#there shall be a tag system here

[photocheer]

Intro

I,@emily-mooon, am back at it again with another sideblog!

After making one for another rarepair I love, I thought I’d do the same with photocheer!

This will mostly just be a blog for reblogging any photocheer stuff I find. It’ll be like an archive for this pairing so none of the posts get lost in this hellsite’s terrible search system

There might also be original posts here, but I have a feeling all my stuff for photocheer will be posted on my main, which I’ll then immediately reblog here

At some point in the future, it might be nice trying to host a ship week or weekend for them if there’s a enough people interested. If not, then that’s okay! I’ll do my best to reblog any ST or fandom wide rarepair events that are happening so if any of you are interested in writing a fic or drawing fan art for them for an event, there’s one you can go to!

Same important rules as on my main. I don’t condone any bigoted behaviour! All of my blogs are safe spaces. Always try to be kind to people no matter who they are <3

Extras

Here’s the Spotify playlist I made for them. Feel free to suggest any songs for it if you have any!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Whoever’s reading this, I hope you are doing well and if not, here’s a free hug!-> 🫂

[catboygirljoker]

having a lot of fun playing disco elysium! really enjoying it! however, coming to 3 mortifying realizations:

my brain works like the disco elysium skill system

it's not a tetris effect thing. my brain has always worked like the disco elysium skill system

i now have to explain the disco elysium skill system to my therapist

[just-a-silly-lil-thing]

Do people like- post intros or like lil about me sections? Is that a thing? Should I do that?

[eastprelude]

hi friends its cam from twitter

[mirrortouchedsea]

Glad to see people already finding this blog from my main

[myzontoxin]

hip hip hurray new blog! 3rd times the charm i guess!

[cllightning81]

Firsts [OP81]

Summary: As Oliver's sister, you'd pushed your life aside to follow him around the world and be his manager in a way that you'd never experienced any of your firsts. Oscar wants to change that

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Bearman!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Request HERE

Masterlist Oscar Piastri Masterlist Oliver Bearman Masterlist

Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

You’d followed Ollie around for most of his international single-seater career. Still, now that he was moving up into F1, it was a significant jump up for Ollie, who had a couple of races previously, and with you. It came with a lot more than what you were expecting. 

Now, walking with Ollie up the red carpet for the F175 event, you weren’t sure what to expect, and Ollie was even more scared of what would happen. With it being his debut season and the debut of this type of event, everything was unknown. 

Ollie politely responded to all the questions from the interviewers as you stood to the side, silently laughing at some of the questions. ‘Who do you think will swear the most?’ had to be your favourite question from the night. 

Walking into the building with Ollie, you could see his shoulders sag slightly now that there weren’t any fans or cameras around. You smiled at him 

“Hey, well done. One down, twenty-four more to go,” You joked, and he groaned, rubbing his face, and you laughed “Sorry, Olls. You know I can’t keep this nice facade up all night,” You chuckled, following him and his PR manager into the Haas changing room. 

“Hey Y/N” Esteban smiled over 

“Evening Esteban. Enjoying your night so far?” You asked, taking a sea,t to which he shook his head 

“I’ll enjoy it more once I’ve got a drink in my system”, He joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh 

“Ollie’s barely legal, and I think he’ll be having more than I will” You laughed as Ollie looked over his face, clearly confused. The young driver hadn’t been listening to what had been said. 

An hour later, you were sitting in the crowd, smiling at Charles as he passed, clearly already fed up with this event. You couldn’t help but scroll through social media to see what the fans picked up on. Jack Whitehall’s British humour does not connect to some fans, and while you had to agree that making comments in front of the drivers wasn’t the best plan of action, it was something that people would think about.

The two drivers left the table a little earlier than their performance to get changed into their race suits for their performance. Almost biting the skin of your fingers in nerves for your younger brother so focused on the stage you didn’t notice someone sitting down next to you 

“He’ll be okay. He drives racing cars for a living. I’m sure he will be okay on stage for around five minutes” You jumped at the voice, turning your head quickly to look at who was talking to you. Letting out a breath as you saw another driver “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was coming back from the bathroom, and you looked nervous. I thought I might be able to help” He looked calm despite almost being attacked for the fright he’d just given you. 

“Next time, I suggest announcing your presence,” You suggested, to which he nodded 

“I shall consider that” He smiled as you rested your hands on the table again. 

“From my knowledge, women don’t like being scared” You couldn’t help but laugh 

“I shall also consider that. I guess it’s the older brother in me. I just like scarring my sisters,” He replied, and you turned to face him slightly 

“You’re the oldest?” You asked, and he nodded 

“Yeah. Any siblings yourself?” He asked 

“Yeah, I’m also the oldest. Then, there’s technically three teenagers” You nodded 

“Bearman, your brother?” He asked, and you nodded slightly 

“Yeah, what gave it away?” You asked, and he chuckled slightly 

“You two look alike”, he replied, and you chuckled 

“You won’t be saying that when you see Ollie and Thomas together”, you answered as the presenter announced Haas to enter the stage, which is when you started worrying again. Of course, you would. Your younger brother was about to get on stage in front of thousands in person and millions at home. 

Your knee bounced under the table as your thoughts ran a hundred miles a minute. Thinking of anything and everything that could go wrong. Maybe it was an older sister thing, or perhaps it was just anxiety. It was one thing that you’d never know. Oscar, however, sat with you throughout their performance. A comforting feature compared to how you were feeling inside. 

“I’ll see you around then” He smiled, gently squeezing your shoulder before returning to the Mclaren table. 

A few weeks later, you were back in the paddock with Ollie as you were walking through the paddock. Oscar had stopped to talk to you every time you passed, and you weren’t exactly sure how to deal with the feelings. You’d followed Ollie around for so long, ensuring that there was always an adult with him and that you paused your relationships. 

You couldn’t remember the last time someone showed interest in you as a person and not in you as Oliver Bearman’s older sister. Never mind, it is a man who wanted to get closer to you even if, at the moment, his intentions haven’t been clear to you yet. 

“How’s Ollie doing?” Oscar asked, but you could only shrug a little. His crash wasn’t easy for you to watch or for him. 

“He’s beating himself up. He thinks he should have done better. The team aren’t the happiest, but no one blames him. They see it as one of those things that just happen,” You replied. Oscar squeezed your shoulder a little 

“I get that being the older sibling makes you want to take the pain away, but remember that you can't always. Unfortunately, sometimes we just have to let them learn” He smiled sadly, and you nodded 

“Yeah, I know”, you sighed, looking towards the Haas hospitality. 

