#beautiful soup

[annaberunoyume]

Imagine Pigsy singing this song to Tang after a long day. While the latter beholds the cook sleepily...

[alanshemper]

Fuck you yet again, NYT...

[thechekhov]

glass soup

[the-lilac-grove]

“Turtle Soup”, from Alice In Wonderland (1999)

Gene Wilder, Donald Sinden, and Tina Majorino

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

costco rotisserie chicken

[eagle-writes]

We all will return to the soup someday. May our bones make a wonderful stock. ~Kith Pendragon

Ink: Sailor Jentle yama-dori

This popped into my head and I gotta write it down before I forget it

[pixiesa]

What do you mean sending clips of the 1999 live action Alice in Wonderland out of context doesn’t count as flirting???

[saydesole]

Pho🍜

[sh1nsoukoku]

Dazai: Self deprecating comment that asserts his own bias that he is not good/human and therefore his actions are to be questioned

Atsushi: Immediate empathetic response because he’s never questioned Dazai’s goodness/humanity

—

This is Dazai being surprised that Atsushi does not view him as the inhuman, removed identity that he portrayed for so long. Atsushi does not see Dazai the way himself and many others have always viewed him. Because of this, Atsushi has been able to reach Dazai in ways that nobody ever really has before.

[divinit3a]

oh, no. it's another au ⚠️⚠️⚠️ somniphobia spoilers, if you are... worried about that... 👍

and this one is just -- 100% silly

without further ado, Go my scarab: Somniphobia AU, But (animatronic) Moon actually has to be Sam's Dad Now. No take-backs. That teenage boy ghost is your son.

additional sketches & rambling below cut 👇

Let's go on a walk down memory lane together, shall we?

I, Pom, am doing a little research into Sun & Moon, because well, this is FNAF. The ghosts-inside-robots series. I am mildly concerned that the robot has a ghost inside it that I should really, really, know about.

Enter: Moondrop Hologram from Tales of the Pizzaplex Novellas, Somniphobia

Alright, I say. In a spin-off, there is a hypothetical Dad Moon. And so, I read Somniphobia. And then, I draw silly shitposts bc thats what I do.

the FNAF SB fathers support group (Freddy & Roxy) gains another member

[amphirrhvx]

WE ARE SO BACK!!!! ✨

without the text :)

[flamememeago]

I feel we as a society moved on way too fast from the fact that Dave Davies and Brian Jones almost had a threesome.

[angelmush]

made a brown butter dutch baby w homemade spiced plum jam and a drizzle of cream for breakfast, shared with my girlfriend who lovingly humors me even tho she doesn’t like dutch babies all that much. we ate in content late-morning quiet, sat beside the dining room chairs that have fallen victim to our piles— of stuffed backpacks for grad-school and an ever growing tower of my most frequently worn handmade winter knits, the items worn multiple times a day to brave the bright cold december when i take the dog outside. this pile consists of a big blue cable sweater i made from wool, a pair of fingerless gloves i knit w scrap yarn, and a soft hood crafted from orange alpaca. i am loving wintertime, with its first true snow of the season and its warm spices and its stockings hung fruitful with gifts on the bookshelf, for lack of a proper mantleplace. i am grateful for the candles and the coziness and the citrus fruits, and for watching the cat perch in the bedroom windowsill, real estate that in the summer months the AC unit occupies with all of its bulking and whirring and thrumming. it is a gift to witness her savoring her seasonal view of the snow blanketed backyard, her gaze trailing determinedly after the flutter of birds.

[ratatatastic]

"im excited to be here [in Finland]" is the understatement of the century matthew ill be real

Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)

[toxintouch]

Absinthe & Sugar:

"They" pronouns used for MC, Unspecified background, no gendered language or descriptors used. WARNINGS: MDNI. Suggestive content/non-explicit smut (very little description used). MC is specified to be the receiving partner (penetration) for a round. Exact relationship dynamic is left heavily to interpretation but I'd say skip if you are sensitive to toxicity. ✦Read on Ao3.

