#In Wes Ball we trust

[xplore-the-unknwn]

NOA AND MAE ARE NEVER BEATING THE ROMANCE ALLEGATIONS 😆😭

vid by @dewiidrop on Tiktok

Even Tiktok got crazy over them. The comments had me gagging. 😫

“deadass like why did I feel like they was about to fuck the whole time” comment got me 😭

Wes what have you done 😆 The chemistry got us all feral for them. Whatever hes doing- let him cook!!

[hinamie]

limbo

[b0tsbby]

Ya know the drill the tumblr girlies get B0ts art first

( i had to do this in two days for Comic Con don’t hold me to it🛌💀)

[veryaren]

reaction image for when short fur affinity kleptomaniac won't put your cravat down

[polkaraton]

We gotta talk about the end of this video from one of Steven Ogg's Q&A sessions.

He speaks of two scenes that didn't make it into the game; The Sharmoota Job, which we knew about, and a "super intense" scene of Trevor and Michael bawling their eyes out?? What?!

Rockstar, release the crybaby cut!!!

[castiels-undercoat]

CW sniper public execution, 4k, ultra HD, graphic detail

[ghosty-schnibibit]

my opinion about the watcher news basically boils down to this:

watcher is screwing over a huge portion of its fanbase with this move considering how many people within it are teenagers who may not have access to streaming services, low-income adults who can't afford yet another streaming service (if any), and international fans who couldn't sign up for a US based streaming service even if they wanted to. it's okay to be angry about this, especially if you're one of those people who now can't support shows you loved or will be unable to see any of those shows going forward because of it.

and

youtube's payout to creators has dwindled in recent years to the point that it is impossible to fund the kind of productions watcher makes purely through it, and in order to sustain a company of 40+ people they need a more stable source of income not reliant on ads from outside companies and patreon, which, in this case, means a pivot to streaming. it's okay to be upset that creators you like have to turn to such methods to continue funding their work, whether you have the means to support them through these avenues or not.

and

if the early reactions to this move are any indication, watcher will probably not get the fan buy-in they anticipated and in all likelihood the new streaming site will either fail within a year or two because it isn't making enough money and take the company with it or they'll be bought out by a larger company and have their shows archived or deleted for tax purposes like what's happened to roosterteeth. it is okay to be scared by that potential future and seek to preserve as much content as you can before that happens.

are all statements that can and should coexist

[harmonybarmy]

Ben coming back to the cabin to see yet another cannibalistic ritual

[mondglocke]

I just finished the 4.2 Archon Quest and i can't help but continue to be suspicious of Zhongli for being the only version of him to ever exists in Teyvat.

There are the nameless Bard and Venti.

There are Makoto and Ei.

There are Rukkhadevata and Nahida.

and now Focalors and Furina.

Every Archon has some kind of Double or Doppelganger, or simply a Mirrorself - someone who LOOKS and acts like the first or tries to live the former dreams, goals and ideals. They aren't the only one with their face, there were at some point two of them in Teyvat (As if they were twins, but only one remained...well, in case of makoto and ei that's literally what happend but you get it) There already once was someobody conscious with the Face the current Archon wears.

Except for Zhongli. He is the only one with a face that belongs just to him. There is no counterpart or mirror, no friend or sibling, he didnt split himself into two, his face is unique and yet he is also the only one who keeps it hidden in every cutscene...

[xplore-the-unknwn]

Owen Teague posting his own Planet of the Apes fanart on IG

This was his Christmas post, please thats soo cute and the caption being "Ooh Ooh ah" hes so precious 😭😳

I just love the enthusiasm he and Kevin Durand have for their roles being apes. Its just so wholesome when you see actors being inspired so much by the film making experience. Movie magic yall ✨

I hope we get to see him soon in the sequels. Noa has a long journey ahead and I hope he gets to be the leader hes meant to be!

