#they are CONSENTING ADULTS

[firealder2005]

PUTTING THIS OUT THERE BECAUSE IF I CAN'T HAVE DINLUKE THEN HANLEIA MUST WIN

Round 3 - Bracket #2

[helplessv1ctim]

big brother who sweet talks me into doing dry humping because he’s been so lonely lately and that i have nothing to worry about because, technically, he’s not fucking me.

praising me so much that i don’t even notice that he’s sliding it in until he’s raw fucking me, moaning about how good it feels to finally fuck his sister

[onlinedolly]

i just think that loser dad!leon would be such a distant father, seeing you on holidays and an occasional weekend every few months.

loser dad!leon would tell you how grown your looking, how you look so much like your mom when she was a young adult.

loser dad!leon who drinks too much and forces you into a kiss when he’s drunk, next morning stumbling into your room crying about how he should’ve never done that!!!!

loser dad!leon who can’t even look you in the eyes since he kissed you, putting even more distance between himself and you.

loser dad!leon who gets drunk again, like he always does, and sneaks into your bed, feeling you up under your tank top.

loser dad!leon who’s a snotting, sobbing mess when you wake up, exclaiming that he doesn’t know why he’s like this. what has gotten into him, he’d say, seeking comfort in your arms like he wasn’t just pinching your nipples under your shirt.

loser dad!leon who in the lamest terms: fucking sucks. who will always seek your comfort after he’s done violating you in ways you don’t really think you mind *that* much. he’s not a good guy, he knows that, you know that, but he likes to pretend he is.

loser dad!leon who finally gets drunk enough to fuck himself in your cunt, sobbing and whispering how sorry he is in your ear as he splits you open on his dick. cumming in you and whispering ‘i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.’

loser dad!leon who loves you in such an unhealthy way that it eats him up with guilt, not so much so that he won’t do it again. fucking you over and over again, completely wasted until he finds the courage to take you when he’s sober.

[unlimitedbutchworks]

it will never stop being funny/sad seeing a different transmisogynistic transfem make this same tired ass post every other year and inevitably attract insane transmisogynists calling random trans women pedophiles and predatory in the notes for talking about consensual kink she enjoys with her lovers or whatever else, never makes it clearer that the point is transmisogyny and apologizing/making space for it because those people are always tolerated whereas trans women asking if someone reblogging from someone they don’t know is always a tacit show of universal support are blocked. it’s an intellectually dishonest misportrayal of what some transfems say (who is saying these things you’re claiming to are being ‘inherently linked to transfeminity’? is that what’s actually being said? what does this statement do if not just accuse a voiceless group of trans women of being pedophilic incestous Evils?) that directly likens many to apologizing for and normalizing pedophilia, playing off the readers bias to see trans women as predators despite the reality that this “normalization” is only really happening for cnc and incest rp kinks and barely at that. you’re not making it out of the pit

[trans-leek-cookie]

yknow what. I wanna say: CSA and COCSA survivors are all incredible, but I also wanna give a shout out to ppl who were exposed to sexual stuff or had any kind of sexual experience as a kid that they either aren't comfortable labelling as or don't consider abuse, but they know it still fucking sucked and shouldnt have happened. Even if that changes later in life and you identify as a victim/surivor, it can be messy to have to imagine those labels applying to the ppl in ur life and that can take time.

The most important thing is to prioritize your recovery + health, and to support other victims + survivors.

[canid-thing]

wanna make out with a boy while we're all roughed up and bleeding from fistfighting

i mean what who said that

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What are your favorite ships in Animorphs? Both canon and non-canon

Man, I think it'd be easier to list the things I don't ship. The within-team dynamics are so intricate and well-written that basically any combo can be made to work. I'm a big fan of the rarepair combo of Rachel/Cassie, Tobias/Marco, and Jake/Ax, but canon makes a strong case for Rachel/Tobias and Jake/Cassie. If we're including minor characters, I've enjoyed writing Rachel/Melissa, Ax/Menderash, Marco/Collette, and Melissa/Tom; I keep meaning to write Marco/Tom, Melissa/Tobias, and James/Jake. Even Tobias/Taylor could make a great horror story if someone felt like writing it.

If we loop in the older generation, then my favorite rarepair is Loren/Chapman. But I've also written Naomi/Loren, Eva/Loren, Eva/Peter, Elfangor/Loren, and Alloran/Jahar; I'm always meaning to write Peter/Elfangor, Elfangor/Arbron, and Michelle/Loren/Walter.

I guess the only things I don't ship are incest (off-putting) and ships that include controllers (consent issues). But like, even then I could probably be convinced by dark crack fic about Visser Three and Visser One hatebanging.

[punkisnthere]

sending telekinetic brainwaves to my boyfriend convincing him to make out with me sending telekinetic brainwaves to my boyfriend convincing him to make out with me sending t

[jennydolfen]

The two absolute sweetest. <3 Happy Pride!

