#back on my ac bullshit

[heraldofsomething]

Assassin's Creed: Odyssey Doing Time

Interesting... Death may be the greatest of human blessings, after all.

[nowwheresmynut]

Missing Pess

<< More from the Pess Cinematic Universe >>

[muisley]

two of em

[thou-babbling-brook]

I think both TURN: Washington’s Spies and Assassin’s Creed III could’ve been cut in half if these three were allowed to be the trio they were destined to be

[toytulini]

listen im ace and im pro kink at pride and whatever, but the way some of yall are wording your posts in response to the backlash against it is uh. really taking me back to the ace shitcourse era.

yall know theres nothing wrong with being a "virgin", right? that its not inherently shameful to have not had sex, to never have sex, even if youre not ace, even if you do want to have sex someday, like, its fine that you haven't had sex?

maybe if your problem is that theyre trying to police your behavior and shame you for expressing your sexuality, you can say that? instead of resorting to "haha stupid virgin gets no bitches" like my god. do you not hear how fucking regressive that attitude is? i know, i know, youre "joking".

get a better joke

[soulsofinkau]

{they finally escaped wip prison}

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: nsfw/18+. afab!reader. vaginal fingering. masturbation (m + f). doffy-typical condescension. wc: 980

Doflamingo arranges you on the immense bed like his pretty little fuckdoll, pulls down the silken sheets and props you against the copious pillows, instructing you to touch yourself for him—he’s had a long day, and he wants his darling to give him a nice show. He undresses as he steps away, unbuttoning his shirt with an unhurried pace, letting the crisp, white fabric slide down his sinewy forearms before it flutters to the floor. He cocks his head and watches your fascinated expression as he teasingly pulls his trousers down over his hips, letting your eyes follow the v-shape carved into his lower abdomen and the trail of blonde hair leading down to his half-hard cock, already leaking for you. He hungers for the way your eyes light up at the sight of him—he requested a show from you, but he secretly relishes putting on one for you, too.

He pulls up a chair at the end of the bed and languidly strokes himself hard as he observes you; it’s charming, he thinks, how coy you are as you start, that no matter how many times you perform for him, there’s always a hint of bashfulness in your actions, as though you’re doing it all for the first time. He throbs as you take your time, avoiding his glances and running hesitant hands over your nude form, stifling moans until they’re only little sighs, tentatively circling your middle finger over your clit as though you’re unsure of what he wants, even though you know his desires as thoroughly as your own. He throbs in his palm and inhales sharply through his teeth as you finally slide two fingers inside your pretty cunt and pump them in an out, your knuckles beginning to glisten from your slick.

It’s such a shame, Doflamingo contemplates as he runs his thumb over the head of his aching cock, spreading his precum over the tip—no matter how you keen and sigh as you pleasure yourself, he knows that your hands are no match for what he can do to you. You can’t fill yourself the way his cock can, heavy and thick, stretching your walls until tears run down your puffy cheeks and you whine that it’s too big, right before you beg him to fill you more. You can’t reach the depths that his long fingers can, can’t quite stroke that spot inside you—the one that makes your legs quiver and your teeth clench—the way that he does. No matter how well you know your body, he knows it better, and no matter how successfully you can make yourself tremble and spasm on your own, he can do it even more brilliantly—he can make you keen, make you sob, make you grip the sheets until your fingers dig into your palms and your breath hitches in your throat until his name leaves your lips like a hymn. And why, when he can easily aid you in reaching heaven, would a generous god like himself allow his devotee to suffer?

“Pathetic,” he murmurs under his breath as he stands from his chair, his palm still running over his length as he approaches you and sits down on the bed. Your eyes open at the mattress shifting underneath you, and Doflamingo knows that look, can interpret that glimmer in your teary eyes—the one that admits your weaknesses and your shortfalls, that says you need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone. But a look isn’t enough—he needs to hear it.

“Do you want help, little bird?” he asks, words saturated with condescension. He places his hand on the side of your face, stroking your cheek as if to reassure you that it was all okay—it was okay to need him, to admit that you could never give yourself the gifts that he could.

He sees the hesitation, the way your lips press together and your brow furrows—you’ll beg him with a glance, but forcing you to admit your sins was another matter, and your reluctance makes his pulsing cock ache even more exquisitely for you. You finally nod and turn your body towards him, stilling your hand as you pout, “Please?”

“I really have to do everything for you, don’t I?” Doflamingo sighs, a halfhearted effort to hide his delight, but his elation is unmistakable as a lascivious grin stretches across his face.