[valentine-writes]

Can you do enemies to lovers with 1016 Miles?? :3

[ this will be my last req for this account, moving to my new blog officially once this one is up! catch me on @l0vem41l <3 reqs will be open there when i'm ready ＞︿＜ ]

overachiever

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, burnout, reader also attends visions academy, reader is trying so so hard to not be mean and fails (im so sorry), one-sided academic rivalry, author doesn't know how american schools work (i am so so sorry), comfort (?) 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3」

↳ ft. miles morales (1610)

author's note: YES I CAN!!! however,, i put a lil twist on the prompt given and made it academic rivalry (i genuinely cant find a viable reason to beef w/ miles i am so sorry (-﹏-；) !!) anyways! hope this works with you!!! soz itz so short!!! :[[

"wow," your friend's eyes light up, scanning over your test results, "...you've gotta be like, the smartest person i know."

you laugh politely, smiling at them as they hand your paper back. "no, it's really not that big of a deal–"

"what do you mean 'not that big of a deal?! dude, you got 100% on a test most people failed." your friend shoves their paper in your face as evidence– a 57% in red on theirs. "that's like... the highest grade achievable. probably the highest in cla–"

"THIS GUY GOT A 101%!"

everyone turns to the voice– the loud kid who sat behind miles eyeing his test.

you blinked in disbelief. you didn't even know getting extra credit was possible on this one.

miles looked up at the faces of his staring peers faces filled with disbelief and slight annoyance, and fumbled to set his test face down on his desk. he flashed an awkward grin "uh... yeah?"

-

▸ you liked miles. he was friendly. sweet. genuine. you couldn't hate him if you wanted to. no, you didn't feel hate towards him. it was just... jealousy. simple, petty, burning jealousy.

▸ visions academy was something you had to work your ass off for, constantly studying just to stay on the level of the students who attended. NERDS. all of them were nerds. but you were attending this school too sooo,,,

and then there was miles. someone who barely even had to try to get the highest grades. he had you seething.

▸ the most humiliating part was the fact that he had little to no interest in competing with you at all. the few times you had spoken were awkward and curt on your end, and yes– it felt awful being so mean for something as small as personal resentment.

▸ nothing justified your one word responses or the accidental snark that would slip into those few words. you mentally kicked yourself for the times you watched his grin falter because of something you said, miles awkwardly trying to laugh off whatever cold remark you just shot at him.

he'd walk away, dejected, and you'd stand there for a moment– frozen as you fought the urge to run up to him and try to explain yourself or beg for forgiveness. it didn't make sense to at this point. maybe he'd just accept this was the way you were– the way things would be between you two.

▸ so yes, perhaps in your pursuit of favouring school over every other aspect of your life, your social skills were left rotting and underdeveloped. but you knew, deep down, it wasn't just you being awkward.

being around him made you feel small. talking to someone, radiating the aura of someone with a promise-filled future made you look completely directionless and clueless in comparison. the effort you put into your academics was almost repulsive to think about when miles could take a test with a blindfold on and probably still score 90s.

maybe it was the deep set fear that you'd never amount to anything if you didn't burn yourself out trying. all of a sudden, the academic validation of being good wasn't enough. not when you were one of the best once.

▸ you spent an absurd amount of time trying to avoid him, deliberately moving to the furthest corners of the library so he wouldn't see you there struggling to wrap your head around whatever you were being taught in physics.

heavens above forbid that he walk up to you, greeting you with that sunny smile and cheerful voice that could make anyone falter. you may have been jealous of him– but oh, how you hated that feeling that way when he nothing but well-meaning.

-

the last sip of your coffee– long cooled by now thanks thermodynamics– did nothing to make you feel less dead. you had lost track of the time you had spent practically decomposing in this library, studying for an upcoming physics test that had you reeling just by the mere thought of it.

you sighed, staring at the papers strewn on the desk. your hands fidgeted with the pencil in your hand, it's eraser and tip rendered flat and useless by now, as you tried to muster the energy to gather your things to leave. it was much too late. the library would be closed soon and you'd be forced to go back home to study at your own desk in your bedroom.

this was routine. go to school, study in the library until it gets dark, and go home to study more– the next day, you'd find yourself still awake and studying or with a headache, your cheek pressed to the desk, and drool on your notebook. yeah. your bed hasn't been used in a solid while. and science homework isn't exactly the comfiest pillow. but this is what you were used to.

standing up, you stretched out a bit– and immediately froze as a familiar voice called your name. you paused, reluctantly turning to the source of the voice.

"...god, morales–" you huffed, "you nearly scared me half to death."

this is the friendliest you've been towards him in a while, he notices, as you flash him a tiny, crooked smile on your tired face. all potential malice you could have held had been beaten out by your absolute lack of energy.

he approaches you and looks at your desk, considering what to say to fill the silent air. he places a hand on your shoulder, you stiffen–

"hey." miles flashes a grin, not his signature smile but,, somewhat of a forced smolder.

you stare and resist the urge to cringe, wondering if you were sleep deprived to the point of hallucinations. you gently brush his hand off your shoulder.

