#((yes!))

[dropoutconfessions]

Re - the confession about Kristen from a couple days ago. I really don't think that choosing the name of yes was intended by Ally to be a silly moment!! Go back and watch it!!! There's thought there!! I think Ally is using "an enthusiastic yes" as a metaphor. It was Brennan that made it into a silly goofy thing.

yeah i definitely do recall that being a "season finale, 5am in a warehouse" moment akin to sophia's mom becoming mrs. claus

[miss-jaye]

cw: slightly suggestive! aizawa seeing his wife in literally anything gives you the same reaction: awe, admiration, love and lust.

he still can’t believe he landed someone as beautiful as you. so when you walk into the house in a beautiful, blue floral sundress? someone might need to give him cpr—this man is on the verge of a heart attack from how stunning you are.

"honey, i'm home~" you giggle, slipping off your shoes and entering the living room, knowing your dark-haired husband is there. "hi shouta~" you give him a radiant smile and lean down to kiss his cheek.

he swallows hard. "where…" his voice is rough. "hm?" you tilt your head. he stands up, closing the distance between you, and slides his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. "where did you…" aizawa trails off, admiring the dress on you.

"oh, this?" you glance down at the dress, then smile and rest your hands on his chest, looking up at him again. "it was a gift from a friend! she ordered it online, but it was the wrong size. instead of returning it, she gave it to me as an early birthday present!" you explain.

he nods, absorbing your words. "that was nice of her…" he mutters, his thumb caressing your waist through the fabric. "it really was~!" you agree, nodding along, unaware that all he’s thinking about is how much he wants to tear that dress off of you. his fingers tighten slightly on your waist, pulling you even closer.

"shouta…?" you notice the shift in his demeanor, the way his eyes have darkened with something more intense. "is everything okay?"

he doesn't answer right away, his gaze fixed on you, taking in every detail—the way the dress flows down your body, the softness of your skin, the way your eyes sparkle as you look up at him.

"you’re just… perfect." aizawa murmurs, his voice low and rough.

you blush at his words, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you playfully swat his chest. "oh my love, you're such a flatterer." you tease.

he leans in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "not flattery, just the truth."

before you can respond, he captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all the love and desire he feels for you into it. as the kiss deepens, his hands start to wander, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tracing the curves of your body.

you melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back just as passionately.

finally, when you pull back for air, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing heavily, hearts pounding. "i love you, shouta," you whisper, your voice full of emotion.

he smiles, his eyes softening as he gazes down at you. "i love you too. so much."

aizawa kisses you again, slower this time, savoring the moment. when he pulls away, he looks at you with a small grin, "i think it's about time we take that dress off of you."

you laugh and shake your head. "shouta, you’re insatiable."

"only for you."

[canisalbus]

machete in a cottage by the sea outfit away from the vatican preferably

.

[dawnbreakerluna]

NOT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU (W. SYLUS QIN) wc. 1050. hurt/comfort. reader is the mc and experiences a panic attack. canon compliant to the l&ds story, no spoilers. character study-ish on the mental state of the mc. sylus is perceptive person and sees through the reader. non-established relationship. not proofread. side note: my writing program crashed after i pasted it to the tumblr draft. lol!

‘Does any of it matter anymore?’

You write those words in a pocket-sized journal every night. The very same one that’s tucked away in your drawer where an assortment of lingerie overfills and molds within one another. You have to do something, anything, to keep your body aware of its movement, its functionality and life.

Does any of it matter anymore?

You almost want to reach out to Zayne about it. To talk. To explain this stream of endless thoughts and the endless void of questioning your worth. Things haven’t been easy, to the point where you wonder if taking the Hunter Exam, valuing your worth on whether or not you passed, was worth it in the end. Not after everything you’ve found out. Not after everything you’ve witnessed and lost.

Now, you had bargained your life. A bold, risky step that required more trust than you could ever ask for. (You got it, regardless. You had nothing to fear in that aspect.)

“Does any of it matter anymore…?”

