#but yeah it's so pathetic

[g0thsoojin]

.

[sbeana]

the pool scene

[fudgecake-charlie]

to my IRL(s) who keeps sending me disco elysium memes despite the fact i haven't played it in months THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU. HELP ME. If people have ideas on this AU feel free to have fun with it considering I. have only a few!

[doomsdaybby]

heavily inspired by this audio ☺️🫶🏻 18+! MDNI!

Eddie is loud. Always has been, always will be.

He just can’t help it. Especially now, clammy forehead pressing into the heated seam of your jawline, nosing at the tender skin right below your ear, your staggered trembling breaths melting into the crown of his head.

It had been a while since you’d seen eachother, almost two weeks to be exact. Eddie hadn’t cum in about four days, which was at least ninety hours too long. So it took approximately only one hour before Eddie was showing you, with unrestrained pleasure, just how much he had missed you.

He’s fisting his cock frantically, slick smacking sounds and the carnal ragged shreds of his exhales drowning out the forgotten movie playing away on the television screen.

He’s panting, fucking heaving, and he may be getting too carried away but you would die before telling him to slow down. Not when you’re having so much fun watching him unravel.

You’re washed in an amber glow from the lamp adjacent to the couch you’re both splayed out on, illuminating each strand of Eddie’s hair a golden hue, your cheeks beating a dark cherry red.

“Wish it was your pretty pussy wrapped around me right now,” his breath is hot, a bonfire of disgusting words that has your thighs squeezing together and rutting against nothing.

“Wish y’could feel how hard I am for you. Fuck!” he grits his teeth, moans gutteral, biting down on his inner cheek hard enough to draw blood.

“This cock is so hard for you, I just wanna bury it so deep in you. Oh my goooddd, baby,” he just keeps going, twisting his wrist crudely right at the head, pretty gasps absorbing into your sticky skin and only amplifying when you crook your head down to spit into his fist.

You didn’t have to speak, not that Eddie even gave you a chance to do so. Stunned by just how desperate he is for it, for you.

So you listened, and you watched, and waited for your turn, pressing tender kisses into the blanket of curls that tickle your nose.

“Please can I cum? Can I? Can I? Please please pleasssee,” he’s drawling frantically, tripping over his own words, and he’s a whimpering pathetic mess. Drool collects at the seams of his lips, painting your skin wet and glistening.

“No, baby” was all you had to mumble and he was near sobbing, a tacky groan mulling at the back of his throat.

“Need to cum so bad,” a low mewl, gulping thickly. His strokes are almost violent, “Wanna feel you clench on this fucking dick. Aaaahhh, ah, ah, ooohhh fuck yes!”.

Your breaths flutter, chest rising and falling faster than you thought was possible. “You gotta go slow, my sweet boy,” you whisper despite your racing heart rate, the words catching tight to the back of your throat. You reach your hand down just for a second, wrapping your shaking fingers over his own to coax him into a more gentle rhythm.

“Jesus, fuck,” he spits gruff, thick unforgiving fingers that aren’t so preoccupied on his own pleasure travel to mangle the fat of your thigh, heavy rings pinching sharply at your skin and you almost yelp under the unhinged roughness of it all.

He picks up the pace again despite your delicate coaching, near writhing without reason next to you and he’s rocking his hip into the curve of your doughy thigh.

So you allowed it, the poor boy obviously needed it, he has made that much clear. You grind down against the couch cushion, you just couldn’t help yourself, your own mouth falling slack-jawed as Eddie continues his onslaught of profanity.

Of course you let him ramble himself to the edge of oblivion.

[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

[orangelemonart]

Episode 13 is wild but episode 31 is even wilder. Nice try boys, only the gentle slap of another girl can fix whatever the hell is wrong her.

source for joke

[saccharinerose]

Furina: Anyone I've ever worked with probably couldn't wait to get rid of me... Since I'm just an ordinary person now. They'll probably just laugh in my face if I go asking them for help... :(

Neuvillette, the second Furina asks him about booking the Opera Epiclese, the process for which is notably cumbersome and complex: Yes, I will take care of it immediately. Btw does this mean you will allow audiences (myself included) to enjoy your outstanding acting talents once more? 🥺

[chotachica]

Favorite part of The Dead Boy Detectives for sure is Edwin pulling literally every single age appropriate male character he interacted with. The absolute cunt ever

[occudo]

Hi this is the best explanation I can give. Behold:

The same picture. /hj

All right, that is quite accurate

[hellonpluto]

Shoutout to this frame from dreamscapers bc thats absolutely ford

And i havent seen anyone point this out so im assuming everyone thought it was just stan

But idk man looks pretttyyyyyy ford to me. Bill why are u background-checking ur ex for the billionth time u should know everything abt every little detail of him by now

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[cerealsnail]

I haven't grown as a person since 2016 this should not be surprising

[kifkay]

Winx memes once again

[s4lv4tions]

war god sukuna has no need for you. you know this as intimately as you know yourself.

