kist potential they have.

imagine the game world of dusttale trying to correct itself ever since the anomaly/virus that is killer entered it. so things in the world start to glitch and don't make sense. a character repeats their lines over and over without stopping. shortcuts stop working properly. character stats inexplicably get messed up. goners start appearing to warn dust and killer about the end of the world. it's nearing its doomed timeline trajectory, and yet dust will not give up trying to salvage his universe. in his mind, there's one surefire way to get everything back to normal: exterminate the virus that is killer.

dust and killer (and the goners and the almagamates) are not affected by the glitches because they are anomalies, glitches detached from the world already. to killer, this means enlightenment and freedom. he doesn't understand dust's attachment to the underground, his dogmatic beliefs about justice and the greater good for the monsters. doesn't dust want to ascend to be something "real", rather than the npcs that the rest of the monsters are? doesn't he want to escape from the control of the player? why would he want to obey to the whims of a dying, boring, constricting world anyway? if dust can't see it, then killer will make him see.

the thing is, dust is a difficult monster to persuade. sure, killer can kill him again and again (chances are 50/50 on who will win anyway). but dust always bounces back, more vindicated in his retaliation and belief that killer needs to be gone. the thing is, when you want to break someone down, you need to be the thing they fear the most. killer is already that, isn't he? he's a future of a sans, of dust's own past. this is what dust could have become. killer is what dust has become - a sans doing the work of the no-mercy player.

"aren't you bored of doing the same thing over and over again? aren't you crazy from repeating all these useless cycles only to reach the same conclusion again and again?... oh wait, you already are!"

and dust - what can he say to all that? is it true? is it not? who cares - the only satisfaction he can have is wiping that smirk off that face. killer knows intimately beings like dust - not only because they were the same person at some point, but also because dust is a control freak with a savior complex as well as survivor's guilt. deep down inside, dust cannot fathom losing. he has poured too much, sacrificed too much, to get this far. and he won't stop - not until he reaches his happy ending, which will never come. so he'll forever be stuck down here, repeating his worst nightmares again and again in a hell of his own making.

the only variable in dust's life is killer. gradually, dust treats killing other monsters as a job - an important yet thankless job that someone has to do. the only kill in which he feels something is of his brother... and killer. with killer, dust is filled with something - maybe it's joy, maybe it's hate, it's hard to tell when apathy is his usual state.

and the thing is, the opposite of love isn't hate. it's the lack of love - it's apathy. he feels something for killer - an attachment, an obsession, a possessiveness. "only i get to kill him", "he's my kill", that's what dust thinks. he rationalizes that thinking of course - killer reminds of him too much of himself, the person he hates the most. but there's that fear every time he kills killer - fear that killer will never come back, leaving dust with his empty broken world and voices in his head. and he fears killer will know it, somehow.

for killer, it's always a game to see who's the winner and who's the loser. it's a struggle for control, with the controller and the controlled. and with the player gone, dust should belong to him now. an eternal playmate, after everyone else has disappeared from his life. and like, it's totally therapeutic to beat up and mess with the guy who reminds you of yourself, right? totally not a self-esteem issue waiting to be explored or anything at all. it's funny how much they match. "look, we both wear red!" exclaims killer as he points to his own red soul and dust's red iris. determination pulls them together, and determination will break one of them in the end, and it's not going to be him. he'll persevere once this world rots away, while dust will be trapped by his own volition.

maybe, just maybe, he'll whisk dust away once the end comes. and they'll find another playground to re-enact their play again. killer will take and take and take, until all they are is dust.

Oh, I will ruin you It's a habit - I can't help it

I will only break your pretty things I will only wring you dry of everything And if you're fine with that If you're fine with that

[chiptrillino]

Wip Ask Game!

i was tagged by: @erisenyo, @ranilla-bean and @sulkybender (-internal screeming-)

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I was beginning to overthink this whole thing and well... so : my files don't have names because its like... always a few doodles in one dokument similar like a scetchbook. uhm... just drop a number if you like?

(the withed out ones are just double safe of the same file because my pc crashed. and the blue one is just the whole zuko aang sokka one i already have posted ) tagging @blu3berrydraws, @adriancatrin, @paramouradrift, @fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma, @lizardlicks and anyone else who wants to play! But honestly no obligation to do it only if you like!

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[warning-heckboop]

We're not so different, you and I

Judged by the inexplicable magics at our cores

Or by how we strayed from the paths laid out for us

To live our own lives, and tell our own tales

I can only hope now that yours

Leads to a happier end than mine

((Wolf belongs to @bunnieswithknives))

[sirfluffyknight]

Hi tumblr

I guess I'm a furry artist now

[ttaibhse]

my goal was 4k in 30 min really really didnt think i was going to make it 🥹🥹🥹

[moonchild-in-blue]

Oh.

[todayisafridaynight]

i’m pretty surprised that you can be in a fandom without really checking the tags regularly for new content or discussions that’s pretty impressive

ive got twitter for that and twitter has shown me enough as is

[e77y]

The visceral and hungering loneliness is back. You know what that means! Bedtime

[fox-guardian]

hm. maybe i Should go ahead and get an ao3 account

[perereiii]

[STILL BETA REDESIGNING!!!] may or may not be redesigning the rainbow to make them more individualistic design wise (and also less cluttered)