#anyway. ill go sit down

[aleksikesa]

replaying ghost of tsushima will fix me, I’m so sure of it

[cozylittleartblog]

a little Postlet. . because i Miss them

[fru1tt0ast]

star trek au where everything is the same except kirk has a service dog

[xxplastic-cubexx]

subtitles are so important cause how else am i meant to watch xmen during class what the fuck

[sukugo]

sukuna and gojo use binding vows for sex, taking things like orgasm denials or touch deprivation steps further, where the other is contractually bound to not be able to do certain things, like touch themselves or touch the other etc etc 

one such instance being a vow where gojo has a vibrator up his ass, but he can't touch himself or remove it, until sukuna specifically, pulls it out.  

he keeps the vibe in throughout the day, with sukuna controlling it remotely, even as they both go throughout their separate days.  

gojo goes to have his usual breakfast, and meets yuuji at the dining room, they greet and sit next to each other. yuuji is, as always, energetic and excited to see him 

they make conversation, until gojo gives a jolt and starts twitching and huffing. sukuna has turned the vibrator up all the way. yuuji worries and panics and asks him what's wrong. gojo gives a breathy laugh and reassures him. he motions low and tells yuuji about the vibrator inside him, through sudden jolts and soft whimpers.  

satoru complains about it, and yuuji advices to remove it or go and take care of himself.  

except gojo states that he can’t and yuuji puzzles.  

"it's... a pact—mmh!" 

"a pact???" yuuji's voice rises in volume, but he visibly calms, shoulders dropping into a fond sigh. "sensei, you really are..." that's all he can manage to say. reprimand is useless. gojo likes it, yuuji is well aware, he is enjoying every second of this, even as he complains.  

gojo gives a few odd jolts, undoubtedly an odd pattern of intensity from the vibe, yuuji can guess. sudden irregular ups and downs that are not taken well by the man.  

satoru clicks his tongue. "what is that guy doing?" he actually looks irritated for a moment—a look yuuji doesn’t get to see often—until it’s broken with a sigh and his pleased, calm demeanor returns, mimicking the soft waves of pleasure across his thighs. 

still, yuuji can see his hands crumpled at his sides, undoubtedly wishing to use them.  

that's when satoru perks flares up all of a sudden.  

"actually, yuuji,” he turns to look at him, grinning. “you can help me" he opens his legs and lifts the edges of his kimono, his dick peeking out the fabric. yuuji gulps at the sight. satoru motions to it, giving yuuji a wordless look. yuuji hesitates for a moment, but complies, taking his hand to the cock, and starts stroking. 

satoru crumbles under the touch, immediately breathing out his nose and muffling moans. he leans into yuuji, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, fingers clasped in yuuji's kimono, nuzzling into his hair and whining in his ear.  

satoru's sounds fluctuate in pitch and volume, making it known when his vibe's gotten stronger. yuuji keeps his pace and satoru spills in his hand. he twitches and sighs, soft breaths against yuuji's flushed ear. 

yuuji stares at the cum in his hand.  

"you can wipe it on me,” satoru tells him with a breath that's calmed much too fast. “my clothes are already soiled anyways". and yuuji feels bad for it, but he obeys nonetheless.  

satoru takes a hand to yuuji's chin and turns his face to him and gives him a kiss. short and sweet.  

"as a reward." he smiles at yuuji. the boy surprises but takes it happily, cheeks warm and eyes softened, albeit a bit timidly. a tinge of disappointment colors the edges of his face. 

"you want more?" satoru brings his face to yuuji's again. the vibrations have reached a slight plateau, so his voice is steadier.  

yuuji’s face widens a bit, but he nervously chuckles, pulling back from gojo's face. "no, it's alright," he lies. "i don't want sukuna to kill me" 

but satoru’s already pulling into him, breathing into his lips. "i won't let him <3"

"that's...actually reassuring......" yuuji’s eyes flutter shut as satoru's lips meet his again.  

and with that, they're kissing and slowly the vibrations and gojo’s twitching start again. satoru moves atop yuuji's lap to straddle him, and while they kiss, yuuji takes his hand between them and jerks him off again. satoru moans and gasps into his mouth, each jolt mirroring the pulses against his prostate.  

they separate for gojo to bury his face in yuuji's shoulders, arms hugging his neck. he humps into yuuji's hand until he comes against him again. 

he pants and huffs atop the boy, catching his breath. yuuji's gentle arms hold him, fingers rubbing slow circles at his back.  

satoru's breathing calms against yuuji’s neck. 

"yuuji, u're such a good boy."  

yuuji's heart and dick swell. 

[epicdogymoment]

kitty crochet..

[todayisafridaynight]

dad just texted me to have a good weekend and i cant tell if this is an indicator of me Having A Good Weekend or my mental illness getting worse

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

me every time i learn about someone else being a cauldron cape !!!!!!

