#purple kiss screencaps

[stardust-screencaps]

nerdy by purple kiss

[lothcatthree]

Hello! Hi!! Saw you're doing prompts!

How about 25 or 26 for codywan?? (I can't decide because both scenarios could be absolutely delicious with them lol)

26. a kiss where one or both parties are crying

send me an ask for a lil kiss with your pairing of choice <3

hi beloved!!!!! thank you so much, this one was so fun. i landed on the crying one and thought for a good while as to who should cry, but landed on both of them in a roundabout way because they're both giant fucking nerds.

have a "nothing bad happens, everyone is happy" post-war GFFA codywan. again, it got too long. SFW but most of it under the cut :)

-

Cody opens the door to his apartment on Coruscant just as he does any other day. It gives way after he pads the code into the panel, the small rush of air slightly blowing back his hair that’s grown a smidge too long ever since the war.

“Hey,” he calls from the entryway and bends over to pet the tooka that makes a valiant attempt to trip him. He toes off his own boots next to the pair that sit dutifully on the floor and groans as he unbuttons the shirt of his dress grays, “You wouldn’t fucking believe the banthashit that Amedda pulled today.”

There’s a hum from around the corner and Cody enters the main room to see the back of mussed red hair that’s also grown just a bit too long ever since the war. Obi-Wan sits on the couch, engrossed in some holomovie and dressed in the pajamas Cody left him in this morning.

“So,” Cody starts and tosses his outer shirt somewhere in the room. He rolls his shoulders underneath the freedom of his black t-shirt and winces when his neck pinches. Damn pillows. “You know how Fox had to deal with that little insurgent issue a while back? The Rodian with the,” Cody gestures vaguely to his own face even though Obi-Wan isn’t looking at him, “The thing on his eye.”

Another affirmative hum, but no response. Cody slides a confused glance over to the couch because usually Obi-Wan loves to talk shit with him. Must be some show that Obi-Wan is watching.

“Anyway,” Cody runs a hand through his hair and sets his bag on the kitchen table, “The bastard came back. Marched straight to the CG offices and demanded a trial even though he’s already been declared guilty in the first place. We’ve got kriffing video of him. So Fox told him to fuck off, naturally, but then–get this.”

He pauses, but doesn’t get a response. Cody stares at the back of Obi-Wan’s head as if it’s engaging in the conversation with him. 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody prompts with his hands frozen mid-gesture. 

In an instant, Obi-Wan goes from unsettlingly still, the kind of still that only Jedi can be, to a flurry of movement. 

With great feeling, Obi-Wan tosses his head back and groans. He slams a finger on the datapad to pause the video right before he whips his head around and demands, “What? I’m watching a movie, Cody.”

Cody’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he points an accusatory finger at Obi-Wan, “Woah there, hotshot. What the hell’s gotten into–Wait, are you crying?”

Silence falls between them and two watery blue eyes blink at him. A pale hand slaps over Obi-Wan’s face as if trying to kill an insect rather than wipe away evidence. Obi-Wan lowers his hand calmly, sets his jaw, and has the audacity to respond in a thick, congested voice, “No.”

Cody stares at him. Obi-Wan stares right back.

“Uh huh,” Cody says slowly.

“Allergies,” Obi-Wan quips. He even sniffs.

A grin begins to slide onto Cody’s face and he slowly crosses the room. It doesn’t take more than a few strides to make it to the end of the couch. Obi-Wan stares up at him defiantly, his arms crossed over his chest and the datapad still open from where it rests on top of his folded legs. 

Cody quickly picks it up and deftly ignores Obi-Wan’s attempt to snatch it back.

“Love at First Jogan?” Cody reads the Aurubesh words that consist of the pause screen, hovering over a screencap of a Twi’lek and a human male making eyes at each other over a table filled with purple fruits.

“It’s for research,” Obi-Wan protests and then successfully swipes the datapad out of Cody’s hands. Cody lets him take it, he’s already gotten the ammo he needs. 

“Research, eh?” Cody repeats, his words curled by the shit-eating grin that’s appeared on his face. He kneels on the cushion and leans down to tilt Obi-Wan’s chin upwards, his next words a hot breath between their mouths. “Is it normal for research to make you cry?” Cody uses his free hand to swipe a stray tear from the corner of Obi-Wan’s eye. 

“I’m very passionate about Jogan fruits,” Obi-Wan whispers, stubborn to the absolute very end. Cody adores him. 

Blue eyes watch him steadily and Cody can’t help his small chuckle as he responds, “Sure, sweetheart.” 

Cody closes the last few inches between them and captures those warm, soft, slightly damp (Force, Obi-Wan was crying for a while) lips between his own. Obi-Wan hums contently and places his hands on Cody’s shoulders, holding him there. As if Cody were going anywhere else.

They break apart and Cody places another kiss on the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth for good measure. He nudges Obi-Wan’s thigh with his knee on the cushion and says, “Scoot over. Let me see what this is all about then.”