“You know where to find me if you need advice.” He smiled while walking away. 

There was almost a new feeling in your chest. One you haven't felt before, or if you had, it had been so long ago that you'd forgotten. 

Oscar seemed nice, and you wanted to get closer to him. Maybe it was a crush forming on the Aussie driver. 

Over the past couple of months, you and Oscar had started to get closer to each other, which you first thought was just as friends. 

However, Oscar wasn't as great at hiding his romantic feelings as his general feelings. 

You wouldn't lie to anyone who asked. You liked him back. The issue though? You'd never had a romantic relationship with anyone. 

Anyone who had ever shown interest soon lost it when they realised that most of the year, you were halfway around the world. Meaning that you'd never experienced any of your firsts. Even at the ripe age of 23. 

Oscar had noticed you pulling away. There were no Facetime calls when you were both at home. You weren't texting him any celebrity drama at any given moment. And the one that hurt him the most? No movie nights after a race. 

He'd tried everything to keep the relationship going, even if it was just as friends, but you kept pulling away. 

The poor driver even went as far as asking your brother if you weren't well. To which Oliver told him he wanted this to go further more than you wanted it yourself. 

You kept pulling back; however, Oscar didn’t give up, going as far as to stop you in a quiet corner of the paddock on your way out after qualifying 

“You keep pulling away”, he stated, to which you just looked at him, waiting for him to continue his point “I’m not entirely sure why you’re doing it, but if it’s something I’ve done, I would like to know.” He finished, and you looked down at the ground. 

There was a lump forming in the back of your throat. You wanted to explain, you did, but you weren’t sure you could explain without it coming off that you were just being a complete bitch because really. He did nothing wrong. 

“Can we do it somewhere else?” You asked quietly, to which Oscar nodded 

“My driver's room is empty. Or I can come to your hotel room?” He suggested 

“I’d rather not do it in the paddock, so my hotel room?” You asked, to which he nodded 

“Just text me your room number, and I’ll come over when I’m done with media”, he smiled, gently squeezing your hand before allowing you to walk away

Changing into something more comfortable, the nerves ran through your veins. What would Oscar think? Would he now pull away? Would he think you were a bitch? You thought you were being a bitch 

A knock on the door paused your thoughts; as you got up walking over, your heart rate increased. You opened the door with a foot just behind it so that if someone wanted to force their way in, they couldn’t. 

However, on the other side of the door was just Oscar. You opened the door slightly, allowing him to enter the room. 

“Nice room” He smiled, and you looked around with a little shrug 

“It does for the weekend”, You replied as you sat down on the bed 

“I will leave as soon as you want me to; however, I’d like you to hear me out. Your brothers say you’re a good listener” He sat down on the chair, and you nodded 

“I can be when I want to be”, you replied, and he smiled slightly 

“After speaking to Ollie, I understood you a little more, even from a distance. Pushing your own life aside so he can follow his dreams. No matter how much it affected you. I now understand that’s why you’ve been pushing me away because, in your mind, it’s all about Ollie’s career and not your own” You shrugged a little 

“I’m his manager at this point. It’s my career. It keeps me going,” You replied 

“But he also told me that you also pushed anyone who wanted to have a relationship with you, which is why you pushed me away” You looked over at Oscar 

“That little snitch” You muttered. Oscar let out a breathy laugh “He might not be exactly wrong; however, I also didn’t like those guys who tried to date me. They either didn’t understand that I had to travel with Oscar, or they were just dicks” You replied with a shrug 

“Well, I’d like to think I’m neither of those. I like you, Y/N, and I know it’s only been a couple of months; however, I’m hoping you feel the same and may give me a chance?” He asked 

You were nervous, of course, you were, but Oscar also seemed like a good guy who, much like you, enjoyed your privacy and cared about his family 

“I’ll give you a trial period”, You joked, a small smile appearing on your face 

“I’ll take it. I’ll take anything!” He exclaimed, and you laughed a little, head dropping down as a blush formed on your cheeks 

“I was only joking about the trial period; however, I might have had no firsts, but I do have standards of not being asked out in the cheap hotel rooms Haas pay for” You smiled, and he nodded 

“An expensive Mclaren sponsor hotel room?” Oscar joked, to which you thought about it for a moment before shrugging your shoulders with a slight tilt of your head 

“Do they have good room service?” You asked, to which it was now his turn to shrug 

“I’ve never ordered it. My trainer makes up my meals for the weekend to make sure I don’t have too many cheat meals” You rolled your eyes at his confession 

“Obiously Mr Athelete doesn’t make his own meals or even order room service” You joked and he laughed 

“Why don’t you come over and try the room service?” He asked and you tilted your head a little. Sit in your room alone or join the innocent looking polite cat sitting opposite you in his hotel room. The options seemed so far apart but at the same time so close. 

You liked Oscar. You’d been talking to him through text and on Facetime for a couple months you trusted him. Why wouldn’t you? 

“Okay let’s go test your fancy room service” You smiled 

A few months later Ollie was jumping around you after your confession that you and Oscar were now together. 

You didn’t want to tell him before the race however it just slipped out in conversation that you had a date with your boyfriend and then after that you couldn’t stay quiet any longer. 

It was safe to say that Ollie liked having Oscar as a brother in law so when you and Oscar were walking through the paddock holding hands your younger brother couldn’t keep his excitement to himself sharing it with the rest of the rookies. 

Antonelli who was a very close friend of the family was also very excited to find out the news. Ollie and Kimi bothering you at any given moment was something that you’d grown used to at this point. 

Oscar however didn’t exactly know what to do when the two rookies joined you both in your hotel room when you were sat cuddling. You however just let them bounce about the place like little puppies until they became so tired that they basically fell asleep on the floor 

“Oh wow” Oscar muttered and you chuckled 

“You grow used to it” You smiled and he nodded slightly

Tag List

@molten-m122 , @thewannabewriter , @lozzamez3 , @barcelonaloverf1life , @hiireadstuff , @mxdi0 , @f1kenzzz , @evie-119 , @ahgase99 , @velcosainz , @talksoprettyjjx , @yllomhej , @scarletwidow3000 , @thegrapejuiceblues1982 , @tellybearryyyy , @zabwlky1999 , @xxx-betty , @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 , @lwstuff , @destinyg237 , @glitzyditsy , @chuckpiboli , @sltwins , @randomf1fan , @myloverjk , @lilymurphy03 , @rqlstefanny @luca-fantilli63 , @alex-wotton , @tpqkstiles , @maymustdie , @formula1-motogpfan , @geniusalpaca , @sophiacalabrese , @alice-went-away , @lurv4miya , @norstappenvibes , @somerandomf1fan , @teti-menchon0604 , @devilacot , @mynameisangeloflife , @widow-cevans , @callsignwidow , @chocolatepoetryfun