[mifunebooty]

I will survive my 6 month streak curse of being in love and having the mega hots for Robert Mitchum

[tomb-mold]

so i ended up going to one of the only little shops in my new town to get my eyebrow pierced since my regular piercer in my old city whom i love and does a fantastic job every time no longer works there. anyway this piercer was lovely and nice but struggled SO bad to get the jewelry in when the time came and took it out and tried again a couple times and like. im not blaming her or anything i guess sometimes you just have a hard time...but im FULLY expecting to get an infection LMAO

[quietwingsinthesky]

can we talk about the meep’s pronouns moment in the star beast again? i want to talk about the way it’s set up. in any other show, this would have been a joke. it would have been, “oh, look at this trans person getting so up in arms about the doctor assuming this alien’s pronouns. isn’t that an insane thing to care about?” and then that would be where it ended, the entire point being that asking for pronouns is ridiculous, that a trans person pointing it out is ridiculous, and we should be laughing at Rose for bringing it up.

but. it’s not. Rose says, “You’re assuming he as a pronoun?” in a tone of voice that, to me, at least, reads as someone who has been in this situation many, many times before and been laughed at for caring. who has been the butt of that joke. who starts this dialogue off from a defensive position because every time before she’s ever asked in earnest, she’s been shut down.

and then the Doctor says, “True. Yes. Sorry. Good point. Are you he or she or they?” The Doctor acknowledges Rose’s point, apologizes for glossing over it, and makes an effort to ask. Hell, the moment is even used to set up the Doctor connecting to the Meep more like he will when the Meep mentions having two hearts; they both share “the” as a pronoun as a pronoun.

(and I’m reading through the transcript right now to check, but as far as I can tell, yeah. The Doctor does then use “The Meep” to refer to the Meep for the rest of the episode, not any other pronoun.)

It’s a very brief moment, but it feels intentionally made to invoke those jokes, to take them and say, ‘no, why would this be a joke, we’ll take it seriously.’ Expectations subverted brilliantly. The Doctor says trans rights.

[cathalbravecog]

misty doodle

[themyscirah]

I love problematic women

[iftitah]

im tired of watching all the stories

[writingwolverina]

Burial Hymn for A Dislocated Rib

Or, an excerpt from ‘In Perpetuum’, in which Laz Atwater loses his patience.

(TW for gore and self harm)

—

Sometimes I feel like I need to start over. As though if I allow my body to grow itself from scratch, the aches and the soreness and the ways that I was forced to heal incorrectly will solve themselves and I will live without pain. I forget about the way my twitching muscles will struggle to hold my bones in their places, how my head will throb from dehydration while my veins contract around what little blood still flows through them. No, I forget the truth of the matter in favor of my fantasy where a new body will form and that body will be perfect. Then I dig my fingers under the edges of my rib cage and pry them open, letting each rib stab into my chest, puncture my lungs, restrain my breathing as my heart thunders against each cracking, concave rod. I peel my own skin back like I’m skinning a rabbit, I press my knife between the joints in my hip and i crank it, wrench it, force the tendons apart and the meat of my flesh tears as I butcher myself. It is a lapse of sanity and it is a desperate gamble to gain it back. I dismember and dismantle myself, pry out each tooth one by one, pull my entrails out hand over hand until my stomach is empty. I bleed myself like a pig. I hope it will kill me. It never does.

And it never does what I want it to, either. I am always in pain every moment of my reformation. I will never be whole — something will heal wrong, something new, some ache or pain that I never had before. A kink in my back that I have to stretch every hour where I never used to. A soreness in my shoulders when I sleep on my side, a click in my knee when I walk up the stairs. A throbbing in my knuckles, a twinge in my eye. A rotating cast of symptoms I can never outrun and never recover from.

But they will be new pains at least. The old pains will be gone. It will be refreshing, these new terrors. I hope I will be refreshed, anyway. The only reason I tear myself apart is because I cannot bear the monotonous hum of underlying ripping, tearing, stabbing pain I am in. I need it to change its tune. I need to change it even if it means digging a blade into myself and hoping I’m hitting the right nerves, the right chords, rearranging the right bones into the right place.

I take a deep breath and feel shooting pain. One of my ribs healed incorrectly. If I breathe as my instinct is to breathe, keep my breaths shallow, I don’t notice it, but if I inflate my lungs to my fullest it stabs into me, presses into the air-filled sack and threatens to puncture it, though my subconscious won’t let me get to that point.

There is the impulse to reach into my chest and snap it, move it out of the way. But I have been in enough pain today.

This will have to be an ache I tolerate until the next time I reach my limit and search for new agony in rebirth.

[seariii]

Wait what do you mean people don't normally talk to themselves and give themselves therapy-