Obi-Wan’s responding smile has Cody falling in love all over again. He diligently scoots over and gives Cody no more than half a second to settle into the couch before he’s pressing their thighs together and resting his head on Cody’s shoulder. 

Obi-Wan unclicks the datapad and balances it on both of their legs as he recites, “So. There’s this character named Alther–we hate him. Right now, he’s somehow wooed Tanea–we like her–into…”

Cody listens, then watches, and discovers at the end of it that he’s quite passionate about Jogan fruits, too. 

And maybe Obi-Wan.

Definitely Obi-Wan.

[irenadel]

And if the devil... 5/10

Making a banner for this finally for the grand finale coming soon. Excuse to rb. Credit for the Aemond screencap goes to the wonderful Liv @barbieaemond Smut: The Chapter, Aemond x Maid!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

It isn’t the failing light of twilight that drives you both out of the sky, but a drizzle that turns into a storm. Vhagar herself does not care and leaves you both stranded inside a damp seaside cave, just so she can go hunting, with Aemond shouting after her in mock outrage, while you laugh so wildly and girlishly he thinks he’d rather stay here forever if you’ll just keep laughing like that.

You are better than him at gathering what little dry driftwood is to be found and he is better at setting it aflame. Neither of you are any good at fishing with bare hands so you content yourselves with drinking rain and trying to wring the water out of your clothes.

He turns his back to you the moment you pull off your drab servant’s dress and start undoing the ties of your shift. His heart is hammering in his ears and he feels the traitorous flushing return to his face and throat.

If you don’t want to shame yourself, his brother had warned him, not knowing that was all he was now, shame and longing.

You reach for the rapidly warming skin of his neck, through the soaked, beautiful strands of his silver hair, to turn him back to you.

It is his undoing.

The fear in your own face, clammy and white, cheeks starkly red. The way his hands move on their own, to the laces of your shift, taking over your clumsy, cold fingers. He has seen your naked calves before, dreamt of them locked around his waist as he plunged into you, thrown over his shoulders as he kisses the flushed red tips of your toes. He is unprepared for the gut-wrenching, dizzying strength of his arousal at the sight of your bare arms, the ribs he could count, your pert, pink nipples, the angry red scar below your collarbone and the bright purple bruises on your stomach that your nakedness can no longer hide from his hungry, avid eye. He will kill your uncle, string him from his feet and make a present of his useless hand to you. Later. Tonight, he is tearing your underskirts off, unheeding of the ripping sound some of them make, prick hard and ready because you help him, your hands are shaking, your own breath shivering, but still you offer up your long, powerful legs to him. You are white as a ghost all over, as a fresh sheet of vellum, and by all the gods he intends to leave his own mark on you.

He undoes your braid, as he has dreamt of doing incessantly for the past months, wishing to inhale the scent of your wet hair, bring it to his lips and kiss it at long last. Aemond can only hope he could offer you such a tenderness, but all he knows is the cruelty of his urgency for you.

He wraps your hair around his hand, panting madly, almost smiling, once, twice, enough to pull your head back so you will look at him. Enough to wrench a broken sound of pleasure from your throat, a sound that travels directly to the root of his cock.

“What did you say to Vhagar in Dothraki?”

“Davra nayat… good girl”

He doesn’t laugh now, not at the sheer nerve of you speaking to a dragon as if she were a nervous filly. Sees you again, on a saddle at the zenith of the world, face reaching for the wind, as he urged Vhagar higher and higher, to please a stupid, beautiful girl, born of nothing, who owned nothing… except the horizon… except himself.

He rips the ties of his doublet open, grabs your hand, grip so painful he fears he will crush your fingers in his, and places your palm on his heaving chest, his wildly beating heart. Sees you hiss in a breath and presses his face to the naked expanse of your exposed throat.

“Davrat nayat,” he says to you as he shows you how to undo his clothes.

When Aegon’s whore had undressed him, her hands had been soft as silk, her perfume so heady and potent his eye had watered because of it. When she stole kiss after kiss from his lips he had tasted the mint leaves she’d chewed before bedding him. She had called him beautiful and praised the whiteness of his Valyrian skin.

I’ve never been a prince’s first fuck, your grace.

He’d been too dazed to correct her address to him.

Your hands shake as you undo the clasps of his doublet and you curse when one of them resists you. There’s a red ammonia burn on one of your palms, right below your thumb, kitchen scrubbing no doubt. You chew on your lower lip as you peel each layer off him, toss his white linen shirt to one side. Your fingers find the slender, muscled expanse of his waist, brush his own pink nipples, unexpectedly sensitive and ready for touch. And Aemond finds the furious, shivering eagerness of your calloused hands on his chest and neck a hundred times more convincing than the whore’s honeyed words.

When you get to his breeches he pulls your chin up so you can face him. He knows he needs to look at you when you touch him, when you find the hard, eager evidence of how low you’ve brought him.