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

ﻣَﻠَﻜِﻲّ.

synopsis: arab royalty a/u, you’ve been betrothed to a prince from a kingdoms just miles away, but you two don’t seem to get along so well…at first

tags: alhaitham x reader, angsty in the start, vulgar, explicit, cunnalingus, fingering, penetration

wrd cnt: 1.3k+

a/n: click title for a song that i love, ( title translates to “royal”)

As you stepped into the grand, ornate foyer of Alhaitham's estate, your anxiety spiked. You had never felt so out of place in your life. The arranged marriage, a convenience for both your families, had been a shock to your system. Leaving behind your country, family, and friends had been a hard pill to swallow. You knew Alhaitham for years, your kingdom and his had a strong alliance, hence your betrothal making the utmost sense. Well, that is if anyone had bothered to tell you about it til a few days prior to the ceremony.

You throw your things to the floor, watching him stand so casually, his life remaining still while yours was pitted.

“What am I doing here. Why can’t I just stay back? No one in the Kingdom will have to know.”

Alhaitham, standing by the fireplace, raised an eyebrow. "You're here because our families deemed it necessary, Princess. We both know the arrangements.”

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that. You don't get to address me like we're old friends."

He smiles, his dark eyes glinting. "Well we were once, no? We're married now, whether we like it or not. You might as well get used to it."

The tension between you two was palpable, you feel the weight of your unresolved emotions. You had never intended to marry anyone in a matter of politics, especially not prince Alhaitham, who seemed to embody the very essence of arrogance.

"You have no idea what I've sacrificed for this farce, do you?" you spat, your anger boiling over. "I left behind everything that mattered to me. And for what? To marry some pompous prince who thinks he's above me?"

Alhaitham's expression darkened, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. "You think I wanted this? I'm a prince- a gentleman, not some lovesick fool. I have duties, responsibilities for one day I shall be King. This marriage was as much a convenience for me as it was for you."

“For me? What the hell are you talking about- the only convenience I have now is a new carriage that’ll only take me to ridiculous dinners and stuffy tea parties!” You spout about in anger, slowly approaching him with your eyes casting a ferocity that wasn’t just the reflection of the flames from the fireplace.

“I was sold to you like a brood mare- what convenience do I have your majesty?!”

The air was heavy with animosity, the space between you cracked with tension. Your heart raced as Alhaitham took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours.

“Then leave. Leave now and you’ll never have to attend a ridiculous dinner, any stuffy tea parties, or ever have to look at this pompous prince again. I give you my blessing dear.”

Everything inside you told you to turn around and drag your feet out his castle, to hear your wedding dress trailing behind you as you forbade yourself to look back. Everything inside you except the rapturing feeling that dwelled inside your stomach, urging you to soak your heart in it: let it coat every atom of your body.

As his words came out, you couldn’t help but feel magnetized to him. His tone was calm, while his words harsh; beckoning you to swallow them like a pill.

“Well? Why aren’t you running princess?” He says, his finger grazing your cheek, watching you breathe heavier and close your eyes at his touch, brows wincing as his breathe hits your face.

“Shut up.” You say, or rather whisper, his lips feeling so close to yours you might faint.

Suddenly, he grasped your face, pulling you into a fierce kiss. The anger and frustration melted away, replaced by a burning desire you couldn't deny. His lips devoured your, tongues clashing in a frenzied dance.

You could felt your senses reel as Alhaitham's hands roamed your body, stripping away your lavish dress and undergarments with an efficiency that left your breathless.

You were naked, exposed, and yet you felt no shame for he had rid himself of garments as well under your touch. The anger and resentment had given way to a primal attraction that neither of you could ignore.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, and spun your around. Your hands slapped against the warm cloth stitched onto

the burgundy couch that stationed itself before the fireplace; Alhaitham's fingers delving between your thighs, his touch sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

He kissed the nape of your neck, swinging your braided hair to the your side to give him more space to leave his lovely marks upon your flesh.

Desire crackled through the air louder than the flames behind you, bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time. Alhaitham's hands explored every inch of you, his fingers teasing your sensitive spots, handling you and figuring out exactly what you liked as if it was as easy as breathing. You both surrendered to passion.

As his lips traveled down your spine, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. You could feel the heat building between your thighs as his hands reached around touch you more. His fingers teased your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. You turned to face him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath your touch. He pushed you down onto the couch, his mouth moving lower and lower until he reached the apex of your thighs.

Slowly he’d kiss you closer and closer to where you really needed it.

“Look how desperate you look princess, this is far from running you know.” He says with pride.

Before you can even respond with an insult or deflecting, his tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned his name as he continued to lick and suck, his fingers slipping inside you to add to your ecstasy. You suddenly didn’t take his comment to offense.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you bucked your hips against his face, desperate for more.

He moved up to kiss you, making you taste your own arousal.

“Such a naughty thing you are…where’s all that anger? It was sorta cute”.

You could feel the ache of desire burning within you, anger now turning into wanting nothing more than to have him inside you.

"Fuck me," you whispered, the words barely audible.

Alhaitham's response was a low, menacing chuckle. "Oh, I will."

He slipped his cock up and down your folds, his tip prodding your glistening hole, still soaked with his spit. Slowly he’d enter you, watching your face contort as let out a small gasp as you felt him fill the empty space in your walls.

“Just relax okay? I’ll take care of you.” He assured.

He thrusted into you, slowly getting you used to his cock pounding against your pussy with a ferocity that left you gasping so much. The sounds of your lovemaking echoed through the silent rooms, a primal symphony that drowned out the doubts and fears. He hovered over you, eyes locked into yours and back at the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight hole, milking him for all it’s worth.

It wasn’t long before you came together, bodies entwined, feeling a spark of connection you couldn't explain.

It was as if, in this moment, your union was more than just a convenient arrangement. It was a union of flesh and blood, of sweat and desire.

As you both collapsed onto the couch, spent and exhausted, you gazed up at Alhaitham's face, his eyes gleaming with a newfound intensity.

"Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all," you said; voice husky.

