#Not SW

[lesbisoka]

the fact that this matches their faces exactly

[vee-nyx]

sorry to my star wars/marvel followers but i just need to talk about A Quiet Place: Day One for a minute because i feel like it’s one of the first mainstream “end of the world” movies that taps into the potential storylines of people with chronic illness/pain. like one of my first thoughts anytime i watch a movie where infrastructure collapses and transportation goes out i run through a mental list of pharmacies in my area and think about which ones i could reach on foot within a day. or how obstacles that just inconvenience other travelers could fully stop me from getting my prescription. i worry about how different pharmacies are organized and if they’d have enough of my specific medication to get me through however long it takes for the world to come back, if it ever does. Lupita acted that feeling so well, and her outlook on the apocalypse was so different than any other character i’d seen because Sam already knew she was dying, and she was going to die whether or not the creatures came. so she’s not worried about getting to safety or trying to rebuild a life, because she’s been preparing to leave life behind for years now. she just wants to be in her home neighborhood in places with good memories and good food, and go out on her own terms instead of waiting for the disease to catch up to her. she couldn’t just do that before the arrival, though, but she can once what was left of her life collapses and she knows everything she loves (Frodo, memories of her father, her poetry) is safe with someone she trusts. it’s such a reverse plot to the usual apocalypse where everyone’s fighting for long-term survival and trying to rebuild what they lost, while Sam takes her losses in stride and slowly relinquishes her important belongings to Eric so she can die in peace. god it’s just such a genius reversal of the usual fight-for-your-life storyline with huge untapped potential that i hope inspires other movies to explore similar plots because there’s so many directions a writer could take with a chronically ill character in an apocalyptic situation, and i would love to see a horror/scifi subgenre of people with chronic illness in survival situations. okay that’s all.

[go-see-a-starwar]

No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

[captaingondolin]

i forgot to go feral on main for my og little meow meow, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. who has been dead for 233 slutty slutty years (sorry, could not resist) and just DROPPED SOME NEW MUSIC

(well, technically some nerds were re-transcribing stuff from his catalogue and found new compositions, here's one article about it)

HERE'S THE VERY FIRST PERFOMANCE IN LIKE 200 YEARS

let's all be grateful it's happening now and not a while ago, because as a kid/early teen i would have been abso-fucking-lutely unbearable

[poibynt]

It makes sense that the HTTYD Vikings wouldn’t know this while they were fighting for their lives against Furious’ forces but….Furious declared war on ALL of humanity right?? Did he just start with the Vikings and the Americas have no fucking clue what might be about to hit them? Is everyone else just chilling or did HTTYD become an alternate history series off screen while dragons stole Visigoth valour and fridged the Roman Empire hundreds of years earlier? Aka were their multiple fronts to the red rage that attacked other human societies or did Furious pile all of his forces on the Vikings? Is this a post apocalypse novel set in America where secretly the rest of the world is totally fine and the Americans don’t know?

[lesbidin]

[cockdestroyersofcoruscant]

just a motherrrrr and her half demonic child (shes the demon half)

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

I'm like an ominous beacon of repressed sadness

[beastiesandsundries]

Slightly Better (tm) skyrim sexyman. Ft. my corprus scarred nerevarine headcanon.

My goal was the have his warpaint (or tattoos) mirror the ridges of the scars in a way. Probably gonna revisit this design 1000 times

[ghosts-of-rishi]

Anyway, do you all ever come across people shipping a certain character with other characters or self inserts into cutesy conventional relationships, as if the character's ability to care for people in the conventional sense clearly didn't completely die alongside that one specific person? (or was never there to begin with). And half the point of them is that they would never get past this, consciously or not, and they would just have to live with it, not in spite of it? Can there ever be a "detached" character with actual nuance outside of that detachment that doesn't get "fixed" by someone who blissfully ignores who they are because they find them hot?

[kaminocasey]

As Luck Would Have It

A/N: HELLO IM BACK??? AND WITH PETER B. PARKER SMUT??? Crazy, wild. lol. After MONTHS of not writing anything, I give you this.