Your eyes close, brows together as if in pain, when your fingers wrap around his cock and he feels adrift suddenly, by how you fall into his body, into his need, his hips wonderfully, deliriously ready to chase your hand pulling at him.

He grips your chin hard enough to keep his own hand from shaking, bares his teeth in a snarl to keep a strangled moan in and whispers into your ear, as he steps out of his breeches.

“You don’t fight me anymore.”

You don’t answer immediately, and for a few minutes it’s just your panting breath and the slapping, wet sound of Aemond coming apart in your hand, one pull of his cock at the time.

He feels like he is going to lose his fucking mind.

“I decided to stop fighting myself.”

He does not know how to manage for himself. When you tear another kiss from his lips and go on all fours, he does not know how not to strangle one more hungry growl from his throat. When he catches the sight of your pale, pink cunt soaked and ready for him, he does not know how to stop himself from grabbing for your hips, leaving bruises of his own, or how to stop from warring within his breast the twin desires of fucking you like this, with your cunt on display for him or flipping you around so he can watch your face as you fall apart on his cock.

And it strikes him deliciously and unexpectedly that he need not decide, as he flips you on your back, drunk on the resistance of your kicking legs and the capitulation of your arms around him. He can do this as much as he wants for the rest of his life, in as many positions as he can think of.

He near sobs when he finally pushes inside you. No resistance in his way, just the warm, wet, grasping embrace of your cunt around him, clenching, milking him and he can’t stop. His face buried in your neck, your mouth kissing his temples, your breasts pressed against his chest. There’s so many things he wants to do to you. But he can’t stop pushing inside you, grinding into you, snapping his hips against yours. He can’t talk, can do nothing but clench his teeth against the mess of words and sounds that threatens to consume him. 

It’s why he hears you, through the slap of skin against skin.

“My prince.”

He’s dreamed of it so often. Desired it so much. Craved it so ardently… that he can’t help but come at your strangled words. The noise he makes against your neck is shameful. He would have torn himself from your arms if his body hadn’t still been burning. He would have cursed himself for a fool if he still had breath in his lungs. But you are not deceived by his stillness.

“Aemond, are you—“

And he turns from you so quickly you are left more than confused, as dazed and humiliated as he. Both of you, naked in the chill of the evening while Aemond tries very hard not to think of a woman comforting him, the smell of mint leaves, and his brother’s scornful laughter.

“Touch me and I’ll take your fucking hand off,” he snaps back at you, unable to remember why his name on your tongue should be so odious to him, unable to think clearly except that you know so much of him, you should have known better. You have tasted him so thoroughly that he cannot think how to face you after this. No one should know him so well but Vhagar.

You stand up, despite how suddenly cold you are, with your thighs smeared in royal seed, a horribly familiar dread in your stomach as you are once more confronted with a prince who will not to look at you. You had not thought it could have been worse than humiliation, but shame and heartbreak together are too much of a burden to bear. You almost give in again, dismissed again. You almost leave and Aemond almost lets you.

And you will never know who turned around first, but you know your mouth is on his again, kiss so cruel and hungry your teeth draw blood from his dry lips. You know he fights you for control for a moment before you have him on the floor, powerful legs straddling his waist, your dull nails scraping against his nipples so that he chokes back a whine and you bite it off his lips with an angry sound of your own.

“That belongs to me,” you say, as this time, you pinch one of the tender buds on his chest, looking directly into his face, into amethyst and sapphire, before you make him cry out again. “I will not be robbed, little khal.”

He should have chastised you for your presumption, for your nails digging into his chest and your teeth closing around the sharp edges of his jaw. And he would. In time.

It isn’t over until it’s over, Ser Criston had said to him, when he was tired of Aegon’s taller frame and stronger reach giving him the advantage. It isn’t over until you decide it’s over.

And Aemond had decided, ages ago it seemed, that this would never be over. 

His hand in your hand and you guiding him between your legs, until he remembers all the things he knows how to make your body do. That you do them on top of him, your hips swaying over his hand, only makes it sweeter.

He gives you the moan that belongs to you the moment his fingers find their way inside you, ripping a hungry noise from your own lips. One, two, three digits inside you until you can take no more and he is hard again, surprisingly, painfully hard. It is the sight of your beautiful, pale hair barely hiding your grimace of pleasure, your body moving of its own accord, fucking yourself on his hand, until he can take it no more, grabbing a handful of yellow hair and hissing recklessly, thoughtlessly against your bruised lips, “Ride my hand, come on my fingers. I’ll get you a dragon to ride if you do this well.”

He does not know where these promises come from. All he knows is the way your insides clench on his fingers, the way you throw your head back and he can feel you coming all over his palm, as his thumb abuses your hard, eager pearl. He can feel his cock twitch both at the thought of being inside you again and you, pale hair in the wind driving him to distraction, on dragonback.

But it is when you grab ahold of his face, looking straight into his soul, ruby-red eyes still half-lidded from your peak, that he cannot hold back any longer. Because you say it through a half-choked moan and he will make you say it again and again, as many times as he wants, in any position that he so desires, “I’ve got a dragon to ride already, my prince.”