Alhaitham's smile was wicked, his teeth glinting in the fading light. "I told you, Princess. We'll make this work."the story

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[punctuation-completionist]

since today is punctuation day, i figured i'd talk with you about my favorite punctuation that is sadly not in unicode

(my apologies if these crop weird)

these six marks were invented by french writer hervé bazin in his essay plumons l'oiseau (or 'let's pluck the bird')

while the essay also had aim to switch the french language to a more phonetic writing system, it also gave us six new punctuation marks!

from left to right and top to bottom these are, the acclamation point, the authority mark, the conviction point, the doubt point, the irony mark, and the love point. so let's go over what these all were supposed to convey! (or at least what i expect they were supposed to)

the acclamation point was meant for praise, goodwill, and enthusiasm (ie "Well done [acclamation point]")

the authority mark was meant to be used in situations where the exclamation was serious and involved a degree of command or urgency (ie "Get in my office right now [authority mark]") i think this— along with the love point and irony mark— shows how a lot of these punctuation marks were a bit like early examples of tone tags, i'll get into it more later

the certitude point was used to show sureness in a fact. (ie "It's absolutely positively true [certitude point]") i think this might be the most useless of the bunch but whatever. i digress.

the doubt point is kind of the opposite of the certitude point, used when you aren't sure of something (ie "It should be done tomorrow [doubt point]") also it should be noted that the example used above is not the only way you'll see the doubt point, some also have it looking like this

the idea of irony marks has been widely suggested, for example the poet/art critic/song writer (i think, this guy's only wiki page is in french and i am guessing a bit on the word 'chansonnier') alcanter de brahm suggested an irony mark that resembled a backwards question mark (not to be confused with the percontation point which indicated a rhetorical question) and belgian inventor (among other things) marcellin jobard suggested a point that looked like an upwards arrow (this △ on top of this |, i can't paste it)

^ de brahm's mark

all that to say, bazin's mark was based off of the greek letter psi (Ψ) which some of you may recognize if you are familiar with the greek language or comics that shall not be named. it's used in situations of irony (ie saying "Wow, that sure was brilliant [irony mark]" if someone did something stupid)

and our last point is the love point, known for being so adorable, and indicating love or affection after a sentence (ie "Thanks a lot bud [love point]")

now we can obviously see that some of these are very similar to tone tags! the love point could be like a /pos, the irony mark is kinda like a /sarc, the authority mark could be like a /srs . i just thought it was interesting i guess. i don't have a point (heh) here exactly except that i guess people might actually need these punctuation marks ? so unicode? give me the love point or give me death

anyways so that's some fun niche history for y'all! hope you enjoyed

[snaitf]

I had to look it up because "Hound of the Baskervilles" being one of the tags gave me whiplash. Omg WHY is this so funny?? Hugo B, you okay man?

Why is this so fucking funny

[writingwisterias]

Day 17: Threesome

DI! Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader x Jill Valentine Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Threesome - M,F,F , Oral, Face riding, Cowgirl, Unprotected sex Masterlist

Leon had no fucking clue how he ended up in this situation. Not that he was complaining though. He was lying on the bed, his raging hard-on twitching and throbbing at the sight before him. His beautiful girlfriend, her naked form shining in the dim light of the bedroom like he was some goddess. Your whines filled the room, each one causing blood to rush to his cock. He desperately wanted to relieve some of the pressure, wanting to cave and lubricate his cock with the large amount of precum that he had spilt already but Jill told him he wasn’t allowed to touch it. Yes, Jill Valentine - he had only met the woman recently after their mission in Alcatraz.

The group invited him out for drinks, which you tagged with him for support or to make sure he didn’t exceed his limit. However, you had hit it off with his new acquaintance. Spending the evening laughing and joking, doing shots. Jealous ran through his system just like it did now as he watched Jill switch between your breasts. 

He watched as the woman's fingers worked your pussy, circling the clit or spreading your arousal all over. When Jill wasn’t in the way he could vaguely see it spread over your thighs. His fingers itched to touch you, his mouth watered at the thought of your sweet taste. Leon was a patient man however, he would wait. 

Jill let go of your breast with a pop, a line of saliva following her movements. She looked over her shoulder at Leon. He grumbled at her chuckle, watching how pathetic he looked like that. “Jealous?” Jill teased. His eyes narrowed glaring at the woman but it disappeared as fast as it formed. Her fingers lightly followed the veins on his cock, cupping his balls with the heel of her palm. You smiled at his whimper, watching as he followed her movements. “Come here darling” Jill instructed pointing to you. Leon smiled as he saw you approach, his eyes fluttering shut when he felt your fingers touch his thighs. “I think Leon is jealous, shall we give him some love?” 

She brought your hand to his cock it instantly twitched to your touch. Leon grumbled as Jill set a pace, guiding your hand to the movement that she wanted. Your thumb swiped across the slit in his tip, smiling at the cloudy liquid that decorated the nail varnish you wore. Jill moved towards his head, her breasts bouncing as she moved catching Leon’s attention. With a nod from Jill, you swung your leg to the overside of him, now hovering over his desperate cock. He could perfectly see all the foreplay Jill had done, your breast perked and tight the nipples erect. Your lips were coated in your juices, your pussy puffy and waiting to sink on him. Leon’s hands gripped at the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. He almost forgot Jill was in the room until her thighs landed at either side of his head, muting the sounds of the room as she cushioned them. He wanted to groan, to protest that he wouldn’t be able to hear the wet sounds of your pussy riding on his cock. Your sweet little moans as he makes you feel full. It was all his favourite part. 

He watched as you sunk onto his cock, his length disappearing inside of you. Your ass putting the right amount of pleasure on his balls. You didn’t move, just waited patiently for Jill’s next instruction - always the good girl he thought. He had trained you well. A shadow formed over his face as he looked up to be met with the view of Jill’s pussy. Her arousal had coated her despite the lack of attention she had given herself. As if making the both of you feel good was enough for her. He watched greedily as Jill lowered herself onto his face. A smirk already filled his features as he thought about his next move. Unlike you, Leon didn’t play by the rules. Jill’s control faltered and he began to feast upon her. He could feel her thighs tighten around his head muting the sounds around him further, her hips already rocking against his stubble. 

It was his turn to moan again as you began to move, working yourself to an orgasm focusing only on his lower half. He could feel your fingers lightly scrape at his abs, your nails digging into the muscles as you worked yourself on his cock. Your walls fluttered as you brought yourself closer to your orgasm, he wanted to focus on the feeling but with Jill riding her face it was hard. 