Pairing: Peter B. Parker x Assassin!Reader

Summary: Your husband is Spider-Man. You're an assassin and he doesn't know. However, while it does complicate things, you try to keep him safe from your boss. Unfortunately, complications arise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut, oral (f receiving), biting, fingering, Peter has a Daddy Kink, very light choking, light angst

WC: 2.1K │ TAGLIST FORM │Marvel Sideblog: @stevengrantnotrogers

(Pics from pinterest)

The morning light pours into yours and Peter’s bedroom making you beat your first alarm of the day. You groan slightly into your pillow, prepared to get up and start your day. There’s a lot to do today since you have to run over to-

“Uh uh. Stay.” Your husband, Peter’s, warm hands pull you toward his even warmer frame, engulfing you. 

You lean back a little bit to give him a sleepy kiss with a chuckle. “Got too much to do, babe. I’m sorry.” 

“Nope. You don’t. I said so.” He grins into your neck, breathing you in.

“So clingy.” You playfully roll your eyes.

“Don’t forget about bossy.” He kisses your bare shoulder. 

“Ah, yeah. Definitely can’t forget that one.” You laugh. 

“How about I give you incentive to stay?” Peter whispers hotly against your ear. 

You can’t help but bite your lip. “What kind of incentive?”

“The kind where I make you cum 3 times on my face before I fuck you into this bed.” He bites your earlobe, his fingers already starting to trail dangerously low toward your panties. “Would that be okay?” 

“Y-yeah… Pete… I think that would be more than-” You start to agree before Peter’s other hand pulls your face toward his own and he slides his fingers down to tease your already wet folds. “Fuck…” 

He growls into the kiss. “God, you’re so fucking wet for me already. So needy, aren’t you?”

You nod, a little pathetically you might add, against his face as he starts to kiss you again. To anyone else, Peter seems so goofy and like he wouldn’t be a very dominant type. But he never ceases to surprise you. 

“Tell daddy how bad you want it.” He whispers against your lips, holding your throat softly. 

The moment you try to tell him how badly you need him, to be full of him, he slips a long slender finger into you and you can’t help the whine that escapes your lips. He smirks against your lips as he pulls his fingers out just to push them back in repeatedly until you’re begging for more.

“T-tongue…” You beg, breathlessly. 

He chuckles darkly. “That’s not how you ask for things, is it baby?” 

“P-please… Peter…” You grind down against his hand, begging for any sort of friction, needing that release.

He curls his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you and you buck against his hands sharply. 

“Please what?” He asks, clearly enjoying this way too much. 

You look up at him, eyes dark with lust for your husband. “Pl-please… use your tongue…” 

He chuckles and kisses your temple. “Good girl.”

Peter slides his finger out of you and moves down your body as you settle against the pillows. He slips your panties down your legs, tosses them to the floor, and then bites the inside of your thigh making your back arch up away from him. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. 

He moans at the sight of your bare cunt and looks up at you, making eye contact as he starts to lick a long stripe up your folds.

“Fuck… Pete…” You whimper, your hand flying to his hair to anchor yourself to him. 

He groans against your warmth as your grip in his hair tightens. Unable to help it, you smirk down at him. He shoots you a wink and your whole body goes ablaze. 

After all this time together, you’re still incredibly hot for each other. After meeting in college and being married for almost 10 years, you truly can’t get enough of each other. He’s your best friend and you’re his. 

Peter’s tongue finds your clit and you grip his hair again, making him growl as he tightens his grip on your thighs so rough, you’re sure to bruise. 

“Fuck that’s so good.” You moan. 

Unfortunately, the sound of your phone ringing, specifically the tone that you have for your boss, starts to ring out into the room, immediately killing the mood. 

“God, he’s the fucking worst.” Peter groans into your thigh, resting his cheek against it, looking up at you.

