#IM LITERALLY

[starheirxero]

The way my heart broke when I heard Eclipse say “I’m sorry” so quietly at the end of the episode…

I KNOWWWW I KNOW I KNOW I CAN'T I CAN'TTTTT I'M GOING TO EAT MY ARMS OFF ABOUT IT FUCKKKK

I KNOW PEOPLE HAVE POINTED IT OUT ALREADY BUT I AM ESPECIALLY EMOTIONAL ABOUT HOW IT SEEMED LIKE HE ALMOST GOT TO SAY IT TO LUNAR BEFORE THEY WALKED AWAY.

Y'ALL. Y'ALL THE PARALLELS. THE PARALLELS BETWEEN THIS AND WHEN MOON SAID SORRY TO ECLIPSE ONCE HE WALKED AWAY. DO YOU GET ME. DO YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!! WAILS SO LOUDLY

[sn0wp1anets]

everytime i think about this photo i jsut start sobbing

[cintax3rror]

So that New TADC Ep

ABSOLUTELY EVIL IT RUINED MY LIFE

10/10 go watch

[crickets-must-be-enslaved]

i should be asleep

[ghostherlig]

OH MY GODDDDDDD-

[presdestigatto]

we are in the bottom 5 again

3/3 for this triple header whoooooo three peat

[astersugar]

GOD look att him. LOOK AT HIM!!!!! i feel sick. how am i supposed to go back to work when im rendered useless just thinkiing about this. what the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK.

and he has THE NERVE to look THIS cute and charming and handsome and sweet in the same trailer while holding this stupid little skeleton keychain???? what am i supposed to do with this. IM GOING TO TRHWO UP HE MAKES ME SO CRAZY AGHHHGHGHGGG

[mcdraikins]

mattdrai soulbond confirmed wtf

[ratboyinastarrycoat]

was greeted this evening by my brother RUSHING to find me and show me a video on his phone.... it's an ANIMATION MEME TO THE SONG BRASS I MADE IN 2021. WITH TRACED MARGE DANCING MEMES TO START OFF. IM MORTIFIED. HOW DID HE FIND THAT.

[darkenedroses-world]

Vital Tension — Grizzy x Reader

f!reader, med assistant, sneaky, fingering

The sound of steady beeping monitors and the faint scent of antiseptic filled the small examination room where you worked, just as it did every day. You were a medical assistant—technically still under supervision, but granted enough autonomy to handle basic patient care solo. The crispness of your scrubs and the ID badge clipped to your collar were a constant reminder of your professionalism. Today, though, that professionalism was about to be tested in a way you never saw coming. You’d been running around all morning, handling patient intake, cleaning instruments, and reviewing charts for your supervising physician. The morning rush was finally slowing, and you were looking forward to a few moments of quiet when the door swung open. Your head shot up—and there stood Grizzy. You felt the spark instantly, a now-familiar heat crawling up your neck. You and Grizzy weren’t officially anything—no labels, no defined relationship. But you’d been circling each other for weeks, sharing private jokes and lingering glances that stretched seconds into something electric. You’d slept together more than once, more than twice, each time more charged than the last. It was unofficial, experimental—a delicious secret neither of you seemed eager to define or deny. And here he was, stepping into your sterile world, a slow grin pulling at his full lips.

Your heart thumped in your chest. Something was off. He wore an exaggerated grimace, one hand cradling his shoulder, brows drawn together as if in pain. “I… might’ve hurt myself,” he said, voice low and just a touch too dramatic. Immediately, your medical instincts kicked in, though you suspected his theatrics. It wasn’t that you doubted he could’ve strained something, but the way his eyes gleamed told you he had other intentions. Still, you didn’t question him. Instead, you patted the exam table with a professional smile. “Sit down,” you said, adopting your calm, clinical tone, “Let me take a look.” He hopped up onto the padded surface, wincing a bit too convincingly. Standing between his parted knees, you began a methodical inspection of his shoulder, pressing gently around the joint. His muscle was tense, warm under your gloved fingertips. “Where does it hurt?” you asked, leaning closer, your hair falling forward slightly. “Right… there,” he murmured, his voice dropping as he guided your hand just a fraction higher. You detected no real injury—no flinch of genuine pain, no swelling. Instead, Grizzy’s gaze slid lower, roaming over the neckline of your scrubs, lingering on the curve of your collarbone. The air crackled with unspoken desire. You tried to swallow back a grin, leveling him with a knowing look.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” He chuckled, dropping the act instantly. “Not even a little,” he admitted, voice low. “Just wanted to see you.” There was no apology in his eyes, just mischief. “Missed you,” he added softly, as if that explained everything. Your cheeks heated, and your heart fluttered at his words. Before you could respond, he slid his hands along your hips, pulling you closer until you were standing snug between his thighs. You opened your mouth—maybe to scold him, to remind him that you were at work, that anyone could walk in—but he pressed a finger to your lips, shaking his head slowly. “It’s quiet out there,” he said, tone soothing, as if this were perfectly normal. “You got a few minutes before your next patient, right?” You should have protested, but the feel of his warm hands skimming up your torso, gently pushing at the fabric of your scrub top, dissolved any argument. You knew this was dangerous. Yet, you also knew how good his touch felt, how he could ignite your nerves with the smallest gesture. As if reading your thoughts, Grizzy’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your scrub pants, hooking them just enough to slide his hand inside, finding the soft cotton of your underwear. Your breath caught. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, and whispered, “Let me take care of you… I know how much you’ve been working.”

