#<- prev absolutely

[space-feminist]

ID: tweet from @/bocxtop reading "the early 2000s were so homophobic if u wore jeans that fit they started calling u metrosexual. end ID.

just saw a “period typical homophobia” tag on a fic set in the early 2000s and like…you arent wrong but jesus things changed fast huh

[stellewriites]

it's cold and it’s almost winter here which means i'm thinking about the 141 boys wrapping up warm while they're on leave back in the uk.

specifically im thinking about how each of them already have statement headwear (except soap), so its easy to imagine what they might swap to; thick beanie for price like we've seen before, ghost probably has a thicker balaclava meant for snowboarding to keep out the chill, and gaz would stay inside in his flat - warm and cosy because why the fuck would he venture out when it's snowing? - his cap firmly still in place on his head, blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders.

soap though? close knit family like his, there's no way he's not been given a handmade hat each year when he visits his gran. and given how naturally johnny mactavish can fall into being a little shit in any given situation, there's not a chance it's not learnt behaviour passed down from generations before, so i think his gran would have fun with her knitting.

which brings me to johnny's hat the year after he shaved in his mohawk:

i think she'll have made the one on the right after he talked a little too fondly about a teammate that kept a skull mask on at all times;

"does he wan' a hat, y'think? it's nae problem, i can make an extra for y'ta take along with ye when you're called off again. still be cold when yer back in a month's time."

"nah, gran, thank ye. the dafty ne'er takes his mask off fer it to be worth yer effort."

"ne'er? he ugly or sum'thin'?"

"wears a big ugly skull on th'front so ah don't think lookin' braw s'his concern."

"hm, tha' so? nae bother then. i'll just knit yers."

[lemonlurkrr]

Scans of a zine thing I made for school last year about vampires :) <33

And it all folded up n schtuff

[gatoburr0]

I couldn’t stop thinking about this. Gueeltar by @certifiedl0sr

Didn’t know that stupid shit like this was so fun to draw

[havenotwillnotreadthebooks]

“You claim to have slain a giant, and yet you stand on its shoulders and think yourself tall!” What a damn sentence

Thingol's Quenya ban gets 1000x funnier once you realize that a lot of older Quenya names are translated to Sindarin with a thorn sound instead of a ssss sound (Sorontar = Thorondor,  Singollo = Thingol, etc.). Great job, Thingol! You went to the trouble of banning a language, but your own name has Fëanorian Quenya elements! You claim to have slain a giant, and yet you stand on its shoulders and think yourself tall!

[kaanbaltlak]

So, I did it! Finally wrote the first chap of my Bowuigi Mario Kart AU! Excited, as I expect being able to finish this fic!

As a bonus, I did this drawing of one of the chap's scenes. Luigi doesn't know Bowser wants to rail him so bad!

My fic in question: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46861315/chapters/118040329 (it's in Spanish btw since it's my native language, jejox)

[lovesickeros]

☆ from gold, i am undone

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts {☆} word count 0.9k

You weren't meant to be here.

You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.

You are changed, and you are whole.

But you are so unbearably broken.

A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.

Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.

All you see is a monster.

Something new, something old.

A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.

But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.

You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.

But you know it will not satisfy you.

Nothing does anymore.

You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.

And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.

There is nothing left but absolute authority.

You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?

Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.

Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.

You welcome it.

It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.

Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.

You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.

For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?

Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?

Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?

Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.

For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.

[ingravinoveritas]

That picture of Michael and Tom Hardy...

So I just had to share some more thoughts regarding this picture of Michael and Tom Hardy from the Oliviers in 2004, because there is so much happening here...

This was right after Michael and Kate had broken up, and he was quoted at the time as saying that he was back into dating. I keep thinking about the "and friend" description for Tom Hardy on Getty Images and how that phrase is doing all kinds of work. Given the closeness and the pull between them in this pic, "friend" feels about one step away from "business associate" here, as both terms (and other similar ones) have historically served as coded euphemisms for a same-sex relationship.

What I really love is how much this flies in the face of the "Michael's never publicly been with a man" argument that's been used to dismiss and erase his bisexuality. I know some might say that they didn't "label" whatever this was, so how could you say that they were together...but that's kind of the entire point. That Michael didn't think twice about showing up to an event with a man or how it would look and just let whatever...this was be what it was.

It also speaks to the (what should be common knowledge, but somehow isn't) idea that "official" public relationships listed on Wikipedia are not the only ones that a person has or can have. Those relationships/situationships/FWBs/hookups/whatever you want to call them can happen at any point in time, whether we know about them or not. And when you factor in Michael repeatedly talking about his attractions to men and Tom saying that "I'm actor, of course I have" in reference to having sex with men, it further augments the possibility that something could have happened between them.

As I said in my previous post, I have no idea how I didn't stumble across this picture before now, but I just find it so endlessly intriguing. I'd love to hear what other folks think, though, so feel free to chime in...

[willgrahamscock]

Do you love me even tho I voted will 😔

I’m sorry king they hate your cock 😔

[changdol]

Haknyeon ❤️ DAZED Behind

[muirneach]

you get far enough into tennis and you start thinking real hard about random coaches. and that’s how you know you’re gone

[bottle-of-allay]

Xb! He's got a discord status that's "I'm so good at this game!" and i say that both ironically and when i make a difficult parkour jump

[emry-stars-oc]

New oc with a new sketchbook spread!

Another bodyguard character, this time for Quinton! Meet Mercer Chantry ⚔️

Q and Mercer aren’t as close as Bo and Ambrose, but they’re still good buds. He and his sister live in Bylldewn castle with the rest, and things may start out rocky with a misunderstanding between him and the Beldans (Bo, Ambrose, Betony) but once it’s ironed out he and Ambrose make a TERRIFYING great team. Anyway I love him v much

[stellewriites]

no thoughts, just grabbing butch!soap by her stupid little haircut (affectionate) and tugging on it casually 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

it doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, if you give her a little playful yank, close to the root so it bites, she’s on you like white on rice

her hands are suddenly tugging at your shirt, pawing at your jeans even as you slap them away; her eyes are unseeing with how glazed over they’ve gone, almost staring through your tits but with the way she licks her lips you know she’s just concentrating; she’s rutting against your hip like an excited dog and she pants in your ear, begging you to let her have ye,

“i know ye want it as bad as i do, bonnie, please. ah’ll make it so good f’ya, ah know you did it on purpose.”

[uldren-sov]

Some Chapter 4 Heinrix romance scene spoilers under the cut!

With some lines that I've never actually seen before???

This is what you get for falling for a crime lord who lived in spite of, rather than for, the Imperium

Pretty standard so far, right?

Hey Heinrix she just wants to talk. Hey Heinrix what do you MEAN this is finite, don't you understand what's happening here??? Can you not understand how you can inspire a kind of love and devotion (previously unheard of) that doesn't warrant an end?

Anyways here's the start of the new part that I haven't seen before.

Do I want it?

The option to lay out the thought that duty is still a choice that he is making and for once in his life maybe he can think about himself as a part of that equation.

And I don't know what was more surprising, the idea that she told him flat out there is more to life than just his work...

Or the fact that he actually considered it and is recognizing not only that his own thoughts and feelings matter but also the ways that the Imperium has wronged him as well.

The rest is typical in the narrative sense but just as groundbreaking for my von valancius (even if being up front about her thoughts and feelings, even when they're contrary to his, isn't necessarily new)

[posallys]

I just talked to one of my profs (I love him) and he compared me to a student of his that started her phd at MIT in microbiology this year (I love him) every time I talk to this man I come out feeling like I just had a hype session (I love him) he's gonna write me a baller rec letter (I love him)