His cock was so painfully hard with all the attention on him. “Such an attention whore” You chuckled to the woman oppiste you. The only one that could actually hear you. Jill laughed as well, followed by a loud groan from her as she began to hit his nose just right. Leon’s fingers dug into her hips as he pulled Jill closer to him. Devouring her eagerly. You could feel the puffy veins of his cock as they dragged through you. His cock throbbed the closer he got, his orgasm practically going to explode inside of you. You picked up your speed as best you could, your thighs burning from the movements. Your hands now pressed on his stomach firmly as you worked yourself faster. He smiled against Jill. Her fingers now tugging at the strands of his hair. His nose brushed against her clit with each thrust she made. Leon sucked harder, his tongue working magic as you all attempted to release at the same time. 

He vaguely heard Jill talk again, her commanding voice weakening as her orgasm was impending. He wasn’t sure what the instruction was until he finally felt you clench around his cock. Your perfect cunt sucked him in place as your orgasm shattered through you. He could feel it drip down his balls as they tightened, ready for his release inside of you. To pump you full of him so you wouldn’t forget who you belonged to in this scenario. Jill tugged on his hair, his face getting drenched in her juices as he sucked hard on it. It was only when she lifted she smirked down at his puffy lips and his lust-blown eyes. A pleading look on his face as he continued to thrust up into you like some horny dog. Jill nodded her head, permitting him to finally cum. 

You smiled as his warmth filled you, his cock driving so deep inside as he deposited it. You could feel it drip out of you, creating a cocktail of the two of you. Jill smiled at the intimacy of the two of you. The love you both had made her smile as you both calmed down. “That was-” Leon groaned, his head falling back on soft sheets. You didn’t move, enjoying the feeling of him softening inside of you. Jill placed a kiss on your cheek and ruffled the man's hair a signal of her goodbye. A hidden promise in her eyes as you watched her leave for another round one day soon. 

Leon tugged you into his chest, holding you close in the post-orgasm state. Neither of you said anything instead letting the newfound relaxation take you both into a peaceful sleep. 

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo @crazy-b1tch @misswynters

[girl-lostconnection]

Ask and you shall receive, I cooked this one up in my notes a few days ago but forgot to send it to you

Helldiver!Reader growing attached to a younger recruit, they see themselves in them, and they want nothing more than to force them off their ship and make sure they don’t make the fall from grace they did.

They want to turn them away, to stop them from diving into the hellscape with them, but they can’t, the moment the recruit signed up they became the governments loyal dog, only stopping when their heart does

Helldiver!Reader finds themselves going softer on them, much to their dismay, they grow close with this recruit, which is very against their person policy (there’s a 99% this kid won’t make it until the end of the week, they can’t get too close..)

But they do, they get far too close, to the point the kid is telling Helldiver!reader why they signed up, that they have no one on the outside and they decided screw it, they’ve got nothing else to lose may aswell become a chew toy for the creatures of hell… right?

Helldiver!Reader gets so close that the recruit is now treating them as a parental figure, and one drunken night confesses that Helldiver!Reader is the only family they have, and that’s when Helldiver!reader realises they’re in too deep, they’re too close, too attached.

The regret of being to close to this recruit comes to an head when they lose them, on the battlefield, torn to shreds by some creature and calling out for Helldiver!Reader to do something, to save them, but they can’t, all they can do is watch as this kid dies slowly, and painfully, and at the end, retrieve their dog tags.

There’s no funeral, no mass, no mourning, the kid didn’t have a family or home for their remains to be shipped off to, so their body stays in the hellscape, slowly rotting away; soon to be forgotten…

(Something something something I’ve never played helldivers so I have no idea how accurate this is, I just had this funky idea for a character and then it spiralled into this)

Legs have swung

The young thing is skittish and too tense, fear clouding his judgement and making him slip more often than not, his finger on a trigger shooting without any account for recoil or the fact that loud noise attracts the enemy.

He is fresh out of training, his ship a useless can of a transport — no stratagems, no enhancements, just him and the basic weapon he got in training.

You move to cover him if the enemy comes out blasting — getting ahead, trying to keep one eye on the mark scanning the grounds and another one on bloody cadet that somehow slipped through the cracks of Vog-Sojoth.

You sigh, hoisting the precious bot head with data up higher and nod to the lad to keep going.

You know he is getting agitated — you had to “reinforce” him 8 times already and now fear gives place to embarrassment and stupid reckless urge to prove himself.

No one likes looking like a damn fool, but it’s not kid’s fault system lags and lets him get down to level 10 “The Helldive” when he was barely cleared for level 5.

It’s not his fault this it went like that.

Sometimes it just happens and there was no way he could have been ready for the madness that comes with war that rages down here.

You don’t blame him for being scared or for shame that clouds his head or for nerve damage induced shaking after pumping 13 stims through him just to keep the lad going.

But what you do blame him for is for trying to show off to you.

Because it’s not worth it down here, it’s never fucking worth it.

Helldives this filled up are the only place where you need to survive first and foremost and where rules and dignity and pride don’t matter.

It’s the only place where each of you is supposed to hold onto each other and never let go just so you stand a chance of getting out in one piece and coming out on the other side.

The only place where even trained and tried Helldivers like you two need to brace for impact before they even hit the ground.

Extraction is gruesome and bloody — longest three minutes of wait of your fucking life, enemies pouring from every bloody hill, kid behind you shooting without looking where he does.

Few of his bullets graze you a little too close to home.

One of his grenades almost leaves you without a leg.

But it’s not the time to smack the dumb little thing, not the time to knock some sense into him — there is a minute and a half before Pelikan-1 descends and you are almost empty.

So you have to push the cadet down, forcing him to stay low as to not let anyone shoot him and call in supplies.

You try not to think about how much adrenaline is running through you and that you made a mistake twice trying to call in additional ammunition.

You have one more orbital laser that will descend from the sky like God’s fury destroying enemy in its wake and better you have a shit ton of stims when it runs out.

Timer clicks forward, seconds seeping out and some of your anxious rage subsided when mechanical voice chimes “additional reinforcements approved”.

Thank fuck for that.

One more chance — a safety net, one for both of you to stretch out.

You better make it count.

A minute and a half on Vog-Sojoth stretches out and chokes you out, because no matter how much you will do — the work is never done.

Enemies are pouring from every side, you sentries are working non stop as you duck and cover and shoot and duck and cover and shoot and duck and cover—

You are never actually out, you just get to take a break before coming back down to this hellhole and laying ruin in your wake.

It’s a cruel glory to be one of you.

It’s not pretty, it’s not even well-paid but sometimes…sometimes when you meet runts like this one you understand why you are still there.

What are you even doing in a hell like this one.

The cadet whimpers from pain — laceration from shrapnel bleed him out quick to leave him dry and cold.

But you are mad and stubborn and you refuse to let the kid die. It won’t happen today. Not with you.

