#ITS SO FUCKING COO

[mangocatastrophe]

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK

https://youtu.be/uHb7au6Gmls?si=HU95QbmDP0JMriu6

[vaugarde]

havent seen this take in a while thankfully but it popped up in my head and i wanna post this anyways. i think everyone who talks about how siffrin “got off too easy” at the end of isat and his friends should have abandoned him should go read warrior cats if they want an example of a character using their trauma as their god-given jailbreak card to treat their family and peers (a good amount of whom who were completely innocent) like dogshit, and who faces zero consequences from the narrative for it (and in fact bends over to blame their peers). like read all the shit jayfeather does while the narrative sobs over how tragic but awesome and quirky he is and then look me in the eye and tell me siffrin’s ending was poorly written.

[to-the-all-blue]

On my walk home from the cafe I was thinking about Sanji (as one does) and how every influence in his life for 19 years screamed at him to hunker down, stay silent, and never appear weak.

As much as I love Zeff and know he loved Sanji, it's clear he has such a straight-laced and unflinching view of masculinity and what it means to be a man. The environment on the Baratie was an extension of that.

It was a machismo world where affection was hidden behind kicks to the head and insults. The kind of environment where cutting your hand or something gets a response of "what? You call that an injury? Don't cry over nothing". Where outright kindness has to be dragged out of people, and then immediately covered up with a half-baked insult.

Throw into that environmemt a little boy who is desperate to prove he's not the failure he was told he was, and out pops a man who wears his heart on his sleeve for "acceptable manly emotions" but who hides real emotions behind anger, and hides pain (physical or emotional) altogether so as not to seem weak.

Tack onto that the idea that the only surefire way to show love is through self sacrifice (his mom + Zeff), then of course Sanji will be all sorts of jacked up.

We see throughout the series how Sanji is so unwilling to be vulnerable or to even admit he's feeling hurt at all. Plaster a smile on, make some comment about loving women, and voila! He's the man's man everyone expects. No need to worry about him. After all: he's strong.

...🥺

[littleplantfreak]

mmmm umemiya who makes you put on a show for him. who pulls up a chair beside your bed and gently positions you on the mattress exactly where he wants you and tells you where to touch yourself and how. and you look so pretty, so perfect, he has to squeeze the armrests to prevent the urge to reach out to you. and HE looks absolutely edible, leaned back in the seat with his knees spread and his eyes darkened with lust and appreciation and his undivided attention focused purely on you.

You're being soooo good doing everything he's telling you to do but he can see your fingers just aren't hitting the right spots, which has him losing it a little bit. The longer it goes on the worse he gets, seeing how frustrated you look by how hard you're trying to follow his orders but just not reaching the high he wants to see. Once he sees a little tear run down your cheek he's given up, and just tosses his pants off at that point. He's got his fingers in you in seconds and you practically cum right then and there because that's the ticket, they know exactly where to go inside you.

[wetslug]

love babies <3 would love to hold an alive one soon

[daphnalia]

tori was fucking awesome but giving hermie/anthony/the literal joker a 4 is factually incorrect

[rapidhighway]

Me crying about how pretty charms on Etsy are expensive

Me buying a shitty i ♥️ gman sticker on redbubble one the same day

[triglycercule]

guys i havent written since may (for killer's birthday) but stupid silly swapinverse has been on my mind for a little bit and i threw together this silly (he has a panic attack and throws up) little short draft 4 swapinverse horror!!

-

“hah… ah… oh god… no, no, nonono…”

he ran. sprinted through the forest like a frightened deer, his demeanor that of prey, although his previous actions aligned more of a predator. panting and shaking, his mind cycled through countless variations of how to react to what just happened, what he just did.

how should he react? how could he react? it was impossible to tell for him in the panicked state. and as the trees in snowdin slowly began to surround him (but weren't they always doing that?), paranoia couldn't run anymore. he was surrounded, he was blocked off, he couldn't escape. not from horrortale, not from snowdin, not from the dusty graveyard he had just left it, and not from the blood smeared across his mouth.

“no, i- what did, what did i do? paps, snowdin, even-undick, no, it-”

paranoia’s incoherent rambles brought his hands to wander across his face, tugging at the massive hole in his skull spanning majority of the left side of his head. picking at the chipped bone didn't help, it never did, but a nervous habit was unbreakable, and he was more than nervous in this moment. in fact, quite terrified. everything was terrifying. he was terrifying. and as the slightest hint of red blood touched his sleeve, the once red, now magenta eye quickly locked onto it, and he couldn't hold it back anymore.