You ask yourself again, your voice a low whisper. You needed to make sure you were here, still. Some way, somehow. You were now shrouded by a blaring red sky and even darker red moon. Your gaze, holding faux grit, stares into a crimson gaze that looks over your sunken, kneeling form.

He wears a light curl of a smirk, lowering himself to you: “You should speak up, little Hunter. I can’t quite hear you.”

You push down that growing dread in an empty chest. But if it were empty, your heart wouldn’t be housed there, beating ferociously as you were face to face with the one who had answers you needed. If not all, at least some. The ones to point you in the right direction.

You call it going away in your own head—it’s what you do when you feel more than just your heart on the verge of giving out. It’s what you do when your fingers begin to twitch and tremble, your words struggling to come out. You don’t consider it freezing up completely, but a different sensation.

It’s just something you always dealt with on your own, always aware of.

The gentle flick of your fingers at your side gauges your knowledge of it happening again. Surrounded by desperate brokers and merchants; people with vile intentions and greed that isn’t a homely territory back in Linkon City.

You’re reminded why Onichynus thrives. Why Sylus wears the success and pride he does.

Despite his teachings intending to help you hold that same pride, you can’t. You realize too late in this room full of people who could eat you alive, you bit off more than you could chew. You remain by Sylus’ side as he indulges in the meaningless chatter of those who throw themselves at him with wretched desperation—but the room is beginning to feel hazy.

You know you should’ve arranged something. Some kind of signal to let him know you needed a breather.

This was more than a breather you needed. This was an emergency where you’re a glass sculpture, waiting and begging to be knocked over. You hated being made of glass, regrettably—hated being ogled at in that way. You feel it in the worst form now, being the guest of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone.

Your arm, securely wrapped around his bigger one, shifts back just slightly to tug at his sleeve. It’s not an obvious action, not even to the keen eye like yourself. But it’s enough that you feel the slight jerk, that startles him. To Sylus, this would be a disturbance as little of a fly on someone’s shoulder.

Yet, the air between you two shifts.

Sylus holds a hand up to the two men standing before you both, “Ah—you’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I just recalled that I am to assist the security detail with an issue. Please, do enjoy the rest of the evening.”

He leads you away without another word, brushing off the guests.

Vultures. Vultures. Vultures. Every single one of them.

You hold your breath in a subtle manner, your throat constricted. Sylus’ movement is swift and urgent at once, heading towards the back of the ballroom. He opens one of the double doors, ushering you out first before following closely.

It’s just you two now, in this empty, grandeur hall.

You felt sick. You wanted to die. You wanted every fiber of anguish to leave you be and never come back. You never wanted to feel anything again. You wanted to rip your heart out and burn it, to bleed out to death by its side—

—Does any of it matter anymore?

“Little Hunter,” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through your clogged mind. His hand comes forward, knuckles gently brushing against your cheek, catching stray tears that roll down, “Just focus on me. You’re alright now.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen, your faint breath an overwhelming echo in your head as you come back to yourself. Never before had you seen his eyes so… fond. Gentle. Comforting. It makes you feel sick. You feel the need to lurch and throw up everything you’ve eaten.

Instead, your tears thicken. You blink a few times before lowering your head, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as you pant heavily. Clawing through your throat is a string of sobs, your body tensing along with it.

Sylus reacts with instinct, his voice lowered as he gently shushed you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing you into his strong torso. To hide you away from the world, to delicately hold your sorrows.

“You’re alright, Little Hunter.” He whispers into the top of your head, lips brushing softly against your hair, “I feel your shame, there’s no need to carry such a thing. I’m not upset.”

You hiccup, pulling away just enough to tilt your head back—looking up at him: “You’re… not?”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. His fingers gently tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, offering you the most warmth he possibly can in this moment. Unfamiliar, but not unappreciated. You’re more grateful than anything, in spite of everything you two had rough edges about.

“Never,” he assures you with a smile. “Not when it comes to you.”

[ctlyrt]

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD and FLORENCE PUGH

at the Toronto International Film Festival 2024 for "WE LIVE IN TIME".

(X)

[koifsssh]

everything holds beauty, no wonder he tends to stare!