[onlinedolly]

corrupt cop leon with his much younger girlfriend; pretty and pliable as he keeps her high n hazy on copious amounts of drugs !!!!!!!! leon who is never nice to you, pushing you around, pressing on your tummy with a full bladder, laughing at you when you whimper and get shy when he wants you to call him dad !!!!!!

“i’m all you ever need, you know that, stupid girl.” he’d say when you were nodding out, too high and at your most pliable.

you adored him, crawled all over him and clung to him even when he’d push you off roughly into the floor. you were a dumb foolish girl and he was the meanest man you’d ever met and you loved him and the drugs he fed you. (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡

[transkholins]

it is not looking good for syladin disliker nation i fear

[sk1ttlecookie]

Dude song

Imagine Saya No Uta but with Nottim and P1 Dude and w/o the lolibait shit..... peak writing

Also idk if someone did this before so, yeah

Original screenshot:

Andy finally posting something else than Hatred two thousand fifthteen yaya enjoy!!

[spirits-n-giggles]

Just in time for Halloweener!!!! 🎃 🕸 🪲

Aren't they precious? 🌹🥀💮

I was originally going to draw her in the black dress at the beginning of the 2nd movie, but she just always looks so damn good in red! 😍

I believe her husband agrees. 👍

I had waaaaaay too much fun with this, and it just made me wanna sit down and study how the hell to draw BJ's face correctly - this was a good start.

This fandom is so great! (What are fans called these days, Juiceboxes? Lol) I love you Beetlebabes! ❤️

[firesofdainix]

The age gap is NOT the worst thing about Billford

[eldest-of-katts]

okay because people have shown up in my dms talking smack I'm going to make one blanket statement on the 1000 year loli chilchuck thing.

yes, there has been a problem with young girls being put in suggestive positions in anime with the "uhmmm she's actually a bajillion years old" excuse. yes, other characters don't treat chilchuck like an adult. yes, he is short with big eyes.

However, chilchuck consistently acts like a grown man. he- in both the manga and the anime- straight up just is an adult. He looks like an adult when he is any other race during the swaps in the manga. When the other characters get turned into half-foots they look similar to chilchuck. He is explicitly stated to have more dungeon and general life experience than laios, and he acts like it.

The 1000 year loli trope explicitly functions as an excuse to prey on people who are inexperienced and unable to advocate for themselves. Chilchuck is a parent, is a union organizer, has explicit boundaries that he enforces rigidly, and he is treated as an adult man by everyone who doesn't have a fantasy racism-focused character arc/issue.

I can see how if you haven't read the manga and seen that he has an established life that he later reveals (and haven't paid attention to him in the anime lol) you could get a mistaken impression about him. Marcielle does too in the source material! It's part of her character at the start of her arc that she has issues with longevity!

The thing that irks me a little about this interpretation is that it leans into the child-coded discourse that was prominent a while ago (she's short!!!!! but has boob???? ILLEGAL!!1!) and it does a disservice to the themes of infantilization as a policy maneuver hurting the working class.

I saw chilchuck and his labor advocacy for half-foots both as a metaphor for racism (obvious take ik) and for ageism.

The working gen z as a cohort are being infantilized and pushed out of job markets due to infantilization, similar to half-foots in the show. gen z is being maliciously portrayed as too young to vote, enter office, know themselves, know their rights, and take advantage of their resources. Simultaneously, child labor protections and protections against workplace abuse are being rolled back in the US. In Japan, young people are being worked to the bone for nothing and are becoming disenfranchised as a generation while simultaneously expected to be the labor faction that supports the postwar generations in their old age.

Chilchuck's being treated poorly I saw as a clever commentary on the ways infantilization allows for protections to be stripped away under the guise that "oh it's just a job for teenagers- they don't need more than minimum wage" or "let the kids rescue the economy! they're always complaining about that job market!" while simultaneously stripping away rights under the guise of protection- "We can't have that on the internet! think of the children!" "to protect these young people we must raise the age of medical consent for hormones/reproductive health decisions!"

Kui's work with this series spoke to me on many levels, and specifically, the infantilization issue touched me in a way that few other pieces of media have. The struggle to be taken seriously in a stem field as someone young, as someone female, and as someone who had a high-pitched voice to the point I did years of voice training to be taken seriously, chilchuck's character resonated. I (kinda) understand your instinct to think "SHORT! CHILD! RALLY THE MASSES AND KILL THE PEDOS!!1!" but in this case, it's misdirected- mostly because the author was trying to use this misdirection to prove something to you, the reader.

Kui consistently makes cutting commentary on modern issues, the show's take on food neutrality as its headliner, but also the author's takes on cultural issues and the environment (with a focus on our place in the food web as animals). I feel that reducing chilchuck's very conscious position as a tradesman and an activist discounted due to his apparent age down to "1000 year loli ewwww let's send this random tumblr user suicide bait" just displays a lack of critical analysis of the show and a level of disrespect towards Kui and the work as a whole.

TL:DR- stop sending me kys messages I'm fucking that old man