“fuck- oh god, no, aliza-!”

falling to his knees, a disgustingly gorey mess of red, pink, and black spilled from his mouth. sounds of retching and hurling were all that filled the empty forest, and paranoia couldn't bear to look down and see the mess he’d made. the mess he’s caused. wasted food, he would've said. but that statement normally only applied to others. he never imagined using it on himself. choking on his spit and certainly not his blood, tears fell from his eye, joining the vomit and blood seeping into the snow. strange. paranoia didn't think he had enough magic to even shed tears anymore. just for the bare necessities. he managed to surprise even himself, after all this time.

but could it be could be considered surprise, or rather terror? he fit up to his name, certainly horrified at his own actions. forcing out as much of the grossness he could that he’d just consumed, paranoia couldn't help but look down at what he’d done.

red. a lot of red. too much red. he’d never been queasy before, never. he had to adapt to it, being the one to hunt down humans that ran or sneak up on those when times got desperate. there was no time or need to be queasy at what he even considered his job before. a duty he had to do.

but now, there was too much red. far too much red. and he didn't know why, although he totally knew, but paranoia couldn't stomach it. he just threw his guts out (shouldn't they be aliza’s guts, or no?), and here he was, wanting to throw up until his SOUL shattered. his SOUL cycled through those strange 4 shapes, unsure of which to settle on. he couldn't blame it. paranoia himself was unsure of what was even going on anymore. he wanted to run, but was frozen. he wanted to scream, but didn't know who at.

everything was contradicting. everything was going on, and not enough was given for paranoia to understand how to deal with it. and with a muttered curse, he flopped on his side onto the somehow dry snow, losing consciousness in the haze of fear now intermingled with his SOUL.

-

ik theres probably grammar mistakes i wrote this on my phone,,,, but like idk. had idea for a little moment in paranoia's lore and i sure as hell didn't wanna draw it so i wrote it as an easier media! god this is so much easier compared to drawing idk why i dont do this more often (because youre lazy silly!) anyways swapinverse silly i love swapinverse. i've only thrown up like never so i dont know if this works. also never had a panic attack (i think) and AGAIN i dont know if this is accurate but whatever i dont write to be good i write for expressing my ideas. like everything i do

[bedforddanes75]

I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK I DIAL DRUNK I DIE A DRUNK

[ccaptain]

My brain: ok but listen... listen to me. this awesome idea, X and Y, so and so. let's start writing, yeah? right now. let's just write right now all I want to do is write Me: Me at literally 6AM: buddy.

[to-the-all-blue]

Reading a complete guide to falling in love (rec'd to me by @sanji-piss-hell bless up) and in the fic there is a scene where Sanji has to handle potentially poisonous fish and I was blasted with the thought: Sanji encounters the OP version of the golden poison frog and doesn't realize until it's A Problem that simply touching it can be lethal.

[southern--downpour]

mentally vibrating about genloss again. i really dont think the ending would have had that big of an impact on me if it hadnt been live and actively voted for by the audience there was no way to get across the feeling of “did i just help kill someone?” and the pure dread of that any better and its so fucking cool

[thattallqueerbassistresources]

@cuuno made this and its one of my favoritest things ever

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LOOK AT IT LOOK AT HOW CUTE IT IS ADSFDHGFJGDSADSGFDHFJGFDSASDFJGKH

[absentmoon]

love being called cute Except.

[ddazzlingblds-archive]

@loiyaltie said: i'm not perfect. none of us are. ( meme source. )

      there's something to this statement that echoes as incredibly funny, to him. it's a talent of his, to find even the most serious things hilarious, to a degree- and, if it was anyone else, anyone else at all- Sampo would have laughed in their faces.

      it'd be irresistible, the impulse to cackle. the list of silly things that he heard in his lifespan has been infinite- from boasting, to easily see-through lies that reeked of nervous sweat, to threats- be them redirected to his person for, ahem, obvious reasons, or to others. the most ridiculous one are spoken with a solemn voice- face kept stoic, acting as if they were grand, misurestood heroes eroded by dangerous situations that could have been avoided, and heaps of troubles that didn't asked to be carried on their backs.

      ridiculous, the lots of them. doing something heroic and brave hoping for a reward is, itself, far from noble. it's just normal , wanting to be rewarded for a good deed- why not speak it out loud? why not reap the spoils deserved, a payment for the trouble?

      if there's someone who can be truly called noble, it's Gepard Landau.