You shrug, breathlessly. “I know, I know… I’m sorry…” 

You lean over toward your nightstand and pull your phone off the charger and answer your boss. 

“Hello?” 

“I need you here. Now.” His deep voice demands. 

You know you can’t say no. 

“On it.” You reply and he hangs up.

Peter lets go of you and moves back up toward his side of the bed. He still thinks you work in publishing, because if he knew the real you… he probably wouldn’t love you anymore. And you’ve been doing everything you possibly can to protect him from your boss. So far, you’ve been lucky.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You kiss him on the cheek and get up, quickly getting dressed. 

“It’s okay. Let me know if you’ll be home for dinner and I’ll go pick us something up.” He gets up and comes to kiss you on the lips.

“I love you, you know that?” You look up at him, smiling.

“Duh.” He winks.

You roll your eyes, smirking. He always seems to keep a good attitude about things when your boss makes you come in at all hours. Today, though, you thought you weren’t going to be needed. Biggest downside to being too good at your job, you suppose. 

You finish getting ready and then give Peter one more kiss and leave the house, getting on your motorcycle that Peter keeps begging you to sell so you guys can get a Prius (not happening). 

As you speed into the city, toward Fisk tower, traffic and the weather luckily seem to be on your side today and you make it there in record time. 

When you park your bike in front of the building, the doorman, Harold, greets you just like he does every morning. Despite working for such a morally questionable man, he and his wife are the sweetest people.

“Morning, sweetheart.” He smiles. 

“Hi, Harold. How’s Caroline?” You ask as you hold your helmet in one hand. 

“She’s good. She says hello and that you need to come by for dinner soon.” He playfully scolds you.

“If Fisk lets me have a day off, I promise to take you guys up on that.” You wink and walk into the building, toward the glass elevators, hitting the top button so that it takes you straight to Fisk himself.

You look out at the city, missing Peter already, just like you always do. You can’t stop thinking about the way he reacted when you pulled his hair. 

Ugh. Get it together. You know better than to think of Peter here. 

Before the golden elevator doors even open, you can hear Fisk shouting at someone on the phone. 

Great… 

The doors open and Fisk looks up at you. 

“Sir.” You nod. 

“Do I look like a fucking idiot?” He points at you.

You shake your head. “No, why?”

He shakes his own head, pacing back and forth.

“Osborn seems to think so. He’s lucky I haven’t had him taken care of yet…” 

You’re waiting for Fisk to get on with his point, hoping he’ll make it there soon. You know better than to interrupt him when he’s fuming like this. 

“He can’t get a grip… he’s becoming a loose end. Go threaten him. Make him shit his pants if you have to.”

The Green Goblin… that’s who he’s sending you up against. You’re an assassin… You’re not equipped to go up against that.

“Sir, I’m not-” You start to voice your concerns.

Fisk’s head shoots up, staring at you. “Take some of the guys with you if you have to. Believe it or not, Norman is sweet on you.”

Jesus… The way he says it, he almost seems amused.

“Right. Okay.” You nod and head down to the garage to rally up some of the guys, deciding to take two of the SUVs. 

“We’re going to pay Osborn a visit.” You tell Johnny, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice. 

“Oh great…” Johnny whistles and rallies up 8 other guys.

You hop in the front passenger seat of Johnny’s SUV. It’s a quiet ride to Osborn’s apartment. You’re trying to figure out what you’re going to say to a man who seems like he’s on the verge of killing an entire city almost any chance he gets. 

The ride goes by quicker than you’d like and you hop out when Johnny pulls up to the front of Norman’s building. They all wait for your signal. 

“I’ll go in, try to talk him down. You guys be out in the hall ready to strike if you hear any signs of trouble.” You tell them. 

They all nod and you head up toward the top floor of Osborn’s, your gun is in the inside of your black leather jacket along with a few daggers. It’s usually all you need. But this… this makes you nervous. 

As you get to the door, you knock on the front door and find it's already open. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he won’t be home. 

