#And you of course

[hippolotamus]

✨💖Positivity chain! List 5 to 10 things that make you smile and explain why! Then send this to others to let them know they make you smile✨💖

Hello, dear Spots 💞

💜 getting older and learning to coexist with the parts of me I don’t care for all that much

🖤 knowing I’ve got pocket pals I can still talk to no matter which way the Ships are going

🩶 a nearby yard has this purple Christmas hippo decoration (with a lil hat and scarf! ����) that I absolutely adore

🤍 naps and snuggles with a cat. nothing better (unless there’s also rain 🌧️) 😌

🤎 Cal taunting Buck 🐉

[danlous]

Ignoring the real possibility he intentionally let himself be caught from the little we know so far Luigi Mangione's case is a fascinating combination of astonishing brilliance and confusing stupidity. This young man plans and executes his assassination and escape with such a meticulous care and calmness that it's suspected that he's a professional hitman. He comes up with Riddler-sque moves like writing his manifesto poetically on the bullets and leaving his backpack behind full of Monopoly money. He carefully wears a mask to avoid being identified but removes it because a woman who was checking him into the hostel was flirting with him and wanted to see his smile. He still manages to escape the most surveilled city in the country in the midst of ongoing national manhunt only to get caught in the middle of bumfuck nowhere Pennsylvania while eating at the McDonalds. Because for some reason he had the same clothes and mask as in New York and was carrying the same gun and suppressor. And when the cops detained him he showed them the same fake id he used in New York. And oh yeah he's a frat bro gym rat who has a masters degree in computer science from Penn but reads stupid self-help books about being on the grind and is 'anti-woke' while being bisexual suffering from anxiety and wanting to end oppressive capitalism. Not even god himself could invent a person like this

[some-pers0n]

I hate how people will look at popular indie artists who had one or two songs go viral on TikTok and start making fun of anybody who listens to them. "Oh you listen to Lemon Demon, Will Wood, Jack Stauber, Glass Animals, and Mother Mother? Tsk, don't you know that is stupid TikTok neurodivergent white transmasc preteen music? It's so mid and bad you should listen to real music–" you are a pit of misery

[3liza]

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/theyre-not-human-how-19th-century-inuit-coped-with-a-real-life-invasion-of-the-walking-dead

Indigenous groups across the Americas had all encountered Europeans differently. But where other coastal groups such as the Haida or the Mi’kmaq had met white men who were well-fed and well-dressed, the Inuit frequently encountered their future colonizers as small parties on the edge of death.

“I’m sure it terrified people,” said Eber, 91, speaking to the National Post by phone from her Toronto home.

And it’s why, as many as six generations after the events of the Franklin Expedition, Eber was meeting Inuit still raised on stories of the two giant ships that came to the Arctic and discharged columns of death onto the ice.

Inuit nomads had come across streams of men that “didn’t seem to be right.” Maddened by scurvy, botulism or desperation, they were raving in a language the Inuit couldn’t understand. In one case, hunters came across two Franklin Expedition survivors who had been sleeping for days in the hollowed-out corpses of seals.

“They were unrecognizable they were so dirty,” Lena Kingmiatook, a resident of Taloyoak, told Eber.

Mark Tootiak, a stepson of Nicholas Qayutinuaq, related a story to Eber of a group of Inuit who had an early encounter with a small and “hairy” group of Franklin Expedition men evacuating south.

“Later … these Inuit heard that people had seen more white people, a lot more white people, dying,” he said. “They were seen carrying human meat.”

Even Eber’s translator, the late Tommy Anguttitauruq, recounted a goose hunting trip in which he had stumbled upon a Franklin Expedition skeleton still carrying a clay pipe.

By 1850, coves and beaches around King William Island were littered with the disturbing remnants of their advance: Scraps of clothing and camps still littered with their dead occupants. Decades later, researchers would confirm the Inuit accounts of cannibalism when they found bleached human bones with their flesh hacked clean.

“I’ve never in all my life seen any kind of spirit — I’ve heard the sounds they make, but I’ve never seen them with my own eyes,” said the old man who had gone out to investigate the Franklin survivors who had straggled into his camp that day on King William Island.

The figures’ skin was cold but it was not “cold as a fish,” concluded the man. Therefore, he reasoned, they were probably alive.

“They were beings but not Inuit,” he said, according to the account by shaman Nicholas Qayutinuaq.

The figures were too weak to be dangerous, so Inuit women tried to comfort the strangers by inviting them into their igloo.

But close contact only increased their alienness: The men were timid, untalkative and — despite their obvious starvation — they refused to eat.

