#I need men to die

[loser-of-the-idgaf-war]

Men pissing me off during pride month is actually homophobic

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[riverswater]

×

[theactualsunshinechild]

Feixiao scooping Jiaoqiu up by his armpits and holding him up as he tries desperately to look dignified: "This is my lovely culinary healer Jiaoqiu, he saved me from the brink of death once and eats wet food only."

Feixiao dragging a protesting and hissing Moze out from the darkness beneath the couch and holding him up by the scruff as he gives up and hangs there limply: "and this is Moze! I found him half dead in the dumpster behind my house one day!"

[thefloatingstone]

Trying to figure out how to make squid boy emote because every time I've drawn him so far he looks very stern and it just didn't sit right with me. Also the more I played the more I noticed how his expressions change.

Anyway this is what I got so far. I plan to do more because hoo boy is it tricky to pull certain emotions out of him.

[multistanninglifestyle]

You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs

I’m not a hallucination

You’re a pipe dream

- The king’s men

So as a direct consequence of Nora Sakavic’s return and announcement of a spin off on Jean, I have once again been thrown into the depths of the never ending spiral of re-reading aftg. And it’s lovely, as always. Rip my grades tho💀.

[siderains]

“dads and daughters, you think any of them ever really get it right?”

(yasmin belkhyr, “Interlude with forgotten myth, or, portrait of ibrahim’s daughter,” alongside with the panel from “dawn of x”/picture of an aurora borealis/paragraph of one of kafka’s letters to his father/quote from “last days of magneto” with the artwork of briony marshall called “peaceful embrace”/quote from “wuthering heights” by emily brönte/quote from poem “the angry daughter” by janelles locket with a panel of “house of m”/quote from the book “ghost of my ghosts” by sol rios/quote from “x factor”/panel from “the trial of magneto”)

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Ones Who Live | 1x03 - Bye

[liquorwrist]

i need logan to die in s2

full+nsft in cropped….

[turquoisephoenix]

Tell me, Mario; do you believe in destiny immutable?

Cult of the Lamb tarot cards but they're Paper Mario characters.

-------

The Ghost Gulper: The hunger of an empty heart. Gain the ability to eat summoned ghosts still on the battlefield for health.

The Shadow Siren: Make your choice. No turning back. Deals fire damage to enemies struck. Fire behaves like poison but can spread to other enemies by touch and can stack with poison.

The Gilded Cage: A contract was signed. Make their power yours. At the adventure map, you can choose to sacrifice a follower to gain an overall damage increase by up to 3x.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?

female anatomy for reader (no use of y/n, gender-neutral pronouns)

nsfw, fluffy smut basically word count: 1900~ english is not my first language. if you spot any mistakes (especially grammar ones), any typos/misspelled words, or if you have any advice for me in general: please let me know. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated.

art cr: @arcanescribbles

"Have some mercy on yourself," you mumble, wrapping an arm around his slender waist, and its thinness has you puzzled and somewhat concerned again. He doesn't hesitate. Allows you to place that weary head on his shoulder, to nuzzle into the crook of his neck — a pleasant relief in the guise of your heat, of rhythmic breath tickling his slimline skin.

"You can't work that much,” you remind him, trying to hide your evident worry behind a light-hearted chuckle.

“Have you ever heard of a proper greeting?” Viktor quirks an eyebrow, and his deft hand quickly grabs yours to do a thing that never fails to make your heart shrink: has you melting at the feeling of his dry, warm lips on your knuckles yet again.

“Hug is a proper greeting,” you protest with a slightly offended scoff, burying your nose into the gorgeous mess of his hair — all unkempt strands and a sturdy scent of something pleasant, yet not exactly definable.

“Not when it comes with scolding,” Viktor releases your hand, the touch of his lips lingering on your skin, and he turns around, forcing you to break the embrace for a second — which you do reluctantly. But now you get to face him, and it certainly feels like a much bigger win.

A win and another reason to give him a lecture. Viktor initiates eye contact, runs a hand along the perfect curve of your hips, hoping that his gentle touch is a good enough distraction from his terribly deep eye-bags — so treacherously confirming your concerns about his sleep schedule (or the lack of such, to be precise).