[mazey-phaedra-enjoyer]

i love kristen applebees so much because with most dnd pc's if you said they'd "killed a god" you would go "woah they're so powerful to be able to fight and win against a god!" on the other hand you have kristen who has managed to kill 1 to 3 gods (depending on if you're counting yes! and yes? as seperate and who knows what's going on with cassandra's "being alive" status) solely by being bad at time management and comitment issues. oh your character spent a whole campaign working with their party to build the strength to kill a god in combat? well she did it by literally just having adhd SHE'S TOO POWERFUL

[barryroyco]

the funniest part of this is that nobody said it was gay he just implied it himself that wasn’t even what was asked

[mcnyoom]

So I am going to ramble some more about my Oscar goes apeshit in Baku predictions because it has grabbed my by the lapels and shaken me around.

So we start with Hungary. First win, big win, this is awesome, but he seems generally unenthusiastic. Haha, we all say, typical unemotional Oscar. Boo, the media says, you should have prioritized Lando, that’s not a real win because team orders.

And then we have spa. Solid, p3 that became p2, but —a theme that will develop— unrealized potential with Oscar chasing someone down and not quite making it on the last laps. Will-he-won’t-he, and it seems he won’t. He’s clearly not pleased in post race debriefs.

Zandvoort. Everyone knows the McLaren is the fastest car by this point, and Lando has the race of his life. A 20 second gap to second, and Oscar spends most of the race chasing Leclerc for third, so close but yet so far. Another race ended by chasing someone down and not quite making it. Media calls it a SPECTACULAR drive by Lando (it was!) and overall a disappointing weekend for Oscar, who at this point is probably gnashing his teeth off camera somewhere.

And so we come to Monza!! This weekend is Oscar throwing his elbows out in a big way. He’s making a statement, and the statement is fuck your team orders, fuck being “second driver” and fuck this narrative of Oscar being the guy who can’t quite pull it off. Except, yet again, he doesn’t quite pull it off and is stuck, yet again, behind Charles Leclerc. In the cooldown room after, when he says to Leclerc “I didn’t think you’d make it to the end, or I did but I thought you’d be slower” what he’s actually saying is “how the fuck did you do that, you fucking bastard”. Points for self restraint, but you can see in post race interviews he’s pissed.

This is Oscar, so there’s still calculation here: when he’s mean about Lance to the media afterwards? It’s funny, but also, he’s trial running a much sharper persona than we’ve seen so far. I’ve described it in tags before as heading in an Alonso direction — he doesn’t mind having a little villain arc!

The problem with Monza is he didn’t win. Gauntlets thrown, papaya rules in the wind, and he’s still only p2. That’s frustrating (and possibly embarrassing) in a big way, especially in light of people who still say his first win was gifted. So now we have an Oscar that’s getting more comfortable being the bad guy, doing dramatic bold things to get what he wants, and he still hasn’t quite got it.

So I think he’s gonna go fucking insane in Baku.

[imagine-sterek]

Imagine stiles is a famous singer and Derek is his bodyguard and during every show when stile sings a specific love song he sits down on the edge of the stage and drapes his legs over Derek’s shoulders. And Derek looks annoyed but he just stands there like it’s nothing. And fans love it and they want stiles and Derek to be together but no one knows that stiles and Derek have been married for a while and are just keeping it private.

[canisalbus]

about the painting ask you mentioned how machete is camera shy but Vasco has commissioned portraits of himself

What if the portrait has some nod to machete in it? Like a giant white moon in the background or some fine red wine and a cured pigs leg resting upon the pelt of a white animal or a flourishing bush of roses that overpower the canvas whilst still being so gentle

Or even more subtle a black,red and white rosary wrapped around vascos hands

.

[thesargasmicgoddess]

Ephemeral Moments...

Thank you, everyone, for your kind messages during a rough week. I truly appreciate the support and love ❤️❤️

[touchstiel]

EVERY TOUCH EVER ☞ 137/?

13.14 Good Intentions

[himitsusentaiblog]

GO GO, GODZILLA!

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD and FLORENCE PUGH

bi panic at the Toronto International Film Festival 2024