Your knees felt weak. He was so close that his breath brushed your throat. With slow, deliberate patience, he pressed his hand firmly against you through the thin fabric of your panties. You bit your lip, instinctively leaning closer, chasing the pressure. Grizzy smirked, leaning in to kiss just under your jaw, a slow brush of his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. With another gentle tug, he slipped his hand inside your underwear, his fingers sliding through your growing wetness. You clamped a hand around his shoulder—so much for the fake injury—to steady yourself, biting back a soft moan. “Careful,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a rumble, “You gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone barging in.” You nodded, swallowing hard, the rational part of your brain screaming at how risky this was. But the rest of you—your body, your need for him—was screaming louder. You parted your legs as much as you dared, letting his fingers glide against your entrance, circling your clit with slow, teasing motions. Your breath stuttered, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as sparks of pleasure danced across your nerves. “Look at me,” Grizzy said softly. You forced your eyes open. His were filled with hunger and affection. He loved seeing you like this—helpless with want, struggling to maintain composure. He pressed a fingertip inside you, shallow at first, testing your response.

Your nails dug into his shoulder through his t-shirt, and you had to bite your bottom lip to muffle a gasp. He grinned—quiet triumph—and eased another finger in, pumping slowly. The wet sound of his fingers working you over threatened to undo your last thread of professionalism. You choked back a moan and, as if rewarding your restraint, he curled his fingers just right, pressing against that sweet spot that made your thighs tremble. “Nelson,” you mouthed silently, your voice failing you. His forearm flexed as he picked up the rhythm, thrusting his fingers in a smooth, steady pace. Every nerve ending seemed to focus on that delicious friction, every brush of his thumb over your clit making you pulse around him. Your vision blurred as the pleasure built, like a wave cresting inside you. He watched you intently, clearly enjoying how unravelled you’d become, right here in your workplace, your scrubs still mostly intact, your professional façade in tatters. “C’mon,” he coaxed quietly, “Just let go. I got you.” His voice was warm, steady, a stark contrast to the adrenaline racing through your veins. You pressed your face into his neck, muffling a whimper against his skin. He groaned softly, probably feeling the warmth of your breath, the gentle scrape of your teeth as you fought to stay silent. His fingers pumped faster, more insistent, and the tight coil of pleasure within you began to unwind.

Your legs shook, your free hand gripping the edge of the exam table for dear life. In that tiny room, behind a closed door, with every reason not to give in, you climaxed around his fingers, your body clenching, your breath stuttering. He didn’t let up right away, prolonging your pleasure with a few extra strokes until you trembled, your head spinning. You stayed like that for a few moments, heart hammering, his fingers still inside you, his other hand stroking your back soothingly. When you finally pulled away, you were flushed, and he wore a smile that was equal parts satisfied and affectionate. With a gentle withdrawal of his fingers, he straightened your underwear and scrub pants, smoothing the wrinkles as if nothing had happened. He even dared to lift his fingers to his own lips, tasting you with a slow, decadent lick. Your jaw dropped at his boldness, and he winked. You swallowed, managing a shaky whisper, “You’re insane. We could’ve been caught.” He just laughed softly, leaning in to steal another quick kiss. “Worth it.” His voice was low, rumbling, sending a pleasant aftershock through your body. “Guess we’re still… testing these waters, huh?” “Yeah,” you said, smiling despite yourself, “I guess we are.” And as he stood and adjusted his shirt, ready to slip out as if nothing unusual had happened, you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time.

The tension, the risk, the undeniable chemistry—none of it was going anywhere. You’d just have to get better at staying quiet.

[paeoniaanomala]

almost finished with s1 of tng i am struggling. having q withdrawals.. please tng give mw a q episode or a data episode or a lwaxana troi episode or hell even a dixon hill episode

[starheirxero]

I remembered a reblog you made that talked about computers that looked like they had been murdered and so I made this sketch of Lunar

hope you like it

PH!!!!!!!! F!!!! GH!!!!!!!!!!!!'!!!!!!!!!!!

LUNAR…… ROBOT GORE……. LOOKING LIKE HE GOT MURDERED…….!!!!!!!!!! IM!!!! SO!!!!! HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YES YES YESSSSS YIPPPEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ^_^

[prettyboishin]

EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING

I have news.

It will no longer be Reaver who I will not shut up about

EVERY ONE MEET MY NEW HUSBAND

THE RADIO DEMON ALASTOR

literally in love

Literally all I'm thinking rn I cant stop I actually have a prob-

[undercoverangell]

LOCAL POK KIN FOUND SHOT DEAD IN DITCH MORE AT 8

[rozetavivala]

Save me henpat… henpat save me..

[spideyhexx]

wait i read buddenbrooks for a history course last term......declining aristocrat tom........

how’s the book?? I just read a small summary and synopsis of some characters and I’m like…hm…he would fit into this…