A chuckle that turns into a low groan rumbles in his chest and he pushes your legs apart, grasping your wrist and slowly pulling your fingers out of your dripping cunt. He raises your hand to his mouth, lavishing your fingers with his tongue, savoring the taste of your juices—you taste like desperation, and want, and a heated need to be blessed by your merciful god. He lowers his hand to the apex of your thighs, to that temple of divinity that even he cannot resist, and slides his middle and ring fingers inside you, teasing you with a few shallow thrusts as you writhe on the mattress, adding his index finger to fill you the way you crave.

“Aww, now that’s better, isn’t it?” he coos as you clench around his fingers, and he feels a deluge of your slick coating his hand. You don’t answer him, too busy bucking your hips into his touch, your head pressing back into the pillows as his name pushes its way out of your lungs. But it’s perfectly alright that you’re stricken wordless under his hand: the way you cry out for him as he curls his fingers upwards and strokes your walls, the way your back arches as he presses into you and your thighs tighten around his forearm, the way your greedy little cunt flutters and spasms as he easily pushes you over the edge—that will be the only answer he ever needs.

[thymedog]

End of shift

[siracethegreat]

I haven’t stopped thinking about the mumbo bakery owner as I had a dream about so take this I adore him in his little pink apron

[apple-pie-fly]

small mob

[vroomvroomwee]

God the queer experience of meeting wonderful people who are actually kind, compassionate, and thoughtful. Becoming close friends. But still feeling this deep sense of otherness. This deep dissonance between you and them that stems from the fact that they have no idea who you are.

It fucking hurts to have these people hang out with you and like you, and knowing deep down that they won't like the REAL you, but instead this masked persona that you put up for the sake of your own safety. It hurts knowing that every time you talk to them, you know that they're talking to someone else. That someone else is pushing you back and making conversation with your friends. Stealing them from you.

And it's not like we have much choice. People constantly say oh find other queer people, oh just make trans friends, oh you need a community. As if it's that easy. As if we don't already desperately long for some form of recognition, of connection. As if we don't claw our hearts out every night because we want the space next to us to be occupied. To be understood. To be valued. To be worth a damn. To be loved. Some of us just don't have that choice.

It hurts that I can't be friends with these lovely people because of the hand I was dealt. And yeah, I'm ready to hear the "if they don't accept the real you, then they were never lovely people to begin with." True. That's true. But I'm not oblivious to the fact that if I was cishetallo then I would actually have friends. And feel known. And feel seen.

I know we're supposed to love ourselves no matter what and these days you'll basically be torn apart if you so much as insinuate that you're not proud of your identity. But goddammit I'm not. It's hard. And I know trans is beautiful. And queer is beautiful. And it's liberating. But I just wish they knew it too. And it's fucking lonely

[gleamiarts]

i finally know how to draw apollo.. i feel so powerful

[greyskyflowers]

Thinking of love stories that don't get a chance to be told ~

💙

Always Gold Radical Face / The First Bad Man Miranda July / One Piece Oda Eiichiro / Second Chance Summer Morgan Matson / Song of Achilles Madeline Miller / One Piece Oda Eiichiro / Hdhwrites (via wnq-writers) / Rupi Kaur / One Piece Oda Eiichiro / Summertime Sadness Lana Del Ray

[maglorthecrab]

🔮 ghosthunters Follow

hot girls get accused of murder constantly ☹️ I swear I’m just trying to finish my magisteel fanfic but nooo I keep being arrested ☹️

🪜 ladderhosen Follow

average ao3 author

🧃applejustice Follow

Op what are you even doing to keep being arrested for murder 😧

🔮 ghosthunters Follow

Literally nothing! I’m just a poor poor little meow meow :((( your honour my client is meow meow :(( not guilty

🕰️ athelas Follow

uh that is not how a court of law works op you can’t just claim to be a meow meow and get acquitted?? would the judge dven understand that??

🧃 applejustice Follow

i’m a lawyer. you’d be surprised the shenanigans that goes on in court. only in LA I swear 😔

🍄 magisteel Follow

help all the reblogs zeroed in on applejustice like OH MY GOD YOUREA LAWYR IN LA DO YOU KNOW SUCH AND SUCJ like yeah they’re probably aware of the LA law fandom

🌅 rainbowmiku Follow

I’ve only had the LA law fandom for a day and if anything happened to it I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself

🛒 guiltylove Follow

MANSLAUGHTER

🪜 ladderhosen Follow

Can’t have shit in Detroit? Nuh uh can’t have shit in the LA law fandom istg like hey welcome we have our favourite chief prosecutor married to a defence attorney who’s completely insane and has been on trial for murder three times and then people come here saying ‘oh manslaugtter’ for making a reference istg

