#very chuffed about this

[parkercore-69]

LETS GO GUYS IM TEMPORARILY THE HEADER IMAGE FOR THE TROBED TAG !!

[the-lonelybarricade]

I don’t know if this has been pointed out before, but Mr. LB and I have been reading acowar and when we got to the point where it’s revealed that Nesta is Death / has death related powers, he immediately asked “does that mean Elain is supposed to be Life?”

It’s a juxtaposition I hadn’t thought about before, but the imagery seems so on the nose now that I think about Elain “the gentle grower of things” and her affinity for nature and sunlight

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Phil's/ Jamie's freckles on his chest! I've nothing profound to say about them but I love his little freckles on his chest and I feel like we all need to think about them more

Well, mission accomplished, sweet nonny, because I sure am thinking about them now! It's good. XD

And I'm don't even have any strong feelings on freckles in general? But these ones make such gorgerous and intriguing little lines, particlarly on his left pec and just under it, and it makes me think of constellations and how nice it'd be to trace them...

Mm. I'd like to imagine Keeley doing just that, actually. She's halfway draped over Jamie one evening in bed, idly running her finger over his chest, tracing the patterns as she and Jamie takes turns suggesting increasinly ridiculous names for the perceived shapes.

On Jamie's other side, leaning against the headboard with a book in his lap, Roy rolls his eyes (but fondly like) and mutters something about how being so obsessed with your own body that you name your fucking freckles is exactly the sort of shit he expects from Jamie.

”You're just jealous 'cause no one can see your freckles under that dead badger you've glued to your chest,” Jamie says smugly.

”Oi,” Keeley pokes him in the side, making him squeal a giggle with the way it tickles. ”Be nice to Roy. Or I'm calling this one 'flaccid aubergine'.”

”The fuck does that even mean?” Jamie complains, but there's no real whine in his voice, just as there was no real admonition in Keeley's, or real bite in Roy's.

”Means you should put that pretty mouth to better use and kiss me,” Keeley says, winking at Roy, and Jamie is never slow to oblige, is he? Once Keeley's had her kiss Jamie shifts slightly and reaches out to pull Roy in for one too, just for good measure, and then him and Keeley turn their attention back to the freckles.

(Roy eventually joins in, deliberatedly suggesting very, very dull names because he knows that this offends Jamie far more than any outragesly rude ones ever could.)

(Roy wouldn't ever, not even under pain of death, admit to the fact that he, too, finds it soothing to occasionally put his head on Jamie's shoulder and idly trace the freckles while Jamie pets his hair.)

(Neither Jamie nor Keeley ever calls him on it.)

[jackrussle]

Bitches be like "I hate new country" IM A RENEGADE REBEL WITH MY PEDAL TO THE FLOOR THESE BOYS DONT KNOW I AINT IN KANSAS ANYMORE 🗣🗣🗣🤺🤺👊👊👊💥💥📢📢📢📢 CUZ THE HIGHWAY TO HELL IS THE ROAD IM ON I NEED TO TURN AROUND BEFORE IM TOO FAR GONE 💥👊📢📢📢🗣🗣🗣🏇🏇🏇🏇

[gourmet-trash]

everyone has been so blessedly nice about my eldritch horror but also just a little guy mumbo fic (thank you if you're among them!!), but i don't think anything beats getting this fucking message from my friend who knows nothing about minecraft much less anything in that fucking story

adventurer eldritch horror harvey is just an incredible description of mumbo tbh. but also. because i think this is the fucking funniest part:

BRIAN WITH A G

[hella1975]

i have such a reputation that four separate people incorporated pringles into my birthday gifts. be that girl

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

How is a women’s sleeveless suit more dysphoric to wear than an actual dress??? How is it that I’m fully comfortable walking around in just a sports bra but sports bra over sleeveless suit is UNACCEPTABLE. Truly my gender feels like a black box I’m testing stimuli on WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS A PROBLEM???

[01tsubomi]

mfw i spent yeeeeears in college aaaaaagonizing about how to turn a short fanfic of mine into a full-length original work and was working on it with my professor and through all the editing became really embarrassed of the original fanfic version thinking it was immature and shallow but could also never make the rewrite work so i moved onto other projects and then today after a very long time reread both of them only to find that the original fic is concise and heartfelt with clunky execution but solid and gripping emotional beats and the novelization is overwritten self-obsessed garbo

[crazycatfaery]

Thought it was time to think of a queue pun. So hear me out:

Exequeuetive Dysfunction

[szappan]

having very amusing and elaborate daydreams all about bertie wooster getting his t shot

[bawnjourno]

.

[tracle0]

Heads down several across tag!

Thank you @scmalarky very cool I’ve not written anything in a long time 🙃

but! There are some things! I can share! Not quite seven lines but disappointment is a burden we must learn to endure.

-

There is nothing in their head to guide them out of the disapproving looks, and they hunch their shoulders, untangle their limbs, hope that maybe this time, this pair will act like normal people and understand their stance without them having to verbally explain it. The silence stretches. Clearly they are having no such luck, and they swallow awkwardly. “I was just going…” 

“To bed,” Nara suggests firmly. She is looking at Dannel. They can’t fully place her expression, but it almost seems smug. “Right now.”

“But -“

“And don’t let us hear another peep out of you until morning,” she adds. “Goodnight, Atlas.”

Not even the song can persuade them to argue against that tone. 

-

Cool that’s that. Lil. Short story of a younger Atlas. I wrote it last month maybe whilst on holiday.

Tagging uhhhhh god. @albatris @daisywords @polyaubergine @chauceryfairytales @joyful-soul-collector if you would like ?

[spacealiencafe]

purchased items for the Kitchen ™

[zehecatl]

unironically, the two games i'm most excited for from the triple I showcase is Undermine 2 and Cat Quest 3

like. the two games circa no one actually cares about. because of course that would be what i'd be interested it LMAO

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

--------------------

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

Alice in Wonderland except it’s a surreal political comedy. Alice gets moved to the backwater town of Wonder on a job assignment, realize she needs to run for local elected office to actually get anything done, and quirky local political traditions quickly spiral into “Wait so you people have your own monarchy which you still uphold to this day?”