Stim after stim are getting plunged in him, forcing his heart to keep going, forcing his blood count replenish at the speed that is not possible or normal, but why would it matter if he gets to live another day?

You will kill his stupid reckless ass yourself as soon as he gets better.

But by the time extraction shuttle reaches your ship the lad is stabilised and shaking like a bloody leaf — uniform torn and fists clenched.

Adrenaline finally crashing down and crashing him in the process.

You have to practically drag the kid out, his legs not listening to him, not moving properly so you pull him up, grunting and annoyed.

God knows you are tired.

God knows you are hungry and in a whole lot of pain and mad at him for acting like a right proper twat. But he latches onto you, like you are the lifeline, his grip on you so hard you can feel it through layers of kevlar and plates of armour.

Takes you a moment to notice that he is shaking. Takes you another one to drag his helmet off and oh, he’s fresh faced and smooth — barely 18, barely out of training, barely capable of holding his own on lower levels.

Thought hits you like a brick to the back of your head, pain spreading down to shoulders, sharp realisation digging through your nervous system.

He probably has never died before. He probably has never been reinforced this much before

He probably doesn’t understand why his body is brand new when he aches all over.

He probably doesn’t know why he can’t black out.

You have to take your own helmet off, his lip trembling when he can finally see your face. You know.

After a while down there Helldiver’s uniform starts to look a little too much like Automaton.

After a while you can’t remember how humans are supposed to look, everything in you diminishing to few very basic tasks and commands. Tactical optimisation, that’s how command would call it.

You call it the “mutt mode”. No use for long thoughts when they can kill you. No use for working through trauma if the actual awareness of how fucked up the things are almost drove you insane once.

“Come on, cadet, it’s okay, you are okay.”, you murmur, pulling off gauntlets and gloves, letting him feel the warmth of your skin, the lines of your scars.

Warm tangible and human.

He shakes when you scoop him up and whimpers, phantom pain wrecking his body, phantom pain tearing out his ligaments and cutting off his limbs.

“I’m right here, yeah? I’m not leaving you, I know it hurts.”, you wave off your staff and massage the scalp of his with your fingers, trying to ground him on something. “It will pass, the first fifteen minutes are the worst, it will pass, cadet, come on, breathe with me”.

Your whisper is awkward frantic rumble, it’s been a while since you comforted anyone but the lad soaks it right up, forces himself to breath, presses his head against your neck.

Listens to your heartbeat.

You hum quietly as he does and he melts into you. He is as young as they get here, he is aching and tired, his face wet with tears and blood. But he is alive.

You stay on the cold steel floors until he stops shaking. You stay on the cold steel floors, massaging his head and not saying a thing when he nuzzles into your neck and stays there with no intention to (ha-ha) dive out.

The lad in your hands is young and aching and you won’t force him to go. Maybe if you teach him some things he will leave on his own.

Maybe he will get to keep himself safe without you and leave for good. One more decent Helldiver in your branch. One more chance for others like him to survive.

That would be nice.

You think this throughout the next few months and at some point forget he was supposed to leave. Because he doesn’t.

He is chatty and energetic, makes paper cranes out of old reports and shares whatever gossip other runts share with him. Always comes back to you hauling something, like a hound that is bringing game from the hunt.

Eager for praise and melting from your approval.

He’s touchy but in a way that makes you feel softer, he knows when to give space but more often than not your personal space turns into “our personal space, yeah?”.

And despite huffing with exasperation you let him. Why not? He’s warm and he smells nice under all the blood and gore you both are covered in.

He starts feeling like part of your life. Part of you.

Second pair of hands, another heart in the rib cage of yours, breathing in your neck when he decompresses after dives by wrapping himself around you.

He doesn’t talk much about his life before, doesn’t mention any family and for some reason you start talking first.

Sharing that no one waits for you back home. That you aren’t sure if you have one anymore.

He hums, unusually silent before wrapping himself around you again, tucking his head under your chin like he’s a koala.

You don’t come back to this conversation until months later, you two standing over what was terminid nursery before you launched a bloody nuke in the depth of it.

“L.T.?”, his voice snaps you out of staring down the abyss, making you take a step back and remember about your objective. Still two more nurseries to go.

“Yeah?”, you muse back, voice cracking through your comms, click of you changing magazines in your primary. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it…really necessary?”, he asks and for a moment your mind blanks out. Perhaps he senses it because he hastily adds. “I mean, I understand the need to destroy terminids. But the nurseries…we are killing their eggs, L.T. It’s their children. No wonder they are so determined to kill us”

You make a noncommittal sound in return, busying yourself with checking your gear, lad’s eyes boring in the back of your head.

“You ever thought we might be the bad guys?”, you half expected the question but it still catches you off guard, eyes flickering to your runt, not even cadet anymore, with heavy intensity.

You don’t say anything but you don’t really need to — he snaps his jaws shut once you softly tap the side of your helmet. All comms are being monitored.

All interactions being observed from the moment you step out of the ship.

You don’t say anything to your chatty charge but he can see the grim expression on your face as you holster your secondary weapon.

“Maybe we are.”, you say after a while, not explaining what are you referring to, but understanding dawns on him after a beat. “Though I’m doing it few years longer than you are. What kind of person it makes me, m?”.

Lad stops and for a moment there is sharpness in his eyes you didn’t expect. Heavy sort of protectiveness.

He opens his mouth, stepping closer to you but then remembers that you are still being monitored and falls silent.

Years later you will wonder what he wanted to say. Years later you will regret you never asked.

But in the moment you turn away and push forward. It’s not the place nor the time.

You both know who you are. 

What kind of person it makes you if you mindlessly killed thousands of terminid species and never asked why was it okay to commit atrocities?

The answer is simple: a really wicked one.

Each and every one of you is a war criminal. It’s just that some have more conscience than others. Doesn’t make you less guilty.

“Can you promise me something?”, the question is sudden, but you just pause before focusing back on the terminal and its adjustment, trying to turn off the bloody broadcast tower.

The lad, now finally a sergeant, sits on the abandoned chair, hands wrapped around his primary like it’s a baby he’s nursing and not a semi-automatic rifle.

“Don’t let them replicate me again, aye? I know they destroy ships if mission fails and mine is…well, you saw. Nothing like a bird you are piloting. They can destroy mine. Together with the “reinforcements” of me”, he says softly and it’s so nonchalant you almost miss it. Registering his words a moment too late, your fingers twitching to curl into a fist.

“Why?”, is a sharp and curt and you didn’t mean it to come out that way, but god knows you have never been good at this kind of conversations.