🫧 pearlescent Follow

op was literally here to complain about not being able to finish a fic because she keeps being arrested for murder :( sad times

🌻 wrightandcolaw Follow

like literally! just came here to vent about my fic being unfinished because of the trial 🙄

🌻 wrightandcolaw Follow

WRONG ACCOUNT OH MY GOD

🐚 demaskmasque Follow

The plot thickens

🌸 hazakuras Follow

WAIT IS GHOSTHUNTERS AND WRIGHTANDCOLAW THE SAME PERSON

🌅 rainbowmiku Follow

The LA law fandom is having a field day with this lmao

12,307 notes

[mamamittens]

Fun little headcanons before bed that I've had on my mind for a while.

How would (X) handle you not being able to look/talk to them because you think they're too pretty?

(it's me, I can't look and talk to people I think are really pretty. Don't look at me with your pretty eyes damnit 😭)

Marco

Now, quite reasonably, Marco is going to assume you're just intimidated (and he's not... Wrong???) And give you space. This is assuming you're on the same ship and prone to running into each other otherwise he wouldn't need to think about it much at all.

This does get troublesome when time doesn't fix the issue. Unless he's your direct commander it just gets... Frustrating. Sure you're not together all the time but he gets a bit tired of being treated like he has the plague. Eventually, he's going to confront you about hating him.

Only to be baffled by how you're studiously avoiding eye contact. And you're blushing madly. And can't seem to string together sentences.

Oh.

Now, he gets a little mean. Screw him. He thought you hated his guts for the longest time. He milks it a little, just enough to see you sweat that he's definitely onto you. But if it approaches real anxiety or fear he takes a step back and handles it differently. He doesn't want you to be uncomfortable after all.

Ends up having a small but genuine conversation with your backs to each other.

Afterwards, he's preening to himself.

You really thought he was so damn pretty you couldn't talk to him.

Luckily, he thinks you're pretty cute too.

Ace

Immediately assumes you hate him totally and completely. So much so that it takes some time for people to figure out who's avoiding whom. And it takes even longer for someone to convince Ace that there's something going on. But once that idea is planted in his head he's going to worry over it. Constantly. It will literally haunt him.

He needs answers.

He's going in a tad aggressive, demanding answers so he can make peace with the obvious truth that you hate him. Getting pissed off that you won't look at him--clearly you're disgusted by him. Fuck, can't you at least have the balls to say it to his face??? What's he gotta do to get you to admit how much you hate him?

Then he sees how hard your blushing, face hot as you hide behind your hands. And he assumes that he's effectively been bullying you and maybe you don't hate him but clearly you're terrified of him (so close yet so far...)

So now he's apologizing, getting all worked up himself because now you definitely have to hate him! He's just going to... Go now. Sorry...

It's only when his back is turned that you can string together a response to explain that he's too pretty to handle.

It's a solid two minutes before he can think again, he's so fucking thrown by your explanation. Turning on instinct before remembering the problem so he hides his face in his hat, which is great cause his face is bright enough to function as a lighthouse.

Face now hidden behind a hat he gets to the bottom of it. He's... Absolutely baffled and almost doesn't believe you but the sheer awkwardness is convincing enough on its own.

Now he's got a new problem.

How does he get you used to his face so he can see your cute face himself whenever he wants?

Thatch

Immediately he wants to solve the issue. He may not know what it is but he certainly isn't a shrinking violet! It's actually kind of impressive how persistent he is given your determination to not be confronted with him in person. He constantly laments that he can't hold a conversation with you now matter how hard he tries! That you always end up running from him--he's not that rough looking is he? Is it the hair? Please don't be the hair he might actually cry

Finally, after turning in some favors, he essentially corners you. Turning up the charm (oh sweet summer child that is not helping) to talk through this little issue between you. But! You're not looking at him! How will you know he's being sincere if you can't see his face?!?

And hey... You're looking kinda flushed you good? Are you sick?

He goes in to coddle you a little and is startled at the dying sound that slips out, your hand immediately covering your face in sheer embarrassment.

Oh... Oh?!? OH?!?!

He wastes no time preening to himself, instantly figuring it out while asking if there's anything he can do to make it easier to talk (batting his eyes like a nerd). You're so damn cute he pulls you in for a hug while laughing a bit.

All those plans for nothing! You didn't hate him not were you scared of him (sorta).

Looks like he's gotta make new plans so he can see more of your cute reactions for himself.

Now imma pass out for work in... 5 hours lol, no wonder I sleep for 17 hours on the weekend, yikes 😬

[magpie-trinkets]

zacharias barnham visits the wrights