he is a monstrous god, well-suited to the mantle he was given from birth; two pairs of muscular arms as thick as the average man’s torso, two cruel faces, a gaping maw carved into the hardness of his stomach. to peer into sukuna’s eyes is to see death and famine and destruction — wars raged long before you and long after you — and live through it all.

he has no need for you. he is perhaps more powerful than the entire pantheon, even the six-eyed-one and the curse-consumer, who swallows the sky every day to bring night. you have little understanding of the sheer magnitude of his power — your pathetic human brain can only fathom so much — but you know that sukuna, undoubtedly, is the very meaning of the word. and yet, he keeps you.

you are not a concubine, though he shirks those he has in favour of your company. you are not a general, nor an admiral, nor a soldier, and yet he seeks your counsel. you are not a mage, and hardly a grand priestess, and yet sukuna finds your door instead of that of his great temple, where hundreds live and breathe to serve him.

you had only reached the status of alter-maiden before your own temple was crushed to dust; little responsibility was given to you beyond tending the hearth, studying, and occasionally helping with chores. but sukuna dresses you in the finery of high priestesses — gauzy crimson dresses that bare your stomach and chest, fine golden jewellery and garnets that appear almost black in low light — and instructs you to dance in the way your superiors did. dances of worship, dances that he does not need, because he is already all-powerful.

the dances fit you like armour fits the weedy frame of a young boy — your legs don’t quite stretch far enough, your arms can’t move with a fluidity only gained by experience — but sukuna watches you like you are a sorceress, enchanting him with each step. he hushes uruame as they try to speak, insisting on remaining undisturbed during your worship — and when you finish, panting and glistening with sweat, your god only hums in satisfaction, grin all sharp-toothed and feral.

it must be blasphemous, you think, to perform such revered dances so clumsily—

but perhaps even more blasphemous, though, is the lingering touches your god fixes upon your waist; the hunger in his eyes as you dance; the scrape of his pointed nails against your jawline; the tent in his robes at the sound of your laboured breaths after dancing.

you fear the god of war means to have you in more ways than one — and worse still, you can’t find it within you to care.

[annakarenina]

Scarface 1983, dir. Brian De Palma

[luminique]

wrio x you pt. 2 because the people (me too) asked for it

you’re the only exception of people who were in his past that he’d try reconnecting with. he swore to himself that he never would but the memory of you haunted him every day and night.

working in the fortress didn’t even make it easier. he’d reminisce the past during his daily checks, filled with fights, scratches and blood, but you were each other’s rock in this cold and dark prison. sleepless nights where he’d go over to your bunk, you’d both be talking and laughing about the future until other inmates woke up to give both of you a good beating.

a letter wouldn’t hurt. signed and sealed, ‘Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, Wriothesley’ with the wolf insignia on the wax seal. he read the letter multiple times until he got sick of it and threw it in the trash. any and every free time he had, it was spent to write the perfect letter to you.

he even consulted sigewinne, clorinde and neuvillette for more opinions. it was honestly humorous to see the Duke be this… frustrated over something as trivial as a letter. his trash basket was overflowing with crumpled up pieces of paper.

“wriothesley, this letter feels too formal.” was a comment by clorinde about his 10th attempt. “you should add more emotion!” sigewinne responded after reading his 27th attempt. “i am not too familiar with matters relating to human love however i do believe that you have not conveyed that in this letter,” said by neuvillette regarding his 59th attempt.

he lost count of how many letters he had written, how many ink bottles he had opened, how many seals he had stamped. it was eating at him, and now the heavy weight of whether you’d even feel the same way back was beginning to creep in.

the ink pooled on the paper. he had run out of ideas, his hand shaking from the fear of it being imperfect. he couldn’t handle it anymore and let his emotions take over him. every word he wrote that night came straight from his heart instead of his brain, putting aside his own formality and rules for you. it’d be another scrapped attempt anyway…

‘With all my love, Wriothesley’, signed off with no wax seal. he had read somewhere that colored wax was used by sculptors when they made mistakes. this letter was no mistake, his love for you was no mistake.

he used his connections, specifically neuvillette and the maison gardiennage, to find where you had decided to settle down. he originally intended to have it sent to you by courier, but here he was, standing in front of your front door. to have the Duke come all the way up to the surface and hand deliver you his letter, oh how smitten he was over you. a quick fix of his outfit, brushed off any dust and fixed his hair before he knocked on the door.

he could hear your footsteps as you scurried over to the door, your voice behind it.

“i didn’t order anything. why is there a-“

you were cut off by the sight in front of you. his charming smile and blue-grey eyes that captivated you the moment you became friends in the fortress. he straightened up his posture, clearly taken aback by how much you’ve changed but it seemed to go both ways.

“good morning, i believe we have some catching up to do.” he said before holding out the letter for you to take. the sun was still out, there was tea in the kitchen and you had time to spare. next thing you know, you were sitting next to each other on the sofa and chatting about each other’s new lives, times changed yet feelings stayed the same.