#I AM ON A CHOKEHOLD

[joelsfarabee]

no but the way i physically cannot stop listening to con la brisa after watching wakanda

[hellishattempt]

nanami kento comes home on a saturday afternoon, hands full of groceries and hair freshly cut. in the distance, he hears his precious wife humming along to her favorite soundtrack. you must not have heard him come in. he smiles to himself, setting the groceries on the counter, but not unloading them. that can wait. right now, he wants to hold you.

he slips out of his shoes, padding quietly to the laundry room where you are folding towels. you have your back to him, headphones lodged in your ears. as nanami gets closer, the music bleeding from your headphones becomes audible. he chuckles softly. no matter how many times he tells you it's bad for your ears, you insist on listening to your music at just below full volume.

snaking his arms around your waist, you jump at the sudden contact. nanami presses his chest against your back as you take out your headphones, leaning into his touch. you sway in silence for a moment, nanami resting his chin on your shoulder. when you turn to face him, your expression changes at the sight of his hair.

"your hair," you state dumbly. "you cut it."

"yes," your husband muses. "is there something wrong with it?"

"no, no!" you assure nanami, studying his hair. "i just wasn't expecting it. you normally have me do it, which you know i don't mind doing."

"i know, but i didn't want to bother you on your cleaning day."

your expression softens at his words. nanami, your ever loving, ever caring husband, always thinking about you before himself. you reach one hand up, smoothing the hair down the back of his neck. as you bring your hand up, the freshly cut hair pricks your palm, and nanami lets out a low hiss.

you immediately apologize, pulling away. "did that hurt?"

"yes, but it's okay. it felt... good," nanami confessed. "... do it again. please." his voice is thick and demanding, and you obey without hesitation.

this time, you use just the tips of your fingertips to graze his undercut, beginning at the base of his neck. his breathing quickens as you continue to to run your hands through his undercut, going up and down, switching from one hand to both, thumbs caressing the sides of the cut. the laundry room fills with his melodic whimpers and faint groans. his eyes are shut tight, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"fuck..." he cusses lowly.

"you okay, nani?" you giggle, stopping momentarily. his eyes flash open, pupils blown. "kento?"

"let's go to the bedroom," he insisted, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the master bedroom. you barely have time react before nanami pushes you back on to the bed, practically ripping your leggings off.

"kento, what are you doin-" you try to protest, his hands clamping around your wrist and bringing them down to grip his hair. his head disappears between your leg, lips latching around your clit. involuntarily, your fingers tighten around his sharp undercut. he moans into your cunt, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body.

from then on, nanami kento always got an undercut.

[lilybug-02]

This is Pixel, my Porygon2. She gets really excited when touching carpet - like hilariously so. I always figured it was because real life textures are kinda new and exciting for a digital creature. @realpokemon

[maroisedot]

tehee~

[brucie-baby]

anyways i think that gotham's lack of sunlight combined with clark 'the sun makes me magic' kent has incredible unrequited/pining superbat potential. like, clark going to gotham as often as he can to see the man he's in love with only to find himself feeling physically drained after each visit. do you see the vision.

[ribbittrobbit]

[atomicfoxx]

Some Remy LeBeau gifs ✨💖

[infernal-house-demon]

I love David Tennant with my whole heart and think he is an absolutely phenomenal actor. Crowley is one of my favourite characters of all time.

But I just gotta take a moment to talk up Michael Sheen. He’s been great in everything I’ve seen him in. But his acting choices as Aziraphale just make me go absolutely feral! He can communicate so fucking much without even saying a word. I was looking for art references for my next thing and I came across this picture from after the kiss

HOLY SHIT DUDE! Holy fucking shit! One single frame and it says so so so so much! His performance is subtle and restrained and yet it is so incredibly powerful and clear! I am going insane over this man. Not to mention the absolute consistency that he (and likewise David) play their characters with. The mannerisms, the ways they carry themself, the range of expression. David does so much with the rest of his face since we can’t often see his eyes, meanwhile Michael’s eyes say absolutely everything and it is just absolutely phenomenal. These two in this show, especially in the second season, just give maybe some of the best performances I’ve seen in anything. It’s an absolute delight to watch and I cannot stop thinking about them both, but especially right now Michael Sheen lives rent free in my mind. I’ll say, once more, with the utmost affection and respect, HOLY SHIT.

