#was john excited?

[pinkysberg]

i lie awake at night thinking about the marston daughter.

[discosmackdown]

never stab the devil in the back

[spitedemon]

i really don’t think it’s “typical dragon age fandom nonsense” for people to be genuinely upset about the world state choices. combat, level design, art direction, gameplay gimmicks, those have all varied across each dragon age game. the one thing that’s remained constant are nods to our previous choices.

i wasn’t expecting my HoF to come riding in on a griffon, but i can’t find a monument dedicated to warden tabris somewhere around the anderfels? lucanis couldn’t have some lines about the time that one arainai boy was stirring up trouble in antiva city? you’re gonna tell me that making a mage the new divine wouldn’t have some impact on nevarra and antiva? on the anderfels, the supposed most devout militant andrastian nation in thedas? you’re saying nobody in the north is paying attention to who rules orlais or ferelden? come on.

[samglyph]

So you want to make the decisions for once. Good luck with that.

Tip Jar

Bonus under the cut

[ccyanideapples]

Is slow dancing with your bro gay

[bluegiragi]

cockatrice (part 2)

early access + nsfw on patreon

--

werewolf lore drop ahead!!

although werewolves are classified as a shifter-type monster (same as Horangi or the cockatrice) they're actually unique in a hidden way. Horangi is a hybrid whose lineology originates from the first pureblood haetaes, which had zero human in them. In comparison, werewolves originated AS a human-wolf monster, which results in an interesting relationship between the human and shifted 'full-wolf' form.

While Horangi is the same in his human and haetae form, Soap juggles two souls in one body - one belonging to human side, and the other to his wolf. They are both still implicitly him - the souls run parallel with one another throughout his life - but being a werewolf is very much like maintaining a life-long partnership. Soap and his wolf are a great example of a success story, but some werewolves have difficult relationships with their wolf, resulting in only transforming during full moons when they have to.

In some ways, Soap is perfect in the military's eyes as he has a strong connection with his wolf, and happens to come from a long line of larger-than-average specimens (even though he doesn't care too much about his genealogy, preferring to call himself a mongrel breed). In other ways, he's also a nightmare, because his wolf exemplifies the worst in his rebellious streak, featuring recklessness, fickleness towards authority and an extremely low tolerance for boredom.

[vampir-el]

spot the difference

[abstractfrog]

SILVER BLAZE PART THREE - happy jonkday everyone. one of these days i'll draw a scene that doesn't take place at night

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[mangoshibi]

His favorite book ( part 1 ) brothers, am I right???

[reds-skull]

Can't believe I had to google "rare puns" for this comic

[rosalie-starfall]

The Not Ready For Prime Time Players

Saturday Night / Saturday Night Live October 11th 1975

[tojisun]

!! nsfw; threesome (the sex doesn’t happen tho LOL); shifting povs; sorta pt 02 of this

"do you feel nervous when i stare?" he asks.

it is a soft question, rumbled from the base of his throat tentatively as though not to spook you. still it makes you flinch, body locking on the bed as you shift your anxious eyes towards him.

john, he said when he introduced himself to you. call me john.

you were so enamoured at finally seeing him—you traced the way the skin around his eyes were wrinkled in his smile, or how the careful rise of his lips were hidden behind the tufts of his beard. you couldn’t even contain the bubbling feeling pooling in your heart, excitement and nervousness mixing in miasmic waves because there he was, just as kind as simon told you he would be. just as careful.

simon promised you that the most, after all.

("cap'n's soft," he murmured as he held your hand, his thumb swiping along the ridges of your knuckles. "he tries to deny it but we've all seen how he indulges."

he turned to you then, expression unreadable even in the absence of his mask. simon studied your face, searching for something, until he stopped—you wondered then if he found whatever it was he had been looking for—and brushed his knuckle against your cheek instead.

"y’ve got nothin’ to worry about." he met your gaze again. "he’d love you just as much.")

you never once doubted him, of course, but you’ve only ever been with simon. only ever had to be conscious of his gaze, only ever had to work for his desire—not that you needed to do much, or so simon tells you. 

you don’t know how to exist for someone that isn’t simon and his attentiveness—burning in the way he bears down onto you, pressing himself against your tender parts to devour your gasps and your whimpers. 

you don’t know how to be desirable for someone that isn’t simon.

but—

john looks at you like you’ve ignited the same fire that burns within simon’s eyes. it’s all so feverish, rippling in magnitudes, until the slow trickle engulfs you whole. it makes you squirm, feeling so constrained within your own body, like you need to be doing something more than sitting before john like a pretty prize.

too caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the familiar bearing presence beside you until a rough hand pinches your chin to make your head tilt up. you bite down on a choked gurgle of your surprise, trying your best not to react, but your efforts don’t matter much, anyway. not when trained eyes pick up at the tremors of your hands and at the way your breaths pass through in quiet wheezes.

simon locked gazes with his captain from the top of your head, but john only looks at him with the same small smile, the one that always spoke of how pleased he is. it makes simon turn to you, his own body thrumming with the muted press of his desires. 