"You've gotten thinner," you state with a sad frown, looking Viktor up and down. "And you need a nap," you continue, tangling two fingers into his hair. "And a bath.”

“I’ve missed you terribly, and that’s the first thing you mention when I finally have you in my arms?” Viktor cooes, staring at you with a guilty smile — your love-sick genius, always exhausted yet so unexplainably handsome in his own special way.

You scoff again, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently pressing him against the desk — a small gesture of care that allows his body better support without the cane.

“Have you eaten today?” you carefully ask, watching his expression closely.

“Maybe,” he grudgingly answers, and his amber eyes are lancing right through you in the dull light of his lab — tired, attentive, pretty.

“I don’t like that answer." Your voice is a sweet purr against his skin, and he winces as you slide a hand down his chest, fixing his vest for him.

“You’re being incredibly annoying today,” he informs you, pressing a quick peck to your lips. A brief one, barely palpable, too fleeting to give you a proper taste. “Perhaps I should appease you.”

“If you want to appease me, a kiss like that won’t do.”

“Demanding, are we?” He quirks an eyebrow, casually sitting down at his desk, squeezing your waist in a playful attempt to pull you onto his lap. But you don’t move an inch. Not until he kisses you properly, at least.

He gets the hint. Gently grabs your chin, pressing your noses together — kissing the right way this time, deep and slow, with his tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping into your open mouth — it’s almost lewd when that small motion steals a surprised moan out of you. A kiss of a hungry, fervently missing his lover man. Your man.

“Better?” His question is rhetorical at this point. He knows he left you amazed and dizzy once again — your messy breath is giving it all away. But Viktor wouldn’t be Viktor if he hadn’t asked. The incorrigible tease at his best behavior.

“Much better.”

You give him the reassurance he’s been seeking, adding the missing touch to this affectionate gesture by nuzzling into his embrace, and he hums, satisfied with the solace you’ve brought him so easily with the mere power of your presence.

“So… is my darling appeased now?”

“Relatively.” You laugh, and a self-assured smirk plasters smugly across his face. “It won’t save you from having dinner with me tonight though.”

“Is that so? Well, I appreciate the effort, and the fact that you came here just to visit your sick, touch-starved man, but I’m afraid I still have work to do—“

“I’m not here just to visit you,” you cut him off, as one of your hands slips off his neck straight to cup his sharp knee. “I’m here to collect you. I’m stealing you home with me.”

“Oh no.” He cracks an exaggeratedly offended expression, but judging from the still present on his face grin — he’s actually rather pleased with your intentions. “Being abducted definitely doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”

“That’s right.” You nod, nudging him softly. “I’ll even hold you hostage if that’s what it takes to bathe you and get you into bed.”

“But what a horrific torture!” he pulls away, slamming a hand against his chest with a low giggle — it lands on his sternum with a muffled slap, right where his thudding heart is. “How ever will I survive that?”

“I believe your fate is inevitable, so you better just accept it.”

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, and you gasp, allowing him to lay his cheek against your chest. “Can’t wait to end up in that bath with you,” he whispers, and you hitch in breath, your shaky hands stop massaging his scalp.

“Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?” you tease light-heartedly, feeling his grip tighten around your waist.

“Me.” His response is firm and simple, yet still maddening enough for you to go weak in the knees. Apparently, his nap is being delayed again.

***

Bath with Viktor is a death sentence — a long and squirming one, of countless orgasms and moans loud enough to wake up the whole Piltover. You tried, you really did, to talk him out of it, to make him wait until at least after dinner, but he’s stubborn and knows damn well that you can’t resist him. So all your warnings about how he needs some rest first were muffled mercilessly by his tongue buried deep inside you. At this point, you’re not even sure whether he’s really that into devouring you, or if he’s just trying to prove you wrong, to show you that he’s never tired when it comes to eating you out.