"...hi?" you respond, unsure of what to do.

miles is snapped out of whatever stupid trance he was in by your voice.

"oh– uh– yeah, hey," he repeats your name again, trying to recover from whatever that was, "is– is everything okay?"

"i could ask you the same thing."

he lets out a little chuckle. "you know what i mean. all... this." miles' hand gestures vaguely to your desk and current state of complete entropy. "how long have you been here?"

you avert your gaze, shame burning in your face. "i... don't know?"

a pause.

miles places a hand on your back this time, in an attempt of friendly comfort. geez, are they keeping you locked in here?" he quips, earning half of a dry laugh from you. "c'mon. you should probably get home and rest by now."

"but–" your lips part in protest, looking back up at him to argue– but he just looks back, concern filled in his dark doe-like eyes. all possibilities of fighting him on this were out the window.

"you need it." he insists, a gentle smile forming on his face. much better than the weird smoulder from earlier, you think. "i'll even walk you there."

before you can speak up, he moves away from you, beginning to help you gather up your things to pack up. you mumble a silent thank you to him, which he accepts happily with a nod.

as he hands over the papers, his eyes scan them. "oh! physics? i love physics."

"no shit, morales." you scoff, snatching up the papers from him and stuffing them in your bag. "it sure seems to love you."

yet again, you've managed to mess things up. you bite the inside of your cheek before you can say anything worse. a sigh escapes your lips, as you decide to at least try and save the interaction.

"look... i'm really sorry. it's been a rough day, i've been struggling to get the concepts down, i'm falling behind and feeling stupid as hell right now, and– to make everything worse, the fucking test is just stressing me out and i just– i just..." you trail off from your ramblings, a sob getting caught in your throat as your shaky hands grip your backpack.

"woah, woah, hey– it's okay."

he slowly puts an arm around your shoulder, careful not to startle you or make you uncomfortable. you don't even realize how you lean into him. "let's just get you home. you've done your best, yeah?"

you nod. he offers you a little smile.

"exactly. and that's enough. okay? you're doing more than you can handle right now." there's a few more shared words as he reassures you.

part of him wonders how long this had been going on– how long you had been working yourself until you broke– mainly because that test that was stressing you out was more than a week away. yeah. he'd need to convince you to watch after yourself more often.

-

"and now a silly one!!!" (more lighthearted hcs below for the aftermath of this becuz goodness me.)

▸ things definitely ease up around miles. if he can't convince you to step away from your work, he's chosen to be able to regulate it.

studying with him in a local cafe is now a frequent thing you two do together. miles always gives you time to work, but will then ever so subtly lure you into moving on from your work to hang out with him normally. and it works. every single time. you might start in the library or cafe, but where you'll be later? always a mystery.

whether it's a walk in the park, going back to his place to chat, or finding some random activity to do, you find yourself bonding with him more and more. your jealousy begins to fade, finding a friend in him instead of someone you have to one up.

▸ you both spontaneously decided to see a new horror movie once and accidentally got miles in trouble with his parents for coming home after curfew. and he'd 100% do it again in a heartbeat if you asked.

▸ no matter what you get on that next test, miles is going to congratulate you like it's the best he's ever seen. he's overjoyed to share your achievements, to celebrate them like no one in your life ever has.

miles holds up his test as you tell him your grade. "you got a 92? hey look– me too!"

a snarky voice speaks up, "well, i got a 98% so–"

"no one was talking to you." miles retorts.

you press a hand to your mouth and look away, trying to stifle laughter. was he always this sassy or did you just end up rubbing off on him?

▸ you both end up being extra studious for the next test (breaks included this time) and he's sure to be extra loud about congratulating you for your perfect 100%

maybe the sass wasn't all you,,, but the minor pettiness definitely is your influence. it's actually not. miles is pretty easygoing,, but man did he not like when that random ass kid gave you attitude.

you smile at miles, ensuring to do the same for him if not, a little louder

"what? 'm complimenting you." you tilt your head at miles' stunned expression.

for a moment, he stumbles over his words. "i know– you just– i didn't expect that from you, so–"

you laugh. "what? you want me to go back to being mean or something?"

miles laughs too. it's hard not to stare at the way he lights up a room like this.