A crash comes from somewhere in the apartment. No, you didn’t think you’d be that lucky. The guys all raise their guns, ready.

“Norm?” You call out into the apartment. “You okay?”

You hear loud clattering and walk back to the source of it, finding Norman skittering around his lab, mumbling to himself angrily. 

“N-Norm?” You say, in the doorway, prepared to grab your gun if you need to.

Norman Osborn looks up at you. His demeanor relaxes when he sees you but his eyes stay angry. 

“Kingpin sent you to kill me, didn’t he?” He chuckles humorlessly. 

You shake your head. “Just to talk.”

The quick change in his face says that was the wrong thing to say and the hair on your neck stands. 

“DON’T LIE TO ME! HE WANTS TO TAKE CREDIT FOR MY WORK! MY WORK!” He screams at you. 

He starts to throw shit around, picking up a desk like it weighs nothing and sending it soaring into the window and down below. You hear a car alarm go off and you just know that one of the SUVs was hit. 

“Norm, please-” You start to cautiously approach him. “All you have to do is-”

“Don’t tell me what I have to do!” He shouts, turning green. 

You put your hands up in surrender, nodding. “Okay, okay.”

All you wanted was a relaxing day with Peter… that’s all you fucking wanted. 

Norman starts to throw more shit out the window and you start to think you’re going to need the backup when as luck would have it, a long white line flies in front of you toward Norman and you recognize it instantly as web fluid.

“Fuck me.” You whisper-shout as you get down, hiding behind the wall. 

You’ve done so good about not having any run-ins with your husband, AKA Spider-Man. Today really is not your lucky day. 

You try your best to scurry out, heading out to the street and around the back alley where the SUVs pull up and you quickly hop in the first one, finding Johnny in the driver’s seat.

“Fucking Spider-Man…” Johnny shakes his head as he drives.

“Let’s get out of here. We aren’t prepared to deal with Goblin and the Spider.” You tell him.

You look out the window as you head back to Fisk Tower, trying to figure out what you’re going to say or do. Fisk is not going to be happy. You failed… which means you’re going to suffer the consequences one way or another. 

Taking the elevator back up to your boss’ office on the top floor, the knot in your stomach twists and turns. You quickly shoot Peter a quick text to let him know you love him, just in case. Hopefully he sees it after he’s done dealing with Osborn. 

When the doors open, Fisk is already waiting with his arms crossed, in his seat at his desk. He really knows how to command a room with that glare of his.

“Sir, I-” You start. 

“Failed.” He states, finishing your sentence as he sees fit. No questions about it.

You nod. “There were… complications.”

“I know. Spider-Man showed up.” He stares at you.

Shit. 

“Take care of him.” 

“Sir?” 

He stands up. “Kill the Spider-Man.” 

Your blood runs ice cold. 

“Because if you don’t…” He walks around his desk, stalking toward you like you’re prey. “You’ll be the one who’s taken care of if not. Got it?” 

He’s still staring down at you and for once in your life, you truly feel small. But not because of the large man towering over you. Because of the danger you’ve put you and your husband in.

[vee-nyx]

self-loathing as a result of your own wishes earlier in life…prayers arriving late in the form of destruction…they wished death upon each other for years and it only came true when they were close to being happy…is this anything

[go-see-a-starwar]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN - THE LAST MAN (2019)

[captaingondolin]

in my ever evolving quest against procrastination by doomscrolling and the search for some sustainable mental health practice, ages ago I tried to pick up crochet. and then immediately gave up because I felt stupid and could not handle a learning curve.

last week I started junk journaling and it's such A JOY. I love tearing paper. free therapy. amazing. spectacular.

(every time I've done some form of collage I love it, idk why I then ignore it for years at a time. and I always keep ticket stubs and similar, usually in a photo album where I just slide them in, but I could add them to something like this instead)

anyway, this is the video that inspired me:

[poibynt]

Old wrinkly watching Hiccup collect a bunch of the kings things without telling his daughter off hardcore questing for them without any success