“won’t you answer him, love?” he croons, pulling you from the depths of your thoughts—see, captain? aren’t i good?—and watches with nothing short of pride as you nod.

john devours the sight you and simon make with anticipation, pretending that his cock isn’t heavy from where it’s pressed on the inside of his thigh. 

he doesn’t even know how long he’s waited for this day; for the time when he finally gets you and simon both. all he knew was that the wait was torturous, tipping his desperation into its ragged course, forcing him to suppress his wants by burning through work with wild ferocity. not even his fist had been enough on the days when the need was yowling from his jowls. 

so when simon had finally stumbled into his office, his own body poised like a taut string, john realized what it was that he came to price for. 

he felt like a rabid dog that was told that he could bite; that he could sink his fangs into the soft parts of the flesh he caved so that he may feast. 

“yes,” you finally murmur, beautiful in your bashfulness, answering his question—do you feel nervous when i stare?—with honesty.

“y’r just.” you pause to lick at your lips. “y’r just so much more than what i thought.”

“oh?” john asks, intrigued. “and you don’t like that?”

“i do.”

simon and john watch as you clench your hands into fists, eyes ducking down again in your shyness. the tension is building, amping up heatedly, and they wonder if you’re even aware of what you do to them.

“i just don’t know how you’d like me.”

such a soft sentiment—you worry about how john would like you as if you haven’t been the fuel of his carnal dreams. as if he hadn’t stayed awake at night, holding himself in his fist as he imagined how you would sound when he’s taking you; how you would look when you’re at the precipice of your pleasure. would you cry? would you whimper? would you hold onto him as though that would ground you from the apex of your euphoria?

don’t you know? he’s saved every video that simon sent to him?

“y’ve got nothin’ to worry about, doll,” john grunts as he leans back against his seat.

he pats his lap. “c’mere an’ i’ll show you what you do to me.”

you clamber to your feet, stumbling over in your wobbling excitement. it’s endearing, how you’re just as much desperate for him as he is to you.

john tilts his head just enough to meet simon’s eyes, mirth building at ghost’s obedience. he’s been silent, watching, devouring the way you and john gravitated towards each other like a man starved. john knows what he must be waiting for.

he hums to himself as hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you to his lap, his other hand rising to cup at your cheek, desperate to touch you every way he can. still, there’s something else he wants to do. so he twists you just enough that your head is resting on his shoulder and tipped to the lone body on the bed with interest.

(simon knew it. you look absolutely heart-shattering with his captain.)

“you too boy,” john barks out, his heart lurching at simon’s full-body tremble. “don’t you want y’r reward?”

your fists grip the scruff of john’s shirt and he wonders, so choked up with his anticipation, if you haven’t seen simon like this. if simon was always the dominant one between you two; the one who always demanded things off you.

(oh but you have seen simon in his submission. gods, you have. and he was so beautiful then, whining to you as he humped his cock into the warm press of your walls, his face nuzzling the column of your neck as though that would muffle his pleasured hymns.

as though you couldn’t feel just how beautiful your perfect love is in the throes of his bliss, trembling, mewling. splintering, unable to force himself back into the mask of his indifference.)

you watch as simon rouses from the bed, slow like he is postured for his own hunt. it makes you ache, unable to discern exactly why all of you fit with each other, just that you do. you’re not even torn between who to bend over to—john had made sure you and simon knew it was him who will call the shots.

simon’s hand falls on the valley of your spine, caressing you, before he pitches forward, hovering before john.

it’s john who gives him the kiss—the reward, as sweet as eden.

and right there, as they lose themselves, you know nothing else could ever be as erotic as this.

me too, you want to say, i want one too. but they’re already shifting, muscles rippling, as they turn to you—a prey caught in between.

[noodles-and-tea]

Hi! Just wanted to let you know that every Tuesday I imagine Sherlock and Co as an animated series in your art style. I hope you're having a great day!

Delivered right to your ear every Tuesday!

[theworkerofkeay]

Let me guide you in your dreams 🌙

[iamlouisebringmethecheese]

i kept seeing art about a silly horror podcast man and i couldn't not start it.