The men spit out pieces of cooked seal offered to them. They rejected offers of soup. They grabbed jealous hold of their belongings when the Inuit offered to trade.

When the Inuit men returned to the camp from their hunt, they constructed an igloo for the strangers, built them a fire and even outfitted the shelter with three whole seals.

Then, after the white men had gone to sleep, the Inuit quickly packed up their belongings and fled by moonlight.

Whether the pale-skinned visitors were qallunaat or “Indians” — the group determined that staying too long around these “strange people” with iron knives could get them all killed.

“That night they got all their belongings together and took off towards the southwest,” Qayutinuaq told Dorothy Eber.

But the true horror of the encounter wouldn’t be revealed until several months later.

The Inuit had left in such a hurry that they had abandoned several belongings. When a small party went back to the camp to retrieve them, they found an igloo filled with corpses.

The seals were untouched. Instead, the men had eaten each other.

[kenapiece-main]

Can you believe I'm having to make this meme even after successfully finishing up taxes and applying to job

[mythtakens]

“these characters should be mentally healthy before they get together 😌” ummm no I actually think we should smash their mental illnesses together like clumps of play-doh and see what colors it makes

[great-and-small]

Apparently the local university’s undergraduate entomology course sends students to catch insect specimens at the same place I like to go birdwatching, which explains why I saw three enormous frat looking dudes with tiny bug nets and overheard one emphatically say “bro BRO I told you we already have enough lepidopterans”

[problemnyatic]

the steven universe hate is insane bc people are (or at least were) more upset that fictional war criminals got fictional hugs than they recognize that it singlehandedly advanced queer rep in children's media by lightyears and then straight up ate heavy retaliation for the nerve.

It does have real flaws that are worth discussing, but it also put their male protagonist in dresses and skirts and played it straight and even empowering, they aired a lesbian wedding on television, it was a genuinely queer, genuinely diverse piece of media through and through. It did a lot of real good for the real world.

But also the fictional characters caused fictional harm to other fictional characters, and didn't get an onscreen firing squad sentence. So, you know, it's basically ontologically evil in real life.

[shoomlah]

I have a feeling that beneath the little halo on your noble head There lies a thought or two the devil might be interested to know You're like the finish of a novel that I'll finally have to take to bed You fascinate me so

You Fascinate Me So, Blossom Dearie

[inkskinned]

she's singing in another room and my dog is asleep at my feet. my grandma asked me why i haven't found a man yet and i laughed. oh, you know. i like my house clean.

my girlfriend is also my man is also "my partner" if i'm in a professional setting. yesterday we went to a ren faire and a man mimed at me - you're together? and at my delighted nod, his baffled, you're gay? made me laugh. a woman with rainbow hair said i love the two of you together. you're both so beautiful it's absurd.

my dad introduced my partner as my "..... friend. or whatever" the other day. he knows we're dating. in the same way, i was never able to get my sister's husband to stop saying that's gay like it's 2008. he still uses the word fa***t, and my sister's defense of him has always been well, he's just kidding.

my lover and i dance to old music in a tiny kitchen. we judge new music together and take food critique very seriously. we watch love is blind before we fall asleep and agree that if they had a queer season, it would be bloody but also make for excellent tv. of fucking course queer people would know someone for only 2 weeks and agree to get married. what are you saying.

at a bar with friends, a man puts his hand on my wrist. got a boyfriend? and yes, i do have a boyfriend, she's amazing. i am texting her while i wander around a gas station named after geese. i am visiting a swing state for a wedding. in the candy aisle i overhear: she's actually like a lesbian it's disgusting. two teenage girls with packaged sandwiches in their hands, giggling. no literally, like. i'm not, like. okay with her being there while we're all, like, naked and changing.

my girlfriend and i tailgate, drink gin and cider out of cups. from the frat group beside us, a man corrects himself with one of his friends: bro, i mean, nonbinary entity, and it makes everyone around him laugh, myself included. he razzes his friend the same way i would have killed for at 19 years old - like nothing happened, he continues: you apply sunscreen like an alien. he does a little sassy (and fairly accurate) dance interpretation of the motion. his friend is laughing so hard they're crying.

i am lucky, i live in a safe neighborhood in a safe state. my masc passenger princess comes up from DC. i drive her for an hour to where all the leaves are a violent arrangement of color. we walk along the trails, letting autumn into our blood. in this part of the state, there's a lot of pickup trucks and trump signs. when we chastely kiss before getting into the car, i accidentally make eye contact with a woman holding her child's wrist. she looks disgusted. she looks fucking pissed.

two hours later my girl and i are eating dinner on a patio, soaking in the last warmth of new england sun before the chill of winter sets in. we are giggling and trying to talk through plastic vampire teeth. at another table, i see a young woman sit up straighter. i watch her watch us. she blushes and takes her partner's hand from across the table. shy, like the taste of evening has just become something deeper.

it's worth it for this moment, i think. my lover is still humming the same song she's been singing for four days straight and i don't want to kill her for it. her guitar is beside my bed. her toothbrush is in my bathroom. in a few moments i will make us lunch. we are lucky enough to have found each other. it is lucky enough to be in love.

