#Who woulda thought

[boigyu]

idol au where you have heeseung as your phone wallpaper and accidentally show it on live

[hisgirlboyfriend]

missing his touch even though I've never felt it

remembering the feeling of his lips on mine but it had never been more than a dream

I miss him so much it hurts, I feel it in my soul. I love him more than life itself. He is my everything. I can't wait to hold him

[monstrousmuse]

“I Don’t Want To Die Alone”

hurts because this is something that humans are meant to be afraid of. Mere mortals. Bill is not immune to feelings of existential dread and it shows.

This is another reason as to why I cannot wait to get my greedy little hands on the BoB; I need more insights into his perception of reality, his worldview and unfiltered stream of consciousness. The things he doesn’t realise he is revealing to us consequent of simply being given the chance to write it all out. The classic Freudian Slip.

This, of course, gives a whole new layer of…meaning to “TIME IS DEAD AND MEANING HAS NO MEANING”. If the passage of time is halted, then no living thing will ever age, nothing will change, and Bill can remain the “Host (of the party) that never dies” for all eternity. He will have (questionable) company, he will have entertainment, he will never be alone.

Seriously. Ford’s infamous “From now until the end of time” must have been like the Elixir of Life for him…

[omniscientoranges]

AND SOMEHOW IT'S FUCKING TOMGREG WITH THE BUZZER BEATER WIN

[thatsouthernstate]

Andrew Scott on The Hollywood Reporter’s Actors Roundtable via THR’s TikTok

[snderist]

my baby asher & @fruitysimsy ‘s baby eloise are getting married! save the date 💍🤍.

[agnosticmoney]

what if they kissed man

idkkkkk what if yk

(pulled from scrapped sketches for late night post yippiee!!! i will have a breakdown i think i likebthem🧍🏽🧍🏽🧍🏽🧍🏽🧍🏽)

[vietbluecoeur]

running on an electric heart - vietbluecoeur (vietbluefic) - 崩坏：星穹铁道 | Honkai: Star Rail (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

"running on an electric heart"

Rated: M

Relationship: Aventurine/Boothill

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary:

Whether his higher-ups like it or not, and usually they don’t, there’s one thing among uncountable others at which Aventurine excels — and that’s conflating pleasure with business. He can’t quite help it. Topaz calls him reckless. Aventurine prefers to dub it living a little. What’s the point of high stakes, after all, if you don’t raise them yourself every so often? The point is, sometimes he also has sex with people he shouldn’t. Whenever he does, it’s always just because.

I have been having a lot of Thoughts about these two characters and their dynamic/ship potential, and so I excitedly wrote this up in just a few days. They're just so cool, and there's a lot to be explored between them just because Aventurine and Boothill are each very fascinating characters in their own right. I hope I managed to portray that well here, and that you enjoy this read!

[sethcohnn]

PROMO: Jughead Jones and Veronica Lodge in the Riverdale series finale

[troutlawyer]

The fact that the entire FNAF franchise was created and still owned by a right-wing Trump-voting fundamentalist Christian is so wild to me. He even made Christian media before FNAF. The series is dark as fuck and I am certain no fundie parent would ever want their kids exposed to a series of video games involving child murder, ghosts, possession, and of course regular violence and death.

[claire8216]

High Tides and Currents

Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: Kiara "Kie" Carrera/JJ Maybank Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Swearing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Inspired by The Last Five Years, technically this is Lovers to Exes to Lovers Summary: Kiara and JJ's relationship. Told from beginning to end, and end to beginning. Or, a The Last Five Years inspired story.

Snippet: Kiara’s sitting on her sofa, her chin resting on her knees she has pulled up to her chest. She can’t cry anymore – doesn’t have anything left to cry, if she’s honest – instead is staring at her phone on the coffee table in front of her, watching text after text come in from John B, Pope, and Cleo, no doubt asking her if she’s okay, but also probably wanting to know what the fuck just happened.

And it’s stupid, because she knows it’s not going to happen, but there’s a small part of her hoping that JJ will text her. Not even to apologize, or say he’s an idiot and made a huge mistake, but just to check in on her. Because sure, he’s just caused her the biggest heartbreak of her life, but before any of that he was her best friend, and it’s her best friend JJ that she wants to talk to about her ex-boyfriend JJ. It’s enough to almost make Kiara laugh because, well, how fucked up is that?

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 here!