The only difference between Leander and the Senobium is the uniforms, Vere said.

The sex isn't quite the way they intended.  Leander is eager, desperate and overly affectionate.  It rattles them, incongruent with the playboy image of a man they thought they were inviting into their bed; the casual escapade they were inclined towards doesn’t seem to be what they received.

They try to exert control—they do exert control, though it feels like a hollow facsimile at best.  He accommodates their whims, accepts and welcomes their harsh treatment even as they dig their cursed nails into his flesh, press bites against his lips when he seeks their kiss.  His eyes never seem to leave theirs, even as they parry and avoid every intimate gesture he offers them.  Their first fuck is rough—a relief—absolution and damnation in equal measure.

They’re high on adrenaline for the second, nerves singing as he sears worshipful kisses against their golden fissures, laces their fingers together with his, murmurs nonsense.

They lose count of the rest.  Their mind is lost in the heat and the sweat, the green haze they wish they could blame on liquor.  It’s a dream—feeling someone so completely, without any of their usual visceral fear.  But it’s a nightmare.  The way they tip their head back to hold back their tears and end up showing their throat, the way they swallow his whispered promises.

Leander doesn’t behave decently.  Doesn’t escort himself out afterwards.  He spends all night crowding them in bed, arms encircling them, his heavy weight trapping them against his chest.  They shove at him, weak and ineffectual, exhausted from the night's activities.  While their eyes droop, fluttering closed against their will, his stare is vibrant, an affectionate smile upon his still-wet lips.  As they drift off they feel the press of his mouth against their temple.  They tell themselves they hate it, lips too numbed with impending sleep to protest aloud.

They mean to rebuke him when they wake.  Deride his terrible etiquette as a one night stand.  Tell him he smothered them with his body heat and hogged the blanket, contradictions be damned.  They spend a long moment internally repeating what they’ll say—studying his sleeping face, the stress he carries during waking hours so obvious now that they see him not bearing the burden.  The moment slips away when he opens his eyes, words momentarily caught in their throat as they admire the color of them, as they listen to his easy pillow talk.  The curve of his smile, the crinkle of his eyes at their stilted responses.  His warm embrace.

He holds them all night only to get on his knees for them in the morning.

The pleasure is so intense, they feel like they’re about to lose their own mind.

They dig their nails into his back when he fucks them, snapping his hips in a rhythm that steals their breath away.  They hold him with the same fervor he held them.  (As if that might be the tipping point—their last ditch effort—they’ve scared away anyone they’ve ever wanted just by wanting—)

And he says it; into their ear: “I love you.”  And his voice is wrecked but he still manages to make it sound like a prison sentence.  “I love you.  I have you, I have you, you can—”

They score a punishing red line down his scarred bicep with one cursed hand, gripping his hair with the other to wrench him away, to make him look them in the face.  He groans low in his chest, eyelashes fluttering—a true masochist—but his gaze meets their own with intent.  He pauses, pulses inside of them but doesn’t come.

“Maybe I have you.”  They spit viciously, though they don’t think they do.

He’s immune to their poisonous tone like he’s immune to their curse.

But they’re weak to whatever he is.  To his soft retaliation.

They try to tug their hands away from his reaching grasp, but he doesn’t even acknowledge their resistance.  He laces his fingers with theirs, saccharine sweet, pressing the backs of their palms into the mattress.

“I’m glad,” he says tenderly.  Affectionate like he has the right, like he’s anything more or less than the worst decision they’ve ever made.  “I want to be yours.”

His absinthe green eyes seem to peer right through them.  

“And you're mine, too…aren't you…?”

The only difference between Leander and the Senobium is the uniforms.

They wonder at the fact that they listened to Vere, believed him wholeheartedly, and still did this.

[supernormalblogname]

hwerg.... internal melty digestion thing but Its under the cut bc im nervy (minors dni please!)