[wildbasil]

things haven't been great but i think they will be. eventually 🌻🌼🩷

[bruciemilf]

Need a the Waynes Lived AU where Martha’s a vampire. She snuck in a Wayne Gala for a potential late night snack, but Thomas thought she was a socialite.

“So, what do you do?”

“I drain people of their life sources.”

“Oh, you’re a CEO too?”

She can’t drink Thomas’ blood because he smokes too much, the baggy eyes indicate long nights spent on his feet during surgery, which means it’ll taste bitter, and she saw him drown 10 whiskey shots in one go.

It’s a taste thing, nothing against him.

He is, how ever, very handsome, and she decided she’ll be his house cat for the time being. Fast forward two years later and they have a vampire cherub of a baby named Bruce.

Babies usually don’t come out with fangs and tiny bat wings, so, yeah. His wife’s a vampire. Cool.

“How come I’ve never seen your wife outside during the daytime, Tom??”

“How come I’ve never seen you mind your own fucking business?”

[loveshotzz]

this was so beautifully written!! every word you chose to describe actions, breaths, and emotions were truly so pretty to read. this was truly a treat 💗 my favorite part that made me 😵‍💫:

whisper

eddie munson x fem!reader ⎮ 2k

☁︎ the liminal darkness gives voice to secret desires ☁︎

cw: smut (18+ mdni), breeding kink, p in v unprotected, creampie, dirty talk, no plot

It was best like this.

Warm under the covers, Eddie’s bleary eyed whispers against the heated skin of your neck. Shifting under the the blankets until the hot, velvet flesh of his forearm was at your bare back. Like a waking dream, the lingering sleep was a thin veil over you. You would drape your leg across his hip like it belonged there. Like it had a touch memory, a home to wander back to. He would hum when you did it, trace his calloused fingers down your back and over your hips, palm you closer.  

It was best when you didn’t say anything at all. When you could feel your way there. When there were no barriers between your soft animal bodies. When all he had to do was shift his hips to tell you what he wanted. It was something you could feel — his cock heavy and lazy, resting on your inner thigh like a bed of its own. He didn’t have to do much; grip at the meat of your leg with his palm, rub his thumb over the bones of your hip in slow, firm circles. You would start to open up for him. Tingle and flutter. 

There wasn’t much to see. Not that you could under the covers. Not in the sparse street light glinting through the cracks in the curtains. You didn’t really need to. His nose would find yours against the pillow, nuzzle you with the hard bridge of it. You would trace it with your own, committing the delicate slope to memory, down, down until you reached the soft ball at the end. Forehead pressed to yours, he would start to move against you in the darkness. Gently buck his hips to seek some friction. Lazy and slow, flat palm against your low back, guiding you just how he wanted.

His heated lips would slot against yours, plush and cradling. You would open up for him. For his wet tongue as it lathed for permission against your lips. For his cock as it dragged against your thigh in a needy, lazy rhythm. You didn’t need to speak. You couldn’t really, not when his saliva slick tongue danced against yours, probing you in that same gentle rhythm. All in time. Coaxing thumb circles. Rocking hips. Probing tongue. You could feel the effects of his movements. The way his cock was sliding now against your soft inner thigh. Excited and attentive. Slick with anticipation. Back and forth. Lazy and gentle in the warm, dark cocoon. 

The heat would start to pool in you. Start to flutter and trickle. Start to ache in that deep, soft way. You would cant your hips closer, knee reaching for the other side of the bed until you made purchase. You would taste his moan as his spongey tip kissed your wet heat. Feel the grip of his palm, the stutter of his hips at his discovery. 

In the darkness it was easy to ask for what you wanted. So easy to glide back and forth. To tease your way there. Easy to get him right where you needed him. To feel the heated ridge of his cock against your folds. He was eager to do it. Happy in fact. He would smile against your lips when he got you just right. When he tasted your sigh as he glided over your aching bud. 