He deserves certainly more than your sneering. He deserves to know that ships are made to be better with time, he deserves to know that he doesn’t need to die. He deserves to know that you like him and you want to work with him again.

He deserves to know that he’s a good Helldiver.

He deserves to know he is needed here.

(He deserves to know you like his hugs and spontaneous cuddling, he deserves to know that he is part of you, that you can’t imagine yourself without him. He deserves to know that it doesn’t matter if down on Earth no one waits for him — up here you always will. He deserves to know he is your favourite runt. Your only runt)

Years later you will try to remember his response to your question.

Years later you will toss and turn at night, rummage through your journals and try to find answers.

You will never get them.

But the memory of his smile — soft curl of his lips beautiful enough to make a soldier like you weep and kneel — will keep you going for the next eternity and a half of endless service.

Why have you never said it to him? Why did you never said how much he meant to you?

Why-why-why-why-why?

You think about it as you drag him into Pelikan-1 that you forced to come down even though it would be third time they re-attempt pick up.

You think about it as you pump him full of stims and do chest compressions at some point forgetting to count and forgetting to breathe.

He is lying on the floor, eyes sharp with understanding, impossibly blue — prettiest summer sky you ever saw.

He looks at you like it’s a goodbye.

It’s not a goodbye.

It can’t be goodbye, you just got used to him, you have finally accepted that he’s staying, you can’t say goodbye.

You won’t say goodbye.

He’s not dying on you.

You will kill his stupid reckless ass yourself as soon as he gets better.

And he will get better, medics will patch him up — he will be like new in no time.

He is not leaving you, he isn’t going, you can save him. You will save him.

You practically slam both of you on the hard floors of your ship, gear and legs too heavy to move, your body aching with exhaustion — your vision is filled with dark spots, pain lacing through your nervous system with every beat of your heart.

Someone is speaking to you but you don’t know them and you don’t hear them, blood roaring in your ears, your fingers clenched in a death grip on the vest of your runt. Your cadet. Your lad.

“Lieutenant, you have to let go”, the voice is muffled, all sounds are, like you are underwater. The blood pumping in your ears is so loud you aren’t sure if you can still hear properly.

There’s pain in your wrists and aching in your fingers, your body too cold and sticky which doesn’t matter right now, none of it matters.

You need your med bay now, you need the medic, you need to save him.

You need to get up and move-move-move.

Another Helldiver crouches in front of you, their eyes unusually soft — glimmering through the visor of their helmet. Their rank shines like a bloody supernova and what are they doing on your fucking ship.

(You know what they do here, don’t you? The SOS beacon, the mission, the frenzy and panic.)

They are soft and you hate them because they pry your fingers open, they force you up, they hold you tight as you crumble.

You have no right to mourn someone who barely reached the rank of sergeant, who you dragged to hell and back, who almost dragged you down.

But you do. God, you do.

Your eyes skim over the sealed off and soldered down doors of what previously was your med bay.

You really can’t save him. You can never save him, can’t you?

You can never keep anyone, not even this once, not even this lad.

Sob builds up in your throat, pushes through bile of realisation and draws out your rage because not fair, not fucking fair, never fair.

Weren’t you good? Haven’t you done your due? Didn’t you earn to have something in your hellbane of an existence?

Despair is coursing through you — thick enough to choke you out, building up in your throat, hurting you and hollowing out. Strong enough to force you back on your knees.

You can never get up. You won’t ever get up again.

You don’t want to.

But commander forces you up, strong hands holding you on your legs, their voice thick with something you can’t place in a shell shocked state of yours.

You can’t save him-you can’t save him-you can’t save him.

You can’t even try.

“You did good. We’ll be able to bury them. You did good, lieutenant, you didn’t leave them behind”, the murmur in your ear is quiet and hands around you just get tighter.

It takes you a full night before you come back and declare your lad a traitor. He will not get reinforced, his ship will be blasted to pieces and his name wiped out and forgotten.

Against every recommendation and veiled threats to report it as undemocratic you stuff his body in the same capsule you are using and jump down on Vog-Sojoth.

Your hands wrapped around him and he’s cold-cold-cold, god he has never been this cold, you should have covered him with something, you should have took care of it, he might have died cold.

But your lad is motionless doll when you drag him out and find a nice enough place to bury him.

You haul the gravestone from one of the mass burials for other divers and you knife out the name.

They have no right to remember him. They have no right to his name. No right to him.

Doesn’t matter what happens later.

What matters is that you did what you promised. Never again will he be reinforced, never again will he return to your ship, never again will he laugh with you late at night.

You could never save him — his grave unnamed place on a lovely hill and your hands are sticky with blood from torn callouses. You have been digging for a good hour before you were finally sure no one would marauder his body.

Time and continuous reinforcements will wipe his name out of your memory. But you will always remember the way sun shined on the tiny grave on Vog-Sojoth.

Unnamed and forgotten, he will lie resting.

You hope he gets a good sleep. You hope next time — maybe he will stay with you.

Maybe next time you won’t need to learn how to live without him.

Maybe next time you are a good person. And he still wants to be your friend.

Taglist: @synthe4u

[horseimagebarn]

archive ask submit faq

hello and welcome to horseimagebarn this is where i write descriptions of horse pictures for my audience in order to explore the questions why how and okay as well as ponder the true nature of the equine i shall now explain the ins and outs of this blog to you for ease of navigation and understanding for this shall be my pinned post for all to enjoy number one you may submit horse images to me that you want me to write a description for and i shall try to oblige you however i receive many many many submissions and cannot always conjure up a description that is both helpful and heartful so i cannot guarantee a fulfillment of your request though i assure you every single submission is looked at and smiled at by myself no matter what number two my horses are categorized using a tagging system if you wish to navigate them here or in my archive here are all of the tags i use and links to view them number three this blog is not intended to produce image ids for screenreaders or other similar accessibility purposes and is instead meant to be read for entertainment however proper ids are provided in the alt text of most posts neighhhh - typical horse posts this is for when you just want to see the horses without seeing my asks or reblogs

joy - for the happy

whimsy - for the positive oddities and love of life

cursed - this is cursed

lament - for sadness

anger - self explanatory

sloth - laziness and comfort

love - horses that are in love

friendship - horse or horses and some other being or beings displaying friendship