He’s inside you again in seconds, giving you no quarter or preamble, your sex over-sensitive from your recent climax, but Aemond One-Eye is as cruel as any kitchen gossip ever named him to be. He is inside you, bigger than his slender fingers, deeper than any man had any right to be, reaching places you had never even dreamed existed, whispering delicious filth in your ear. Every wonderful, shameful thing you had ever desired from the men who had used you and so easily discarded you.

But not him. Not your prince.

“You are mine,” he says to you, too sharp and too guttural to be entirely Westerosi, with the taste of Old Valyria still on his tongue, drunk on his own blood and the one he takes by nipping at your greedy, eager lips. “To fuck you and use you as I want. Mine and no one else’s, issa jorrāelagon. My sweet, stupid girl. I’ll be the death of you. Come for me, come for your prince.”

And you do. Chasing pleasure, fucking yourself on this beautiful, idiot man’s cock. Knowing he is right about everything and you are lost to him, to the taste of his tongue and his anger and his scorn. And he is coming after you, in wonderful, warm spurts inside you, still hard as you chase your peak, long and drawn, seeming to last forever, with Aemond’s hands tangled in your hair again, urging you on with a rhythmic yes, yes, yes, still hard, still hungry for you.

Still willing after that second peak of his, to put you on your hands and knees, hair undone and more beautiful and perfect than any man you have ever seen before. Eye wild, sapphire glinting in the light of the dying fire, mouth curling in his cruel, hunting-cat smile, that you will never again be able to live without. All of it as he brings your sweet, pink cunt to his lips, dizzy from the smell of your combined lovemaking, dizzy from the knowledge of how that marks you as his and only his. And Aemond, Prince Aemond of the House Targaryen cannot know what it is to you when he runs the first, long, languorous lick against your cunt, smirking at your ragged moan of pleasure. He cannot know that every time you have been on your hands and knees for a man you had known it to be no more than a sham. A sordid, sorry fraud of a union. As if your body had known from the start that no cock and no hands and no tongue could ever serve but Prince Aemond’s. As if you had been waiting all your small, dreary life for his mouth against your cunt, ruthlessly tearing more pleasure out of your exhausted body.

He fucks you like this. The Dothraki way. Remaking the world for you with his claim on this position. Near laughing through the delicious, lingering burn at the pit of his stomach. His thighs straining and tingling because he’s come twice and is looking for a third and the sound of his legs slapping against your arse could've been enough to make him lose it. Except he knows now. That he gets to watch his cock pull in and out of you forever. Any time he wants. Gets to feel you arching against him, deliciously wanton, as desperate for his flesh as he was for yours, as many times as he so desires. And it is perfect, as he pulls your hair, one more time, one last time to prove he can, to drag you back up against him and lick a hot, wet brand up the skin of your neck, until he can whisper in your ear.

“Davrat nayat.”

And when he feels the merciless clench of your cunt he shouts against your fragrant hair, panting, kissing it, as Vhagar lights the night sky, somewhere over the sea, in a torrent of joyous flame.

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Holy fandom this shit is big.

Okay, so I've been exploring the Simon Snow fandom this evening, and now my head is exploding.

I feel kind of old. Or maybe just late. Or both. I mean, the last time I was active in any fandom was...a very long time ago. Things were smaller. Way smaller. We had forums, and email lists. (I hate how I'm likely dating myself, but I was very young and now I'm no longer so young. It happens to most people.) Anyway, you could be a part of a fandom and actually get to know just about everyone in it. Maybe this also had something to do with my choices of fandom, but it was also before the big explosion of social media that brought everybody else to the internet, clogging it all up. (I'm not bitter.)

So now, I'm adult-aged (I hate saying that though, it feels like there are expectations). And I just read this amazing trilogy of books, and I think to myself, "You know what? This is worth it. This is worth diving back in, because I bet this fandom is awesome."

This fandom is awesome. And big. Like. You all have wikis to keep track of things, but this stuff has exploded so quickly those wikis aren't even updated (no shame to the wiki-makers, at all cause as I'm saying, this shit is big). The AO3 count is off the charts. You have discord servers and about a million Tumblr pages, and screencapped memes that have become... What do you call it when it's fan-created and not canon, but it's so well known it's like canon? Whatever it is, there's a ton of it. (Everywhere I look, Penelope has purple hair.)

I have to say, I am simultaneously thrilled with this and intimidated as hell. Every time I think I have something new to say, I find someone else has already said it. This makes me a little nervous about saying anything because this thing is so big I can't possibly know for sure I'm not repeating something that's practically old hat to the rest of the fandom. Like, "Yeah, sure, we see your point, but we saw that point in 2019, here's a link to the original post."

*deep breath*

I will never catch up on fanfic. Not ever. (I'm going to try, and I'm kissing my goodreads yearly read goal goodbye to do it, but still.)

Curse me and my policy of waiting until all the books are out before reading them...