      for all his good deeds, for all of his services, for the strenuous defense of Belobog- there's no prize, no reward. duty, his selfish companion, has chewed at bones, flesh and muscles. it has cannibalized him from the inside out, also claiming the hollow husk that it left behind. never satisfied, never rewarding. duty is a neverending curse.

      it's with vindication that Sampo ripped the captain away from the monotonous routine that hollowed him. pleased and unrepentant, he dragged the real Gepard out of him, leaving the Landau title behind.

      and now, the silly half-smirk on his face tells many things to the blond. but what comes out is a tilt of his head, green eyes nothing but playfully curious. “ yeesh, that'd sure be something, ” there's a full body shudder, arms hugging himself as he feigns confusion and a slight tint of a disturbed expression.

      “ scary, scary! alien, even! can you imagine just- being perfect at everything? i bet it'd be exciting at first, sure- the rush of dopamine and all- but then it'd be a torment! kinda like a curse... brrr, that'd be weird, don'tcha think? ”

      spontaneous, as if he was seeking comfort, Sampo's head tilts to lay on Gepard's shoulder, his sigh pleased and content.

      “ luckily, you aren't perfect. not me, either! you're just Gepard- which is great. keep being not perfect, Gep. i like that in you. ”

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, mıssionary, praise, brēeding, petnames, mdni.

nanami who always finds himself in your sheets and between your legs after a long day at work.

“think i want a baby, ‘ken.”

and he took those six simple words personally. nanami’s giving you slow, languid strokes, rolling his hips against yours. he groans at your nails clawing all down his back. as you briefly meet his gaze, you’re met with the most kindest, fawn eyes. all you saw in them were nothing but pools of love with a sprinkle of lust. “oh,” he huskily grunts, hearing the sloshing wet stretch deep into your cunt. he’s stunned for a bit before going deep into imagination. the thought of making your cute tummy all swollen and rounded, it makes him gnaw on his lip like candy.

“my love,” he swallows thickly, a familiar lump forming into the back of his throat. nanami leans into you, his rhythm growing more and more sloppy. you’re jerking back, an ankle of yours sliding down the red lines of his back and he grunts. “c- careful now, might give you more than just one.” and he could have came right then and there—all from relishing in your beauty. he’s never laid his eyes upon anything more pretty.

your knees then get righteously shoved up to your chest. soft, browned eyes flicker at the valley between your breasts before glancing back toward your shimmery spit-slicked lips. you moan, tossing your arms over his shoulders. “i missed my girls,” he groans, stuffing his face between your chest for a moment. your breath immensely hitches at the feeling up him licking a single stripe, still deeply plummeting such inches in and out of your weeping cunt. “they missed me too,” he purrs in a raspy coo, speaking to your tits, and that’s when he latches his plump lips against your perky nipple for a short second. “m-mh.”

the air felt hot — humid, feverish even with each breeze that passes. as warm, kinetic bodies clash against each other at individual hyper strokes, he pries himself off of you. nanami’s jaw tightens so much from your soddened grip that it almost aches. “sweetheart,” he hisses, peering his eyes down to see the milky white ring already coating around his base. it’s probably been hours, hours of you prettily sprawled out for him with your legs open. docile, tawny irises lovingly gaze into you as a thumb of yours strum down his neatly ruffled undercut. “f- fuck, i want you so bad. missed my girl. missed my pussy.”

“she’s missed you too ‘ken,” you pull him into a hot kiss, tasting the mint that lingers on his breath. and as his thrusts grew more sloppy, you whine, feeling his jutting cock kiss against your most sweetest spots. your heart flutters, slithering its way around his waist in a secure lock. “fuck me kento, d- don’t stop, pleaseee.”

“never gonna stop for you, my love,” he huffs, chest heaving in and out. the more he stares at you, the more he falls in love.

through glossed eyes that shimmer with such infatuation—he’s taking in your beauty, your fervor.

nanami loves more than anything to just gawk at you, watching as your eyes droop, your neck crane, and even the way your brows crease into a furrow due to such rapturing pleasure. only he could make you feel this way—you and him both knew that. nobody knew your body like the back of their hand except nanami. your body was his personal canvas, he’s always loved to decorate it and paint it with various, chaste kisses.

to him, you were art. he’s hitting you deep, blurbs and blurbs of whimpers dragging out of your throat until it sounds like inaudible meaningless babbles. so pretty,

repeatedly, the base of his cock perfectly hits against there, leaving you with your jaw hanging open and your entire body being stuck into a limited dimwitted state. he fucks you silly every time, you whimper as a lightening pulse from his cock twitches inside of you, plugging you full.