[1000feuille]

samarie & marina

[aesthetinkie]

I just finished watching gravity falls....

[maalidoesart]

detectives!!!

[ficcerspam]

Tim has noticed something odd, about the Demon Brat.

Sometimes, the Demon Brat would look to his left, as if to start a conversation, or as if anticipating someone saying something, only to freeze. Just for a moment, a half second, because nobody was there, before looking away with painful expression. 

Months later, Tim decided to stand there, just to see what would happen. The brat didn’t look at him once, and Tim found that curious, and odd.

Another odd thing about his new, murderous brother, is that he refuses to look into the mirror. That’s not true, exactly: he would look in the mirror for basics, for necessities. 

Tim realized, months of observations later, that the brat didn’t look himself in the eyes. 

Strange. 

Tim had asked him, once, why he didn’t. As expected, all he got was a “It’s none of your business Drake.”

But that didn’t stop Tim from wondering. Tim is, if nothing else, curious to a fault and persistent to an illegal degree. 

And so the strangeness would continue, and Tim would wonder.  

The brat would look to his left, pause, and then look away. He would deftly avoid mirrors, and when asked why he would sneer and avoid those questions, too. 

Until he didn’t. 

Until he came back to the Cave battered and beaten, some dreary autumn day, the Demon Brat unusually sullen and quiet and off his game. He had sat through the lecture Bruce had given him, and sat through the quiet reaching out from Dick, and sat through the cajoling teasing meant to rile him up, to get him to say or do anything per the norm, with an unusual aplomb.

The brat apologized, said he was fine, and ignored the rest. He told Bruce he wouldn’t patrol tomorrow, and would stay home from school, because clearly he wasn’t feeling well. 

 It was like Damian wasn’t there, fully. 

So when Tim saw that the brat’s door was open, the next day, he peeked in. 

Of course he did. 

And there the brat was, sitting in front of the full length mirror he usually had covered with a cloth when it wasn’t in use, reaching up and staring directly into his own reflection’s eyes. 

“Demon Brat?” Tim asked, stepping in and concerned about the look in the other’s face. There was no answer. 

“Damian. What’s wrong.” Tim stood behind the boy, watching as Damian touched the corner of his own reflection’s eye. 

“The color’s wrong, Drake.” Damian finally said, matter of fact and almost broken, absent-minded. 

“What?” Tim asked, trying to see what he was talking about. Nothing was wrong, nothing was changed. Damian met his eyes through the mirror for a long moment, but Tim didn’t understand. 

“The color.” Damian reiterated, looking at his own reflection again. 

“The color? Of what?” Tim and Damian were never close, not really, but he was starting to feel like something was slipping away, in this moment. Damian dropped his hand, and finally looked away. 

Without answering, the boy got up and carefully draped a cloth over the mirror, ushering Tim out of his room silent as the dead. 

“Leave me be for today, Drake.” Tim reached, opened his mouth to try and say something, because something was wrong, but what? 

But Damian simply shut the door softly. 

The sound of the lock engaging felt strangely, and utterly, final in a Manor full of lockpicking detectives.

Tim laid a hand on the door, and mourned. 

[kennico]

refreshing drink 🥤

[officialmiintee]

one piece / brothers

[baeshijima]

so uhm…

what if i just died

what then 🧍‍♀️

[h4unted-d4rling]

I love how the new generation Gravity Falls fans are like “oh so we’re simping over a triangle?” like yes!!!! We’ve been fawning over that fucker since 2012!!!!!!! Bill had me in a chokehold at 8 years old and he still does as I’m 20 years old.