I've never seen anything like this fandom. I've never tried to throw myself into anything like this fandom. If you're at all concerned, I am absolutely still throwing myself into this fandom, and I'm going to write fanfic (slowly), and draw (eventually), and I will quite willingly wear the big HI I'M NEW HERE WHERE IS REGISTRATION? sticker on my forehead. Because, I mean, it's Snowbaz. What wouldn't I do for them?

I just thought you should know. This is big. And I love it. But seriously, freaking huge. (Yeah, I can hear myself. "That's what she said." There you go. XD)

*ahem* Carry on.

(Edit to add: I've continued my dive since writing this and I literally am sitting at my desk, clicking, saying, "Oh my God, you guys are amazing." Just... over and over. And over. So many clicks. So much amazing. This fandom is dedicated and I love it so damned much.)

[unlockthestars]

Learn about my muses' physical features! // Accepting

@flightofaqrow asked: [mouth] for Val; [skin] for Robyn; [chest] for Glynda bc qrow would like to know and is possibly about to find out; [eyes] for Aster, aaaand one freebie to talk about whatever for whichever muse that we should know.

This is gonna be long, so BUCKLE UP, BUTTERCUP.

[mouth]: are their lips always drawn thin or are they plump and kissable, what’s their “default expression”/resting face, do they have all their own teeth, do they use their teeth to smile, etc.

One of the great things about Val is, regardless of if they're presenting male or female or anywhere in between, a lot of their facial features remain the same, just a more masculine or feminine presentation.

They always have full lips, which is one of the things that does not change. And they take good care of them, too: lip scrubs are not an uncommon thing to find in their toiletry kit, along with balm and other products to make sure they're always properly taken care of and ready to be kissed at any moment.

When using Valentina and presenting more feminine, there is almost always purple lipstick on her lips, because she knows she looks good in it. They're well-versed in using only makeup to present more femme if they need to, as well.

The default expression on their face (usually when they know someone is watching them) is a mischievous smirk, like they're up to no good. But if they're unaware if anyone is watching them, their resting face is more thoughtful, as though considering the world around them and their place in it.

While they do have all their own teeth, they don't usually use them to smile; they got used to keeping their true feelings close to the chest very early on, so if you get a full, genuine smile from Val, you know you're doing something right.

[skin]: obviously colour, but also if they’re inclined to run hot or cold, do they have any blemishes or unusual markings, are they inclined to blush, are they freckled, do they tan, what does their skin feel like, etc.

One of the first things someone might notice about Robyn are the two beauty marks she has on her face: under her right eye and on the left side of her chin. They're not large, but they definitely stand out.

While she doesn't run hot, Robyn is definitely a little warmer than average, which is great in the winter, but not so much in the summer. There's a reason she wears a layer that has absolutely no sleeves, after all.

She takes care of her skin as much as she has the time to do; usually that only amounts to washing and moisturizing, but when she has more time, she'll do a full skincare routine. This is partly because she spends a lot of time outside, sometimes in the elements, and it's important to take care of yourself. Which means that her skin is very soft, underneath all those layers.

While her skin is not exactly pale, it is obvious when she flushes because it's not that common.

She has a scar on her stomach from a time she was stabbed in an attempted mugging that didn't heal as well as it could have.

[chest]: (potentially nsfw) what size are their breasts if they have them, nipple colour and shape and size, do they have visible muscle definition/abs, etc.

I am not putting this part under a readmore because breasts are not inherently sexual, damn it, and I have some asks about man-boobs in my inbox and I'm not putting them under a readmore either.

I legitimately attempted to do math for this, and after research and looking at many many screencaps of Glynda, she is a 34E, which makes shopping fun. There's a reason she has a specific style and sticks to it.

As for shape, her breasts are pretty even, with the right one a touch bigger than the other, but that's mostly only noticeable if you're really studying them or handling them. She only really notices when she's looking in a mirror; it doesn't make much of a difference for clothes, thankfully.

Her nipples are pretty small, with slightly bigger areola, and both nipples and areola are a very light blush pink.

Her abs are toned and there's just a hint of muscle definition. She keeps herself in good, fighting shape.

[eyes]: not just the colour, but the shape, the length of their eyelashes, whether they’re alert or usually half-closed, large or small, sunken into the face, ringed by bags, etc.

The picrews that I used to generate Aster didn't have hazel as an option so I ended up going with brown most of the time, but his eyes change colour depending on the light and sometimes with his emotions. Sometimes they're more brown, absolutely, but there are times they appear almost green. Most of the time, they're a mix of brown and green, with gold flecks if they catch the light just right.

His eyes are actually shaped almost like a leopard's, almost round, very open and wide. His eyelashes aren't overly long, but they definitely take mascara well, if/when he wears it. They also do shine at night if you turn a light on him, like a leopard's would.

For the most part, he doesn't appear to have bags under his eyes, but if he does, he's very good at concealing that fact.

He's usually pretty alert, with his eyes fairly open, looking around to see if he can do anything to help, regardless of where he is.

