#and i want to believe him so bad

[mayahawkins]

every day for the last month i wake up, have various weird nerve feelings in various places in my body, have approximately 5 breakdowns about it over the course of the day, and then try to ignore it enough to fall asleep so i can do the same thing all over again tomorrow 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[chloesimaginationthings]

At least Matpat lives on in the FNAF universe

[hinamie]

parenthood was not on my 2024 bingo card but clearly life is full of surprises

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy – Part 2: A Heartthrob with Loser Rizz

So, Tim Drake is Gotham’s newest heartthrob. Cool, right? Except, well… there’s one tiny problem.

For all the brooding good looks, the sharp jawline, and that mysterious allure that has Gotham swooning, Tim Drake has absolutely no game. Like, zero. Nada. It’s a full-blown mystery how this man, who looks like he belongs on magazine covers, can be such a disaster in the romance department.

It all started with his date after that iconic moment when he rolled into the Batcave in that tailored suit. Everyone expected the night to go smoothly. It was Tim, after all—Mr. CEO, Mr. I-Can-Run-A-Multi-Billion-Dollar-Company. Surely, that would translate to his love life, right?

Wrong.

The next morning, Dick was the first to catch Tim yawning over his third cup of coffee. “Rough night?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

Tim just groaned, “I fell asleep on the rollercoaster.”

Dick blinked. “Wait, you fell asleep? On the rollercoaster?”

Tim sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I hadn’t slept in two days, and it was… kinda relaxing? The adrenaline and all.”

And that was just the beginning.

Steph found out later that Tim had somehow managed to spill soda on his date twice—once while trying to explain a complicated merger (because who doesn’t love business talk on a date?) and then again when he tripped over his own chair. By the end of the night, his date probably thought she was being pranked.

Cass, being Cass, summed it up perfectly: “Tim is Gotham’s biggest heartthrob, but he’s also Gotham’s most awkward date.”

Jason, of course, had to weigh in. “This is the same guy who walked into a glass door because he was distracted by a text.”

Let’s not forget the infamous “flower shop incident.” Tim, trying to be romantic, went to pick up flowers before another date, but things quickly went south. How? Well, let’s just say, when you knock over five vases, trip into a display of roses, and end up covered in petals, it’s hard to look suave.

By the time the Batfam heard about that little misadventure, Damian had had enough. “Drake, how is it that you have the charisma of a plank of wood?”

Still, Tim doesn’t mean to be such a disaster. It’s just, well, life seems to have it out for him when he’s trying to impress someone. He once spent an entire dinner talking about the intricacies of encryption algorithms—his date didn’t even make it to dessert. And don’t even mention the time he thought bringing homemade spreadsheets to a movie date would be cute. (Spoiler: It wasn’t.)

Yet, somehow, despite all of this, the mystery of Tim Drake continues to deepen. People are still thirsting after him. The forums are still buzzing with talk of his “quiet charm” and “endearing quirks.” Even his awkward moments somehow manage to add to his appeal, giving him this relatable, down-to-earth vibe that no one in Gotham can seem to resist.

And so, the Batfamily remains baffled. Tim may be Gotham’s biggest heartthrob, but when it comes to actual dating?

He’s a disaster wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit.

[fridgrave2-0]

hehe ghost-turbo haunting felix au

turbo is connected to the last piece of his code in the whole arcade - a trophy he gifted to felix in mid 80s as a symbol of him genuinely caring about their relationships on par with being the best racer. felix also gave him one of his medals and both kept their gifts next to other rewards, but when roadblasters and turbotime were unplugged, the medal was gone with everything else

now, after burning in cola-lava turbo is basically dead, but scraps of his code still were intertwined with the trophy (after all, it was his first winner's cup, but felix never knew about it), giving turbo an opportunity to exist as a shadow incapable of interacting with anything and anyone besides felix, who kept the trophy even after the roadblasters incident

also I went crazy in tags, feel free to check them out

[signanothername]

Dream’s room within Nightmare’s castle

This comic takes place after Nightmare’s theoretical death that I discussed before >:)

A bit of context under readmore

[stereksimp]

*Stiles just killed Donovan in self-defense. He pulls out his phone, pausing on Scott's contact and stares at it. He remembers each time Scott has left him hanging or didn't believe him and promptly clicks on 🍋🐺. The call barely starts in on the second ring before it clicks.