Eagerness was something you could feel. Slick and hot. Coating the skin in the tight space between you, clinging to the soft dusting of hair. A warm invitation. Your hand snaked over his shoulder and behind his neck, fingers tangling in the soft curls. You tugged gently and it earned you a gentle hum, an encouraging buck of his hips against that spot again. It was then that your moan broke the kiss.

Even with your eyes closed, could sense the delight on his face as he did it. The soft puff of air through that smart mouth of his. So he did it again. And again. His hips becoming more eager, thrusts more precise. Your body flush with his, sticking to his chest, feeling the muscles move under his skin as you braced his shoulder for leverage.

The ache would grow in you. Bloom as his slick head raked through your folds. Coil as it slipped across your clit. It was hypnotic, the way you moved together in the dark. The way your sighs mingled in the air between you

Your eyes fluttered open when you heard him whine. 

You could feel him prodding at your entrance. Nuzzling a plead at your throat as he pressed against your folds, gentle but firm. A soft I want in the gripping of his hand at your thigh, in the shifting of his weight as he pressed closer to you. 

Your body would accept him. It would delight in the pop as his head pushed in. In that full, delicious stretch as he kept pushing. In the sigh that you both shared as you enveloped him. Your body, you had discovered, loved to please him, to be just what he needed. 

There was a shift in him then. A shift in his body as he propped himself up. A shift as he guided you onto your back. A shift in the way that he settled on top of you, settled into you. Deep and slow. As close as he could get. His body would envelop yours now, a cocoon of musk and pheromones, a curtain of curls in the darkness, pressing you down into the mattress with his velvet weight. 

Your nose would find his jaw this time. Trace the rough, stubbled line of it, all the way back to the notch where it met his neck. Your lips would too. They would cradle the strong bone in plush, tender pecks, and as he began to rock his hips, your tongue would get curious. Taste the salt of his skin, feel the wiry tendons of his neck move under it. Your hands would find his hair, nestle themselves in it, draw him closer to you as he split you open. 

He would tend to your ache this way. Slow strokes. Pressing deep with every thrust. Relishing in the way your body molded to him, dragged against that sweet spot under the heart ridge of his cock. It was nice like this. He would make you feel so full with every rut, and he would do it for a while. Never sure how long it really was. Time was nonexistent in the dark cocoon. 

Until there was another shift. Eddie would prop himself up on his forearms. Move a little faster. Stir the heat in you a little more. Build and quell the ache at once. His breath would get heavy, hips impatient. They would smack against yours in a timely cadence. His hair would tickle your shoulders with each movement. The bed would rock a little harder. 

In the darkness, the quiet parts of you would speak. 

Eddie would start to whisper things. Things that never left his lips when the lights were on and his smart mouth was running laps. When it was you and him in the back of his van, or you riding him on the couch mid-movie. When it was loud, and fast, and bright. But here in the darkness it was different. 

“Wanna fuck you full,” he would husk against the shell of your ear. 

There wasn’t a lot going on upstairs. Not when his cock was stirring up a fire in you. Not when your brains and bodies were numb with pleasure. 

So you would whisper back. 

“Please baby, fuck me so full.”

This pleased him. You could tell by the sinful moan that left his lips. By the way his pace increased. By the sticky slapping that filled the dark room amidst the panting breaths.

“Oh god… need to cum so bad,” he would whine as your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders, as your knees drew upward, eager to to receive what he promised. “You want my cum, baby?”

“Oh please, want it so bad.”

And you did. You wanted it so bad. Wanted to feel it bloom in you, feel the gooey warmth fill you as his ragged moans filled the air. Wanted him to make you his.

His teeth would find your neck and make you dizzy. Suck a bruise and mark you up as his hips snapped forward, as his heavy balls smacked against your ass with every rut. 

He would whisper things through gritted teeth. Quiet, secret things against your neck in the safety of the darkness.

“Want me to make you mine?” he huffed, “put a baby in you?”

Your eyes might have rolled back into your head. It didn’t matter if he really meant it or not. Now was not the time for asking questions. It was the time for giving honest answers, and in the liminal space of the dark cocoon, yours was a no-brainer.

“Yes.” 

Another shift, like a switch flipped on. He might have been Eddie a second ago, but he was an animal now. Savage and primal. Fucking you down into the mattress with full force. 

“Fuck. I’ll fuckin’ do it. Fill your pretty cunt right up.” His voice was crazed, ragged.

If you had any response, he’d fucked it right out of you. All you could muster was a silent O as you tipped your head back, the ache he stirred inside of you building to a wall of pleasure.

“Oh god—oh fuck baby I’m right there,” he whined.