If eyes are windows into the soul, then Aster is an open book.

For the freebie, we're going back to Val/entina!

[groin]: (potentially nsfw) any information pertaining to genitals - length, girth, shape, colour, “unusual features”, also includes the rear and its general appearance, etc.

OKAY, so. When using "Val" and presenting as more traditionally 'masculine,' they have a penis and scrotum. Length is between 7 and 8 inches, since they were able to choose, and matches their regular skin tone. Girth is fairly average, head isn't too bulbous. Overall, a very nice-looking package.

When using "Valentina" and presenting as more traditionally feminine, they have vulva, vagina, and clitoris. Because they were able to design it, they were able to ensure that it is uniform, with the colour a bit pinker than their regular skintone.

Regardless of presentation, they keep any hair fairly well trimmed, though there is definitely a happy trail when presenting more masculine physically.

And they've got a rockin' booty, no matter what, with firm, round cheeks that look good in whatever they choose to wear.

[krokodilsredimudil]

Welcome traveler. May I interest you in some shitposts?

This is a welcome post for anyone who wanders in here. I'm Daria / Manticorushka ( tiny Manticore).

I interact from @karabas-zhirobas.

@cyberbabka side blog for film aesthetic/screencaps

I post about my current obsessions: Stranger Things, Fringe, the X-files, classic horrors, movies from the 70s-80s-90s.

I watch and screencap A LOT of movies.

Once in a while I make magazine collages.

Featured posts (Stranger things, Gotham, collages) below:

Stranger things posts: - #thirddufferbrothering (movie/TV show parallels)

Stranger things and the Twilight Zone(1959)

Stranger things - The Pumaman (1980)

Stranger things - Halloween III: Season of the witch (1982)

Stranger things - The Poltergeist trilogy (1982, 1986, 1988)

Stranger things - The Philadelphia experiment (1984)

Stranger things - Total Recall (1990)

Stranger things - Goodfellas (1990)

Stranger things - The good son (1993)

Stranger things - 12 monkeys (1995)

Stranger things - Twister (1996)

Stranger things - Mimic (1997)

Stranger things - Event Horizon (1997)

Stranger things - Fallen (1998)

Stranger things -Magnolia (1999)

Stranger things - Ravenous (1999)

Stranger things - Never been kissed (1999)

Stranger things - Unbreakable (2000) parallels

Stranger things - The Cell (2000)

Stranger things - Donnie Darko (2001) (part 1 cinematography, scenes)

Stranger things - Donnie Darko (2001) (part 2 plot)

Stranger things - Minority Report (2002)

Stranger things - Spider (2002)

Stranger things - Dreamcatcher (2003)

Stranger things - Unleashed / Danny the Dog (2005)

Stranger things - Fringe (2008-2013)

Stranger things - Unborn (2009)

Stranger things - Scooby Doo Mystery Incorporated (2010-2013)

Stranger things - the Cabin in the Woods (2011)

Stranger things - Source code (2011)

Stranger things - Stoker (2013)

Stranger things - the Guest (2014)

Stranger things - Hidden (2015) by the Duffer Brothers

Stranger things - Fast Color (2018)

*bolded posts are heavily referenced movies/important

- Other:

orgoatpassantsable (byler won't write itself) is not a ST writer + proof

Will Byers / the Duffer Brothers in their childhood

What to watch while waiting for s5: the Duffers' other films

Gotham posts (#gotham posting):

- Movie/art parallels:

Edward Nygma is a character inspired by Alfred Hitchcock's movies

Isabella is the plot of Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo

Ed killing Kristen - Ivan the Terrible and his son Ivan

Gotham - the Godfather parallels

Gotham - 28 days later parallels

Gotham - Judge Dredd parallels

- Flower analysis series:

Carmine Falcone and asters

Ed Nygma, Kristen and lisianthus

Gertrud Kapelput and lilies

Gertrud/Elijah and white lilies

Oswald Cobblepot and purple tulips

Isabella/Ed, Oswald/Ed and dried roses

- Nygmobblepot parallels and analysis:

Nygmobblepot - Ed/Kristen (flirting)

Nygmobblepot - Ed/Kristen + Falcone/Liza

Nygmobblepot - Ed/Kristen (scenes in Ed's apartment)

Nygmobblepot - Butch/Fish

Oswald, Ed, Oswald's mother and the concept of love: is it really their greatest weakness?

Edward Nygma: Gertrud’s substitute, Butch’s rival and Oswald’s lover (s3 ep5)

Oswald/Edward: courage (s3 ep6 | s5 ep11)

Nygmobblepot - Butch/Tabitha + Barbara

- Other:

Iconic script lines

Isabella's apartment analysis

Who is Isabella? A tale of Hugo Strange’s creations: Bruce’s clone and Isabella parallels

Other shows and movies:

Fringe easter eggs

Fringe - the X files (the Dreamland) parallels

Retro-futuristic magazine collages:

Brainworm

Per aspera ad astra

The Surfer's Guide to the Galaxy

Real estate up-to-date

Head over lips

Survival is a must / Is it Bali yet?