over and over and over,

nanami blows into your mouth, and you hear a throaty chuckle before he presses yet another wet kiss against your lips. “wanna see you nice ‘n plump s-so bad. gonna give you triplets, my sweet.” and you’re just stupefied, barely a single thought was stored up into your empty, vacant brain. nanami sucks against your bottom lip, still steadily rocking his way into your sloppy cunt. you feel the juncture of his hips mercilessly thrust its way into you raw and you gasp. “right . . here?”

pleasure overtakes you so good that you barely even noticed he was talking to you. you’re too busy moaning your head off and a soft smile pierces against both sides of his lips. a few faint dimples poke against his skin before he grabs your chin. “sweetheaaaart, ‘m talkin’ to you, hey,” and once your eyes meet his mid-thrust, his heart swarms up with love and desire. “there we go. atta girl, yeah. ‘s this spot? this feel good?”

“y- yes,” you whimper, nodding eagerly. he was so big and thick, the prolongated stretch had you drooling. nanami glances at your hand. gingerly bringing it toward his lips, he kisses it, giving it a tender mwah. “kento, ‘m gonna cum a-again.”

“i know, pretty,” he groans, grabbing onto your hand. giving it a firm squeeze. you do the same, interlocking a bundle of fingers with his. his grip was gentle and warm, frantic heartbeat haphazardly picking up speed the more you get a feel of his familiar touch once more. nanami’s always slow with you,

he doesn’t wanna rush this — he hadn’t dreamt of it. already feeling you tighten around him, he invades a strip of your sensitive neck with a plethora of passionate, amorous kisses. “you always taste the same,” and you moan, sobbing cunt gripping down on him so good that it whimpers out a pitchy squelch of its own. his lolled twitching tongue licks against the edge of your shoulder blade once more and your back arches in ecstasy.

he’s never been more in love, with your body arching up backwards at his sweet, sweet hits, you were so close to becoming undone. every pivot of nanami’s hips snap you back to reality before you whine out a needy mewl, tangled digits combing through his unkempt, blond strands. “kento, fuuuuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“together, my l-love,” his voice falters, and his adam’s apple starts to bob. each delicious thrust of his collapses into your body in such mirroring sync. the rapid, frenzied movements were in complete harmony and beads of running sweat sticks against each skin. nanami gruffly groans, preparing to get milked again, you always did it so so well. squeezing his eyes shut, both broad hands cling onto your hips as he grinds against your core. “c’mon, make a mess on me. ‘m gonna clean you up, promise. give it to me, please.”

your moans were so harmonic, each sound that left your throat coming out to be more elongated. with his cock pounding in and out, he starts to slow his pace down — seeping his teeth into your tender collarbone softly. sharp tips of your fingernails continue to paw at the beefiness of his biceps before within seconds, it happens.

with your lips forming into a lewd circular shape, you’re creaming all down his thickset of a shaft. “kentoooo,” you whine out, feeling your soaked walls clench all around him. he holds you tight, allowing you to form into a puddled mess before he shortly follows. nanami groans, tossing his head forward before a translucent ring bubbles around his heavy base. it comes out in oozing spurts, hot cum pouring into your womb raw.

“ngh, always have me bein’ such a mess for you,” he grunts, pretty arched brows curling up together. nanami sucks at the air, witnessing as your legs grow numb, gluing against his skin. “ah, ‘s gonna be a lot. hold still ‘n take it. take it like a good girl,” and he leans into you, cupping the curvature of your face. “make me proud, baby. thaaaaat’s it. eyes on me, eyes on kento.”

nanami feels a wave of drowsiness dawn over him as he stills himself inside of you. he’s panting right with you, a thumb hooks a strand of hair back toward your face. a school of butterflies flutter inside of you as he’s still dumping a sticky load of velvety thin ropes into your greedy pussy. it’s deeply spewing down alongside of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck. “i- i love you ‘ken.”

“i love you more,” he whispers, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face. he hums at the tiny pout that’s displayed on your lips. you’re underneath him, succumbing into such an orgasmic state that you could barely keep your lashes open. nanami’s not moving anymore but he’s still buried balls deep. a big clammy hand ghosts over your tummy before he nips at your chin. “you’re gonna be such a pretty mommy,” and with a final kiss, you feel him slowly lifting up your leg, tossing it over his shoulder.

and as you gasp, watching him switch positions— nanami then pulls out a wedding ring, sliding it over your bare finger. “but you’d be an even prettier wife.”