[meeks-beas]

Chat what is this I’m getting back into reading again

Chat is this real

[devilsrecreation]

How about our favorite hyenas for the ship bingo? (Janja and Jasiri) :3c

CANON X CANON OTP TIME!!!!

Okay I know they aren’t officially mates in the show but the things canon does to make everyone think/know that Janja has a crush on Jasiri makes me ship them. And I know they’re already happy in their own way but I want them to be happier. As happy as can be cuz we all know they both deserve it.

This ship is everything I swear 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[gaykey]

i'm actually getting anon hate from lil freaks......guys....................

[biowho]

If you want to read the first chapter of the 105th Veilguard fic posted on AO3 (writen by me hi hello!) the link to it's here

It's a retelling of The Wigmaker's Job but from the perspective of one of the slaves of Lucanis' target, who goes on to be my Rook. It's also the story about how Rook and Lucanis met, though neither of them will put two and two together for some time. Aaaaand it gives more characterization to Effe, the elf featured in the story and how exactly she got all of that blood cleaned up so fast.

[carrotcakecrumble]

WIP snippet tag

Thanks to @mademoiselle-red for the tag!!!

——————

I turn, rest my bottom against the dull, hard curve of the sink basin, fold my arms. My hips are the focal point, pushed out in front of me so they jut. He’s looking, so I pretend not to notice. I wish my pyjama trousers weren’t quite so bobbly.

“What do you want to do today?” I ask. I leave the tear streaks, pink and lustrous as I hope they are, on my cheeks. Some of it’s partly from not wanting to bring the attention that wiping them away would bring, partly because I like the drama of them. Why was I crying? Dramatic little queer. That’s why. That’s who I am. It’s what I do. Look at me.

“Sky’s a trifle grey. Maybe we could have an inside day,” he says. He’s foaming his chin up with white shaving cream, pressing into me and leaning past my shoulder to examine himself in the mirror. He smells dull and muted, hardly even there beneath the bright spring-like tang of the soap. I lick a line of it clean, just next to his ear. It tastes sour and chemically, feels slapstick. It’d make a good scene in a film. Or, no, he turns his head and presses his face against mine and whispers ‘behave’ and all of a sudden there’s a twinge in my stomach and I’ll do anything for him. My lips and nose and chin and somehow my left eyelid are imprinted with his shaving foam and the dull, prickling sensation of his stubble. That’d make a good scene. That’d make a really good scene. One of those suggestive, ephemeral, homo-erotic ones I obsess myself with catching out when I go to the pictures. He turns away again and re-loads the brush, filling in the gaps on his face with scratchy-sounding little swirls.

“And do what?” I ask. He drops the foam brush and pinches his razor from the tooth-mug, swishing it beneath the tap.

“S’your home,” he says, puckering his lips to the side, combing the razor over his cheek. The cream skin underneath is revealed like a stroke of paint, “you’ll know better than I.”

“Well,” I lean close, breath hot air onto the sensitive, freshly naked skin, “I know what I want to do.”

He doesn’t react, I wait but there’s nothing, not even a glance. Maybe he didn’t understand.

“Are your people in?” He asks, quite matter-of-factly.

“Couldn’t say.”

“Well, not if they’re in,” so he understood. He just didn’t care.

I lean my face against his unbuttoned pyjama shirt, pat it dry with soft, rolling movements of my neck. A bit like a nuzzling kitten, milk dripping from it’s whiskers. His milk. It excites me just to think the words.

“They hardly care,” I say.

“Of course they care,” he snaps, “or would. If they knew.”

Now he looks at me. Looks down at me, a bit the same as last night. So much the same, in fact, that I can almost feel him inside me again. Smothering me, consuming me, changing me. His eyes are colder, now. More blood back to his brain instead of his cock. Cold eyes filled with cold blood.

“Christian,” he says, low, “they can’t know. You’ll never tell them.”

It’s not a question, but the hard fix of his stare makes me answer anyway.

“Never. I never would. Anyone. I’d never tell anyone,” my face is dry, so I just lean my head against his piercing shoulder bone. I’ve found myself, just recently, doing this. Impaling myself onto all his sharp edges. He has a lot of them, a lot of vertices. He’s an irregular prism of bones to bruise myself with. His shoulder cuts in just below my cheek bone and quietly, breathing in the smell of soap and lingering spearmint, I add, “as long as you’re mine.”

________

Tagging: @renaultphile @spudodell @ishipallthings (if you want to <33)