On the outskirts of reality

Retro-futuristic magazine Classic Doctor Who-related collages:

Under a gray moon in Machu Picchu (mondasian cybermen)

Togetherness (Dodo and Steven)

Rocking that village (Zarbi)

Can you give us a lift to Brighton, please? (Jamie, Zoe)

To the hard drive and back (The Fourth Doctor, Alpha Centauri)

Generation gap (The First Doctor, Yeti)

Once in Time and Space (Tardis)

Adventures of the Doctor (The Fourth Doctor, Romana)

Other edits:

Third/Delgado!Master edit

River/Doctor, Missy/Master edit

Missy/Master + Missy/Master [2]

the Twelfth Doctor collage

The Unicorn and the Wasp

the Tenth Doctor

Dream team s10

Bill + Twelve adventures

Whatever this is

Twelve as Hypnos

Forgotten Dr Who enemies

Dirk Gently Pararibulitis edit

Dirk Gently Bart edit

The Thirteenth Doctor edit

Thirteen + classic enemies

Thirteen edit

Tower of God Shibisu valentine cards

[shroom-caps]

eyes in memeM (purple kiss) dir. zanybros

[liltouch-moved]

who’s doing it like them?

[disneyfemslash]

[Image Description: Two 3-by-3 moodboards of Violet Par and Penny Forrester. The are nearly identical, both are on a pink background. On the first moodboard, the first image is the words 'Our first kiss is something that I will never forget, the warmth of your lips on mine, forever; in black on a peach background. The second image is the words 'Best friends are the ones who don't judge you for your mistakes, but help you learn from the,' in black on a lilac background. The third image is the words 'I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone' with a heart, on a sticky note. The fourth image is a screencap of Penny, smiling. The fifth iamge is a close up of two white people holding hands. The sixth image is a screencap of Violet, smiling. The seventh image is the words 'I promise to be with your forever' in pink on a white background. The eighth image is 'I chose to be your best friend, but falling in love with you was out of my control' in cream, on a brown background. The ninth image is the words 'When you kiss and it feels like... finally' in black on a pale pink background.

The second moodboard is identical, the moodboard has been blurred, and an overlay that makes the colors paler and brighter. Overlaid on the entire moodboard are a series of pink, white, and purple circles, with Violet in her super suit, posing with a shield in her hand. Penny is kneeling next to Violet, holding binoculars. End ID]

a moodboard of Penny (Bolt) x Violet (The Incredibles) with themes of friendship/friends to lovers, promises, hand holding, and first kiss and the colors pastel red and pastel purple

Requested by: anon

- Mod rapunzel

[thunderdomes-s]

퍼플키스 (PURPLE K!SS) - Can We Talk Again MV screencaps

Dosie (1)

[strange-wanderings]

Can’t Stop Dreamin’ - Ireh

Fill & Feel - Swan

Wh0 Cares? - Yuki

New Iconic - Na Goeun

Like A Star - Chaein

Fashion - Park Jieun

Mmuuaahh - Dosie

Purple kiss

[ariadne-mouse]

Cisco Ramon looking excellent in 6x04 ‘There Will Be Blood’.

[twomiddlefingersforthehaters]

[ID: A comic of a woman smiling at a man and saying "I like your pride shirt." The man's shirt has been edited to be a Naruto screencap of the accidental kiss between Naruto and Sasuke. End ID] added by @princess-of-purple-prose

[nimisao]

Electric Kiss (Chanyeol)

[rbelle310]

There's a cardigan in Hajime's closet. Mossy green with a row of five buttons that barely keep the front closed against his muscles and a cartoony print of furiously rawr'ing godzilla-like dinos. A less secure man would probably call it wussy, but Hajime loves that cardigan beyond words.

In no small part because he loves Godzilla, but also because Wakatoshi bought it for him after noticing him shivering in the gym more than once.

The team tries their damnedest to keep a straight face as Hajime spots them during bench presses. The dinosaur print and plush green knit looms over them as they struggle with the weights.

Hinata tells Kageyama he keeps having dreams about Mr Iwasaur who pushes him into the ground by his arms and keeps growling "You can do one more, Shoyo, OR I'LL EAT YOU"

Hajime is aware of this because word gets around in the locker room, but he continues to wear the cardigan anyway. It's comfortingly warm and Hinata's terror is hilarious.

Eventually, even the fans catch on. They often spot him before they even realise Ushijima is with him. After a while people just call him Dino Trainer.

Much like other sexy athletes (or in this case, athlete adjacent) individuals. He's garnered many fans who just like the way his arms make the dino prints ripple.

There are articles dedicated to his career and how he's more than just a cardigan, but the media persists in calling him Dino Trainer.

Hajime doesn't mind, not really.

Some local magazine interviews him when he's back in Miyagi. He explains that what he actually likes is Godzilla and the print kinda looks like Godzilla.