indulgence - indulging in food water alcohol drugs etc

intelligence - doing tasks that hint at an above average intelligence

small - small or miniature horses

baby - baby horses

decadence - fanciness and elaborateness

evil - evilness and cruelty

unusual - this is unusual

vehemence - upset or disgust

styling - for all the well dressed horses

dog - there is a dog in the image

cat - there is a cat in the image

beasts - all other animals

cute - i think this horse is cute

aquatics - the horse is in the water

uncomfortable - the horse is uncomfortable or i am uncomfortable

regular - a pretty regular and or uncontroversial image of a horse

interesting - just interesting to me

beautiful - a truly gorgeous image

weather - horse interacting with the aspect of weather

singular horse - one horse

multiple horses - multiple horses

indoors - indoor horse

outdoors - outdoor horse

horseimagebarn talking - i am speaking in a post that is not the typical horse post like asks or reblogs and such so if you are just here for the horses and not my other strange ramblings i suggest muting this tag

horseimagebarn announcements - announcements regarding horseimagebarn trinket - one specific miniature horse that is an etsy model of beautiful miniature horse clothes in my local area that i have a parasocial relationship with dischorse - i write long essay style posts about horses sometimes when i get sent asks that make me think hard or maybe discuss horse community things

enjoy my blog and remember to love horses every day or at least most days

[brighan]

Some miscellaneous Warframe arts I never posted here and I shall now re-link in Warframe's forums!

Luckily I've been able to find everything else in here rather easily (thank you tag system)

[mydeeralastor]

It has come to my attention that some of my fellow aroace fans of Alastor feel isolated in the fandom. For fans of Alastor who do not like shipping the advice is usually to block the ship tags and block people who post ships without proper tagging. However, this has led to Tumblr's blocking system apparently working against them as the tag tends to be almost empty for them. This blog aims to fix that by creating a way for sex/romance-repulsed fans of Alastor to enjoy the Alastor tag without having to worry.

Everything from the #alastor tag will be reblogged to this blog except for the following:

Sex/romance Alastor ship posts: the main purpose of the blog is to remove this from the equation, allowing repulsed aroace fans to view platonic versions of the ships without worry.

RP posts: No one can predict in what direction a role-playing blog might go as it depends on the interactions between the blog and those who send in messages. I don't want to create the idea that the RP blog is sex/romance-free only for it to go in that direction in the future

Anti-Hazbin content: I do not repost such content on my main blog and I will not post that here. The idea of this blog is for people to have fun so I will not bring that negativity into this space.

Spam posts: Added as an exception on 31st December 2024. I will not be reblogging posts from spam blogs that post in the tags to sell products to fans. I don't trust the things they are selling and today I had to deal with one that basically filled the tags with their products. With agreement based on the poll, I shall not be subjecting viewers to those kinds of posts.

Even if you have a ship tag blocked, you can click on it on this blog with the knowledge that it will be platonic. However, just because that post can be viewed platonically does not mean that the op's blog posts the ship platonically. Please be sure to exercise caution in visiting people's blogs whose #Alastor posts are reblogged here. In addition to using the original tags by the creators of the posts, all posts are tagged with #filtered aroace alastor. Hopefully, this will be fun.

Started on 11th December, 2024 and is dedicated to @undead-discourse who inspired this blog.

I just want it to be known that I don't personally agree with everything I reblog to this blog. Part of the purpose of the exceptions is to prevent me from using personal bias to pick what I reblog. There are therefore times when I reblog a post that makes me angry enough to want to go on a rant because they do not meet any of the exceptions to reblogging, like the annoying post I had to reblog on the 29th of January 2025. My personal posts on this blog aren't tagged with #filtered aroace alastor.

[funger-rips]

Inbox Status: OPEN

This blog is dedicated to exporting the in-game artwork and archiving development updates for Fear and Hunger and it's sequel, Fear and Hunger: Termina. Please see below the cut for details on how I run this account, as well as the tagging system I use to make finding certain images easier.

Pinned last updated on: April 16th, 2025 Reason: Updated formatting, added Q&A section

Blog Guidelines:

I post rips/archive works up to once a day, aside from answering asks or blog updates. I run on a queue usually. I may post less frequently depending on how busy I am.

I will not answer requests directly, but I DO read every request and try to get to them in order. It's just me here, a one-man band. So please be patient if I do not get to your ask/request soon.

There is a 30 image limit per post, so I will space out requests and similar content across posts if needed. I will leave links on each post that has another post that directly connects to it.

I try to answer and post requests as precisely as possible, but please note that an unclear or overly broad request will have to be taken with a grain of salt. It helps if you specify the game, and request something small or very specific.

I do not require credit. I don't really care, it's not like I made the art. If anything, credit Miro. However, if you wish to credit this blog or link to it, be my guest. No yums shall be yucked.

I am not the original owner of this blog or the idea of archiving in-game content. This blog, "funger-rips", was owned by someone prior before it was deleted. I am only mentioning this because all of the content they ripped was deleted. So if you think, "I swore I saw this ripped before," that's maybe why. I do not know the original owner.

Please no joke asks/requests! Unrelated questions about me, the blog, miscellaneous stuff, etc. are acceptable. Just no joke content that's rhetorical that I can't really give a reply to.

Q&A:

"Who runs this blog?"

Just me, a lone fella, no one in particular ₍^. .^₎⟆

"Are DM requests acceptable?"

Yes, though I say that hesitantly- it's harder to keep track of what I need to work on if I have multiple sources of requests to check on. I prefer the inbox.

Blog Tags (I will update as I make new ones):

#sprite rips: The bulk of this blog. I go into the game's files directly and convert the artwork into usable png's.

#devblog content: Archive of any "third party" content Miro posts. Includes dev screenshots, YouTube videos, teasers, old scrapped content, etc. posted on his various socials. Sources will be given. I will NOT archive something unless I have definitive proof Miro posted it.

#mod talks: Blog updates and maintenance content. Mundane stuff that aren't rips or archives.

#askbox: For when I answer asks directly. I only answer asks if they aren't requests, just actual questions about the blog or what have you.

#battle backgrounds: The background art used as set pieces in combat in-game.

#inventory items: Full and mini sprites of any item you will find in your inventory.

#ui and related: Anything constructing the game's UI and menus.

#overworld sprites: Sprites found on the overworld, outside of combat.

#maps and tilesets: Any in-game maps and items that function as the game's overworld.

#battle sprites: Sprites found exclusively in combat. Excludes any battle backgrounds.

#moonscorched: Any moonscorched content.

#unused content: Any content that is found in the files, but not used in-game. Includes things like "beta" versions of designs.

#sprite edits: Whenever I post a sprite that I actively modified outside of cropping. I only modify content for informative reasons- such as comparing canon and non-canon content, or stuff between games.

#videos, #gifs, and the characters' names are all self explanatory.