#IDK WHERE THEY ARE

[the-mxster]

I JUST LOST MY FUCKING 10TH DOCTOR AND SIMM MASTER FIGURES IN A FUCKING FOREST

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

[no arms and no wins]

[funkycoloured]

i am torturing myself by watching criminal minds alone at night in a hotel room i'm terrified

[sorrowshared]

@aequitaes sent: “How long have you been having these nightmares?” (:

He's sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, knees bent and the soles of his feet flat against the ground. It's hard and cold and certainly an odd choice to anyone seeing him now, but an instinctual one for V. The floor is grounding, real, solid. A reminder of where he really is that saves him from slipping back into the horrors of his mind, these visions so palpable they cannot be anything other than memories.

Memories of someone else's life; for they cannot be his.

The hands that reach, the voice that screams, even the lungs that breathe (when they allow him to) in these memories are distinctly not his own - and yet they are painfully familiar, as known to him as those he's looking at right now; perhaps more so. It can't be him and yet it must be, as the misery he recollects is entirely his own. It is burned into his mind, his flesh and blood; so much so that there's no doubt that these are not fearful visions of the future but glimpses into a past so terrible it should perhaps be no surprise that he's erased them from his consciousness. --But how can they be his and not his at the same time? It hurts his head and heart to think about, so he tries not to.

The air feels like needles on his skin, the wind outside hurts to listen to. He's trembling while trying not to, cold sweat on his forehead and neck causing his hair to stick to his skin uncomfortably. He wants a shower more than anything but knows the water would be scalding hot against his body; the thought of stripping bare in that cold cramped space an ordeal of its own. He's miserable, cold, frightened - but not alone. For once he is not alone.

He didn't intend for Nero to join him on the floor but he did so without having to be asked, without questioning it either. Though there is little the hunter's courage can do to fight the monsters in V's mind, he is a presence to anchor himself to, a light in the literal darkness of the night, his voice something to focus on. Reaching up, V brushes a hand over his cheeks to wipe away what's left of the tears that fell from his eyes just before he woke up; tears of despair and fear rather than sadness. Their half-dried trails feel like scars on his face.

"As long as I remember," V replies, knowing fully well how meaningless an answer it is. He hasn't told Nero the circumstances of his being here, of the gaping holes in his past. It's not a lie he speaks but an empty statement nonetheless. How long has he been plagued by these nightmares indeed? How long ago were they reality? Unconsciously V moves his hand while he focuses his attention on breathing and making out details around the room: a stain on the opposite wall that looks black in the darkness and could be anything from chocolate sauce to blood; streaks on the window above; a sticker of a cartoon raven glued to the right corner of a cupboard door. His fingers curl around the hem of Nero's jacket, the fabric soft and smooth to the touch.

"They haunt my waking hours too," he admits.

[raychleadele]

“Why did you follow this person ? uwu”

I’ve been here for fourteen years, do you think I remember? I don’t know who any of these people are anymore. I don’t know why they’re on my dash. I allow them to stay because they haven’t pissed me off enough to unfollow them yet. “Why did you follow this person?” I’m not sure I ever did. They’re just part of my ecosystem now.

[starrysharks]

ghanaian miku

[twinkwoman]

it sucks so bad that 'lightning magic' in every media is just some pathetic little strands of electricity. i wanna see some LIGHTNING. show me a magic setting where lightning magic lights up a room like the sun, and the bolt is only visible as an afterimage burned into your vision. I wanna see someone cast lightning and have the thunder rattling the room and shaking everyone to their core. i want lightning magic to be a split second blast of so much power it leaves everyone's senses reeling. c'mon guys don't you know what real lightning looks like? we can be doing so much better than this.

[stuckinapril]

I could get over anything as long as I have something new to be obsessed with

[noelledeltarune]

EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt

[black-quadrant]

[mosslingg]

is this anything

[thxnks4themrms]

Okay but we’ve all been in some sort of polycule when we were younger

[sparkburst]

It’s been 5 years since I got this card from a hibachi chef

[wherestoriescomefrom]

why did you people come up with russian names for what is supposed to be a movie set in italy. what was the thought process here. why does she sound like she walked out of a tolstoy novel

[trustymikh]

there are many benefits to being a ground-type pokemon trainer

[yeyinde]

size kink!King Simon Riley x virgin!reader.

Simon's never fucked a virgin before. never had an appetite for them, really. the type he prefers are easy prey. the ones who'll let him rut his fat cock into them until he cums, who always marvel at how big he is. everywhere. who wimper through the stretch, brows pinched tight and fists balled up, but can't fight the victory in their eyes when they reach the bottom, taking him to the root. proud, then, that they conquered this particular beast. he's fine with what he has. really—

but then he finds you. and it's over when your little fawn eyes fall on him, bringing this massive beast to his knees.

the only problem is. he's too big. much too big for you.

he can't fuck you properly so he pushes his cock against your slit, squeezes your thighs tight together, and ruts you like this. a pale imitation of the real thing, of course. but he gets off on how small you look under him, how he pushes out from between your thighs with each stroke, leaking precum all over your belly. marking you.

sex with you is him breaking your pussy in on his thick, rough fingers. one has you wincing, teeth clenched tight. like you've never been touched before. fuck. sweet as pie, aren't you? then two. a tight fit, but he makes it work. suckles on your clit until you gush around him, pussy knotting up around his knuckles like a vice. three is evidently more than you can handle. you howl into the sheets as he forces another finger inside, tongue laving over the stretched skin of your cunt. makes it up to you by wringing out several orgasms with his fingers pressed inside of your cunt, his tongue glued to your clit. his jaw, chin, and neck are drenched, and he basks in tang of you while you wimper against his chest, little sniffles dying out as he cuts his big palm over your pussy, holding you like that. owned. claimed. (almost) all his.

when he isn't fingering you, or spreading you over the sheets, thighs stretched wide over his shoulders as he buries his face into your sweet, sweet pussy, he likes to tap the head of his cock against your slit, admiring the sheer vastitude of your differing sizes. his cock slides between your thighs in a way that it almost garish to look at. awful. strokes his cock the sight of it as he makes you suck on his fingers, and play with your nipples. cums all over your chest, your face. makes you cum all over his, too. it's only fair, after all.

or it's just the tip—literally—because that's the most he can push inside of you before you're whining his name, little fists pounding his chest, pushing him back, trying to get this battering ram out of your sore, stuffed pussy. so he settles for working you open on three fingers, his tongue. loosening you up as much as he can before pushing the head of his fat cock inside of you until you start whimpering out his name. too much, too much, too much—

and then he leans back on his haunches to watch as your hands stroke along his shaft, letting just the head of his cock shallowly fuck into you, stretching your cunt out around him. it's obscene. lewd. he thinks he can smell brimstone clogging his nose, flaming licking his skin, with each inch he forces you to take. gets off on the sight alone, of him greedily giving you another inch. and then another. another. can already see the bulge in your belly. the heavy outline of his thick cock splitting you apart.

he cums inside of you like this. just the tip, fuckin' hell. cumming in your pussy as you masterbate his cock and whine at the too full, overstuffed feeling of him filling you up.

he can't help but to imagine what it would be like when you finally give in, when he pushes the full length of himself into you, splitting you apart around his considerable girth—

feels his cock pulse in response, spitting more spend out into your drenched cunt, plugged up nice and tight around him.

Simon knows you were made for him (and him alone). it's just that some toys need to be broken in before you can play with them. he'll see to it that you're broken in just right.