And also, someone special bought it for him.

Or so he says with a faint blush. He doesn't name names but everyone knows who he's talking about. They don't really flaunt it, but they've not exactly been private either. Anyone could guess by the way they're always seen together.

Many posts of that screencap flood social media with captions like:

"I wish someone would think of me like the way Dino Trainer thinks about Ushiwaka"

"The face of True Love."

"I need someone to wrap me in affection like Ushiwaka wraps Dino Trainer in that cardigan."

But of course, like any other article of clothing, eventually it endures too many washes and gets caught one too many times on one sharp corner or another. The threads fray and the vibrant green fades.

Hajime can't really wear it out anymore, but so he keeps it at home. Sometimes he wears it when he and Wakatoshi hang out on the couch.

One day, he comes home after running some errands.

Wakatoshi's nowhere to be seen. The laundry's still hanging on the balcony so he brings that in, folding some and straightening others and when he opens the closet, he sees it: A brand new cardigan, all green and rawr-faced dinos.

There are not enough vowels in the Japanese language, or English for that matter, to describe the sound he makes when he sees it.

I mean I could try...

But we don't need to because when he takes the garment off the hanger, he's stunned to silence by the heavy tag that slips out from the buttoned front.

It's not a brand label or a product care card. It's a little sheet of cardboard with a ring hanging from a string.

"Will you marry me?" Wakatoshi asks, because Hajime can't even read the words with the tears blurring his vision.

Toshi's strong arms wrap around him, and some vague part of Hajime realises that Wakatoshi is also wearing a dino cardigan, but in purple.

"I love you." Hajime blurts out, turning around so he can face his lover.

The cardigan is smooshed between Wakatoshi's broad chest and his trembling hands as they kiss.

And kiss they do, in a liplock so passionate that he can barely get the "yes" out, so he says it over and over till he's breathless from kisses and affirmations.

Hajime doesn't even get a chance to try on his new cardigan, but that's alright because he's busy peeling Wakatoshi's off.

A long time later, they're nestled in bed, naked except for that shiny new engagement ring wrapped around Hajime's finger.

The cardigans are hanging over the headrest. He wants to wear it, but he also doesn't want to get it dirty.

"Where were you just now?" he asks, tracing circles around on his also shiny new fiancé's skin.

"I was hiding."

"In the bathroom?"

"No, Tendou said that's where you'd look first. I was hiding behind the bed."

Iwaizumi leans over Wakatoshi's shoulder. The bed isn't that tall, certainly not enough to hide a massive 6'3" athlete if he only crouched.

He laughs a bit at the thought though, and the conclusion he comes to.

"How long were you lying there?"

"About an hour."

"Did you fall asleep?" Iwaizumi grins teasingly.

"No." replies Wakatoshi without a hint offense, only earnestness, "I was too nervous."

Nervous. Japan's cannon who faced down the gods of volleyball at the net, and met every challenge head-on was nervous when it came to Iwaizumi Hajime.

Hajime wonders if Wakatoshi actually knows how much that confession means to him. More than the ring, more than a hundred dino cardigans in every retail colour.

He climbs back onto Wakatoshi's lap and kisses him again, sweetly this time: a soft press of lips and a tender touch on his sweaty brow.

"I love you, Toshi."

"I love you too, Haji."

The next day, there's a new article trending: Cardigans Flying Off The Shelves, but Dino Trainer Is Off The Market

[mashimero]

Art for the Obikin Big Bang 2021! The fic this is based on is “Across the Stars” by @unfortunate17! It’s an absolutely gorgeously written, timey wimey fic! Check out the fic in the link below, and check under the cut for an image description!

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ObikinBigBang2K21/works/35060092

Image description: a panelled collage of Anakin and Obi-Wan in six different scenes

1. On top, a screencap redraw of the scene from The Phantom Menace where Padmé speaks with Anakin on the ship back to Coruscant and gives him a blanket. In this version of the scene, Obi-Wan is laying his robe on a sleeping Anakin.

2. On right, a young teenaged Padawan Obi-Wan stands in front of the entrance to Dex’s diner. He’s gesturing for Anakin to follow him. An older teenaged Padawan Anakin can be seen from behind, in a Jedi cloak.

3. Bottom right panel. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin are Padawans in their late teens. They are seen lying on a concrete surface from above, and chatting happily. Neon lights bathe them in shades of purple and pink.

4. Bottom left panel. AOTC-era Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin is seen in a bed in the Halls of Healing. He’s shirtless and is flexing a basic model prosthetic arm. Obi-Wan sits at the side of his bed, chin in his hands, and looking tired and worn out

5. Right panel. Interior of a spaceship cockpit. The pilot’s seat is seen from behind. Obi-Wan is older, with grey streaks in his hair. A knighted Anakin is in his lap, naked, and they are kissing,

6. Middle panel. A knighted Anakin and an older teen Padawan Obi-Wan are seen in profile, sharing a bed from a top down view. They have their foreheads close together, and contented expressions on their faces.