He has you sitting on the edge of the bathtub, legs resting on his covered in crescent nail marks shoulders, and you tug, tug, tug on his hair as he tongue-fucks you through yet another insane release. If only he could smile right now, which was obviously impossible in his position, he would definitely give you the most provoking signature smirk. So you mentally thank his passion for giving head, since it’s the one to blame for his inability to destroy you even more with those grins and his witty dirty-talk right now. He has you right where he wants you: with your thighs wrapped tightly around his head, with your slick getting quite literally everywhere — his tongue, his chin, some on his chest, even. And when you slam your head against the wall, light-headed and breathless, he knows it’s time to do a particularly vicious thing — to suck on your abused clit so hard he might as well just suck the damn soul out of you while he’s at it.

Too much. Overwhelmingly so. And those sweat drops forming on his forehead, and the way he digs his wet fingers into the soft flesh of your legs, and the way he laps up so thoroughly—

“Gonna cum.” You gather the last strengths in your possession to mumble an illegible warning and the skillful bastard between your thighs only picks up pace, leaving you wondering how his tongue is still intact after all that frantic motions inside your cunt. But the technique is rather impressive. You stare at him, wide-eyed and with your lower lip bitten. His sinful gaze meets yours with a guttural rattle when you grip a strand of his dark hair so hard your knuckles turn white. You want to tell him how good his mouth feels, how indescribably hot he looks kneeling in the bathtub, how attractive his skin glistens right now, in the warm water. But the words are unnecessary. Your precious cussing as you come undone on his agile tongue is the best existing compliment to him.

So you deliver. He coaxes the third orgasm out of you. Leaves you throbbing, making one of your shaking legs slip off his slick shoulder into the water with a loud splash. He licks the remnants of you tauntingly slow off his swollen lips, watching your every convulsion closely, and he’s so proud of himself that it almost re-turns you on all over again.

“Look at you.” His sultry whisper reminds you that his ability to be a smartass is back.

“Viktor—“ You suffocate, grabbing his shoulder to hold on for dear life, so you don’t fall out of the tub completely. He chuckles, carefully pulling you back into the water, thoughtful as always, like the gentleman he is. Well, if rearranging your guts with that tortuous tongue and thick cock could be considered something gentlemen do, of course.

He tastes like you now. His tongue is somewhat sour, much puffier in comparison to yours, and it’s not that animate anymore — he pushes it into your mouth rather lazily, evidently worn out by the intercourse.

“I thought the purpose of this bath was to get me cleaned, not dirty,” he whispers with a filthy giggle, wiping your slick off his chin. You roll your eyes, admitting that the single thing stopping you from biting him for that joke is a complete lack of energy. Admitting that he’d just one-upped every single man you've slept with before. Once again.

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggle back, nuzzling into his chest, and it feels so gentle — the lust is gone and the only thing left between you two is pure affection; divine, immaculate, expressed through the softness of your body and the sharpness of his.

“I would be a liar if I said it doesn’t sound tempting, but I don’t believe you’re in a state to do that, my love,” Viktor teases, but you don’t talk back. He left you witless. Too fucked out for your own liking and just perfect for his. “Do you think you can make it to the kitchen?” he asks, pointing at your wobbly legs.

“Yeah.” You hesitate for a second, reluctant to get out of the warm bath. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m not hungry.” Viktor shakes his head, and his response dramatically increases your urge to pinch him. That wasn’t the deal!

“No. Not a chance, you’re not skipping dinner again.”

“But I’ve already had dinner. Well. In a way,” he whispers, as the corners of his mouth curl into another insufferable smirk, and it takes a good ten-second uncomfortable pause for you to understand the pun.

“Eating pussy is not an actual meal,” you frown, pulling away.

“And that’s so unfortunate, don’t you think? At least that way, I’d never skip them…”

“Viktor!”

[crowcicle]

slimecicle played dead plate!!!!

[cursed-rat-of-homosexuality]

Wait

WHAT????

[sergle]

the world is full of balance. the wheel of time may be one of the worst book-adaptation shows I've ever watched. and it also may have exposed me to the hottest man I have Ever Seen. I feel sick. what the fuck do yall know about Amar Chadha-Patel. I've been awake for 29 hours and counting

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[thefloatingstone]

I remember Garrus complains a lot in the third game when you take him to an ice world but I forgot he would complain about this even in the first game.

Put on a sweater, bird boy.

Liara profusely apologised after the mission thinking she had made some MASSIVE social mistake and overthinking it until she was in a state of anxiety. As is ME1 Liara's way.