Your hand came to paw in what little space there was between you as you chased your own release, the swell of his belly tapping against your knuckles with every push. You weren’t far either.

“Come on baby… need your cum. Need it so bad,” you eeked out. 

“Mhmm…” he grunted, hips stuttering. “Fuck… g’na cum.”

“Oh fuck baby, please...” The numb, dizzying ache inside was climbing to a fever pitch. Your fingers would bring it past the edge. “Oh, ohhh.” 

Suddenly there were no words from him. Only the building pitches of his ragged pants. He would bury himself in you with gritted teeth. Push so deep that had it not been for his quick hand behind your head, you would have hit the wall. 

It would happen then, like a big yawn inside. Like a shaking, stretching, bloom. And he would give you what you asked for. Warm and thick. He would paint you with it as the sounds that filled the night air teetered somewhere between moans and sobs. 

In the liminal darkness there was no time. No world outside. Only Eddie, and you under his crushing weight as he finally collapsed. Only the ragged expanse of his ribcage. The warmth that pooled inside you. 

You could hear his smile in the breath that left his lips. Blissful. Satisfied. You would guide his chin to bring them to yours. Taste the sweat on them. And he would stay like this for as long as he could. Buried deep. Forehead pressed to yours. Softening cock like a dam to keep his seed in you. Until he couldn’t anymore.

It would end much like how it started. Him on his back, you with your knee draped lazily across him. Fingers toying with the sparse hair on his chest as love trickled out of you. 

Perhaps the daylight would prompt questions. Perhaps not. But for now it was just you and him in the dark cocoon. 

And it was best like this.

______

tagging: @storiesbyrhi bc you asked to be tagged in all ❤︎

❋ feedback is my lifeblood, let me know what you think and please share so others can enjoy too! ❋

[lgbtlunaverse]

I've seen a good number of people ask a question along the lines of "why do characters like Falin and hate Laios when they're so similar?" and i've also seen good analysis on the differences in how the touden siblings carry themselves that would, despite their shared traits, make a person gravitate to one more than the other.

But i feel like we've overseen one very central thing here.

People don't like Falin

Like... the average person in dungeon meshi doesn't like Falin. She was deeply ostrasized by her home village, in magic school she had zero friends before Marcille and the others generally saw her as strange and a bit offputting.

Characters like Namari and Chilchuck like her well enough but not necessarily more than any other member of their party, including Laios. Neither Kabru nor his party think much of her. The canaries don't give a fuck about her. Toshiro's retainers don't see her as anything else than the weird foreign girl their boss has a crush on.

The reason we think everyone loves Falin is because, despite all the indifferent side characters, the 2 most important and central characters of the story are Laios and Marcille. Who are NOT representative of the average attitudes to Falin! But necromancy georg number 1 and 2 are our main eyes into the story and they love Falin so much that it colours our perspective of the whole world.

The only side character who qualifies as liking Falin and not Laios is Toshiro (at least at first, as he ends the story on much better terms with Laios) and that says a lot about his character, with him drifting to the quiet Falin precisely because of her oddness but being both uncomfortable with and deeply jealous of Laios' much more open expression of that oddness. Because he's a repressed guy from a culture where etiquette is incredibly important.

But like I said, that's a specific aspect of him, not to the world at large.

Because there's also people that click more with laios than with Falin.

Kabru, for one, who is initially distrustful of laios but clearly also deeply fascinated by him and drawn to him.

Minor spoilers, and you don't have to read too deeply into this, because I don't think Kabru particularly dislikes Falin or anything. But it's interesting that when he talks about his distrust of the toudens in ch.32 he's talking about them both. But his big friendship declaration in chapter 76 is aimed squarely at Laios, he doesn't say "you and your sister" he says "you"

And Senshi!! He instantly clicks with Laios, well before he does so with anyone else in the party– who he also becomes friends with, it just takes a bit longer– specifically because they bond over their shared special interest in monsters!! Senshi is kind towards Falin and cares for her wellbeing, but he also... doesn't know her. The reason he is even here, helping to save her, is because he and Laios bonded over monsters and he wants to help his new friends out!

Of course, the theme of neurodivergent isolation is very present in Laios' story. I'm not denying that. He does turn people off, without meaning to and unable to fully understand why! But so does Falin. And just like there are people who like her despite of or even because of those traits, there are people who do the same with him.

In conclusion: "Average person loves Falin and hates Laios" factoid actually statistical error. Average person is neutral on both Falin and Laios. Georcille, Laiorg and Geoshiro, who live in the dungeon and think over 10,000 Falin-loving thoughts a day, are statistical outliers adn should not have been counted.

[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.