▸ things feel lighter now. you've made social progress with others, you have a life beyond just school– and you have miles. part of you wonders if you'll ever be able to tell him just how much he means to you and how you wish you could've just been his friend from the start.

sometimes, in the corner of his eye, he catches your wistful stare. and though he doesn't utter a single word, you start to feel that he cherishes you just as much.

[drmystarsanctum]

hello frens............ here is a droodle i did today in class!!!!!

i haven't drawn him in a while so it was nice drawing him again :)

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[pikbro]

big news: i work on an fnf mod. bigger news: i got hairdresser octopus into said fnf mod

i redesigned that one bf cosplay design i made a while back and made his sprites

@pixelaves made the gif of his animations for me everyone say thank you pix

also my friend dollie animated the idle and made concepts for the left and right poses for me everyone say thank you dollie

heres a link to fnf weekly, hes a playable character in rhythm rally teehee

[ctlmd]

Phum Peem Hanky Panky Proof!

and other thoughts...

Peem pecks Phum in response to his subtle declaration of love, and Phum asks for more. When Peem gives him only a little more, he shows that he clearly wants a lot more by straddling Peem.

Peem is still asking for food, so to make his hunger clear, Phum shimmies lower on Peem's lap, likely to align his firmness where Peem will get the message!

When Peem says, "Stop." Phum realigns to let Peem know he does not want to stop, and the way he looks at Peem is like 'do you get it now?" And Peem gets it! He welcomes his kiss when Phum pins him down.

As Phum takes his button down off, Peem pulls his arms forward likely to reach for Phum's neck when he returns. We know Peem loves to hold Phum's neck when they kiss.

We don't know what they did, but it was something! And it probably wasn't the first time judging by the way Phum confidently brought their dicks together while looking expectantly into Peem's eyes. He knew Peem would choose him over food. Was Peem's bedroom after the volunteer camp the first time?

What ever happened....they changed their pants before they went to eat the seafood feast!

This series has captured my attention, and I am obsessed to see how Peem and Phum end up. But it bothers me that Peem never apologized to Phum for the unguarded kick to the balls. And adding insult to injury by laughing at him and asking if his dick was "ruined." That was horrible.

What Phum did to Peem to start the situationship off was an accident!

Everything Peem did to Phum on the soccer field was intentional!

I get it that Peem has to trust Phum for their relationship to evolve, but I don't get why Phum trusts Peem around his balls after what he has already done! That was cruel and heartless. Phum has apologized for all of his wrongdoings and missteps. Now, it is Peem's turn!

[theslowestpoke]

Today's useless teen wolf AU is everything is essentially the same except they live in Louisiana instead of California.

Stiles' dad is the sheriff of their parish, somewhere inoffensively middle-north like Rapides so they're surrounded by the national forest and still close to the Red River. It's a perfect place to hide a giant magic tree, for the record, and the bayou is no place for two teenagers to go stumbling around looking for a dead body. Best case you find it before the gators find you; worst case, your best friend gets his ass chomped by a rougarou.

Everyone knows the legends - the stories older siblings tell you with a lot less warning than your grandmother ever did - but they're just stories, right?

Except now that Stiles is really paying attention, there's way weirder stuff in the medicine cabinets at the vet clinic than you'd really need for dogs and cats and the bright blue paint on the outside of the building might be more than just an aesthetic choice for the doctor who always seems to know more than he's willing to tell.

When a family comes to town with their pretty daughter and French last name, Scott's already head-over-heels before Stiles can point out that there's bigger fish to fry. Lydia Martin is hosting the annual crawfish boil at her family's manor ("for charity," like they don't have their hands dirty from running a chain of river-boat casinos on the Red) and Scott needs to get his new claws in check if he's wants to steer clear of Argent. The hunter's been asking around in quick, clipped creole about all the recent rumors of black panther sightings, but Stiles knows that's not what he's really asking.

When the kanima starts wreaking on the town, Deaton sends Stiles to the graveyard to fetch a bag of dirt from his own mother's grave. He promises it will protect them and keep the kanima from escaping the rave, but only after Stiles accuses him of trying to use Claudia's memory in a curse. It works, but nothing else does, and Stiles has to break the line of goofer dust to let Isaac and Erica escape. He's definitely remembering that for the future.