Derek: What's wrong?

Stiles: Why does anything have to be wrong for me to call you?

Derek: Because if everything were alright, you would have just texted.

Stiles: ....I killed someone.

Derek: Why?

*Stiles proceeds to tell him all about Theo and the Dread Doctors. Then quietly goes through the night with Donovan.*

Stiles: I just need someone that will believe me. Please.

Derek: I'll be there tomorrow afternoon. You're going to be fine. Stay with the body. Call your dad. Tell him exactly what you told me. You did nothing wrong.

Stiles: *crying* I killed someone!

Derek: *calm* NO. You protected yourself and your father. I'm checking in at the airport right now. I'll be there in 16 hours.

[potatobugz]

kai is a transmasc disaster. the most cringefail guy that ever lived. do you see my vision

[luckyblackcatxiii]

It's been MONTHS since I figured out Strahd's outdoor wear, and I've finally figured out Rahadin's as well! The creeps can now be nice and warm when traveling the horrific countryside~

I actually started this back when I finished Strahd's look, but I think I bit off more than I could chew by trying to figure out both Rahadin's face and his clothing that I got overwhelmed and ran away from finishing the concept. I've really been into drawing CoS NPCs lately (which means hopefully I'll have more of those to show you guys) which brought me back to finally finishing this. Phew!

And to think: eventually I'll have to figure out and draw his and Strahd's canon fit eventually too! Sigh, it never stops... (but I love doing it <3)

(ALSO I STUPIDLY POSTED THIS WITHOUT THE IMAGES OOPS

[cherrirui-official]

"You know... You didn't have to take that with you."

"But I promised him I'd take him out to see the ocean one day."

[s0fter-sin]

soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

[dykedvonte]

Its really interesting that Jimmy’s chair is the one tilted away from the screen in this shot:

It’s indicative of how his and Jimmy’s dynamic was. He’s not staring ahead at the screen, he’s not paying attention to what they are doing. Curly is the only one looking forward. Jimmy quite literally couldn’t see the responsibility Curly had or was doing. Jimmy likely slacked off and avoided most of his duties. I mean the one time we know he pilots the Tulpar he steers it wrong and loses the team 4000 credits. Even in the positions they held objectively, Curly was always taking responsibility for Jimmy. Not to mention the “We can fix this” and only one chair at attention. Jimmy never had intentions to fix anything, throughout the game, throughout his entire relationship with Curly. Curly always fixed it? Why would it be any different here?

If he even took the slightest bit of responsibility, he would’ve stayed in the cockpit to see his plan through. In the end Curly did what Jimmy always expected him to do for him and took responsibility. Did what he always did and took responsibility at the wrong time…

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[ghost-proofbaby]

a simple life (e.m.)

summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.

warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 1.4k+

a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.

“Where did you even get this postcard?”

“Eddie.”

“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”

Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours. 

“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you. 

“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him. 

“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”

His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?” 

“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.” 

“What if I say please?” 

You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour. 

He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?” 

“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.

You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties. 

“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”

“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile. 

He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”

His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you. 

Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for. 

It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it. 

“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.” 

“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.” 

You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care. 

“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.” 

“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”

“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”

“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips. 

Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in. 

“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.” 

Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you. 

You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you. 

You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?” 

With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.” 

You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you. 

A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.

The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you. 

“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

[lesbians4armand]

once again i really do think armand’s morality and view of his own morality is summed up by “i tried to be good, am i no good?” because he KNOWS he’s not, but he so desperately wants to be good in any way he can be, so that he can be desired. and this in turn means he is deep in denial about any bad he has done other than the deep seated feeling that he is simply “bad” as a vague concept and not the sum of his actions. anyway who’s up thinking normal thoughts about characters.