#everything else was today

[fettiowi]

W-what if... I still think they cute...

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[lazylittledragon]

my absolute favourite genre of transphobic propaganda is when the caption is like “look at this poor, confused little girl who was forced to mutilate herself :(” and the picture is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life with a full beard and a body that would make thor weak at the knees

[hinamie]

so just know, I'm healing / even though it don't feel like it

insp

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[dailyhatsune]

hello, it’s hachi —> huh?

it’s been a while, i kinda wanted a shonen manga look to this —> huh??

‘hachi - donut hole 2024’ —> HUH???

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[wuntrum]

note to self 😁👍

[christakisbang]

[humbuns]

For pride requests, like, Shu has something going on. Something dysphoria, maybe ace too but maybe he moves past repulsion once he figures out the gender thing, I don't know, what's your read?

oh i 100% agree, i have always seen shu being a little uncomfortable with their existence because it reminds them that they are a little too human (in his heart and in his mind) so it will probably take them a while to realize anything in some form without layers and layers of deflections but they're getting there (this is the sole reason why i like to see shu as a gem slowly being polished, they were always brilliant but it takes time to see it and accept it yourself)

[yuwuta]

half of these tiktok relationship/break up/whatever pranks would not work on most of the jjk boys, but nanami is esp funny because he just becomes immune to it. you tell him you two should break up and he just sighs and nods, continues making dinner even as you flutter around him and try to start a fake argument. “kento, hello? i’m saying we’re finished!” and he just hums, and chops the vegetables, “that’s nice, dear. did you want red or yellow peppers this time?” 

[froggyfriendart]

Down, down, down by the river...

Link to Sixfanarts

Closeups under the cut

[lady-phasma]

Unreserved

Feyd x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI; penetration, oral sex (reader receiving), not really soft but maybe - maybe soft!dom Feyd?, spit as lube, kinda rough sex

Summary: Feyd can be himself with you and vents his frustration, no plot, just smut. no beta, appx. 1.8k words.

a/n: no physical description of reader; reader is not shocked by violence, very similar to Feyd himself was my goal anyway.

Feyd swept everything off the table with one stroke. His yell almost vibrated the walls. He was cool, calculated, stoic even, when he was in public. Here, however, just the two of you, he could let the emotions out. The only other place this was possible for him was in the arena. He stood, fists holding his weight on the tabletop, breathing heavily. His brow was furrowed, but began to soften.

You rose from your chair, barely rattled by his outburst. It wasn’t directed at you. As you walked toward him you assessed his state. He was angrier than you had seen in a while. The move from Giedi Prime had been a difficult one. He was honored to be named governor, but there was more here. Something new, perhaps.

You stood next to him, trailed your fingers up his forearm. The muscles and tendons were straining with his anger, like a bow string pulled taught. But at your touch he let his head droop forward just a little. It was enough encouragement that you continued to stroke up his bicep. You let your hand rest on his shoulder for a moment, watching, reading his body. His breathing had slowed but his fists still pressed hard against the table.

“My darling,” you smiled at him. You tilted your head to try to read his face. “What has happened?” He didn’t look up at you, but closed his eyes and growled. He straightened so swiftly that you snatched your hand away.

“My brother,” he finally turned to look at you. “Rabban is useless and has wasted so much time on these… Fremen.” He spat the final word.

You took a step closer to him. You held his gaze as you reached to stroke his perfectly smooth neck, your thumb caressing the back of his jaw, just below his ear. His brow began to relax but his jaw was still clenched tight with rage and frustration.

“You can make up for lost time,” you spoke low and soft. “You can correct his mistakes.”

“I have already taken steps to do so. We have begun preparations to burn them out of their rat holes.” His jaw relaxed slightly. You moved your hand further up his neck, fingers stroking the back of his head. He nearly closed his eyes as he pressed his head lightly into your palm.

Feyd exhaled and looked at you. His black teeth glinted as his lips parted, not in a smile, in something more like a sneer. You knew that look. He narrowed his eyes. Suddenly his hand was on your throat, his thumb pushing your chin up slightly. You smiled at him. He held you this way, not squeezing, for a moment before he leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Feyd was hungry, needy, searching for control.

You gave it to him. You slid your other hand up his chest to his neck and pressed your body against his. You let his tongue rove in your mouth as you moaned quietly. Feyd’s hand slid from your throat to your neck. His other hand gripped your waist firmly. When he pulled away you were more than a little breathless and lightheaded. He grinned at you. He moved your hands off his body and surprised you when he knelt.

He began to slide your pants off your hips and chills spread over your body. He guided you to step out of them. Then he slid his hands up the back of your thighs and cupped your ass in his hands. He flicked his eyes up to you briefly. You licked your lips.

Feyd placed his lips against you, his tongue flicking out lightly to taste you. You grasped the edge of the table as you felt a shiver run up your spine. You tried to watch him, watch his perfect lips on you, but your eyelids were heavy. He licked again. His breath was hot on your skin. When he took you into his mouth you did close your eyes. Your legs shook as he sucked and licked every part of you. He made the most lewd sounds, moaning and growling between your thighs.

You instinctively placed your free hand on his head as the tension in your core tightened. You felt his silent laugh vibrate through you. You were nearly panting with pleasure. Feyd’s hands roamed across your backside, fingers dipping under, between, anywhere he wanted. The sloppy, obscene sounds he made combined with the deft movements of his tongue fueled the heat in your belly. You felt muscles start to clench and relax, clench and relax. He held you steady with one hand on your ass and moved the other to explore where his lips and tongue could not reach. He stroked rhythmically against the exact spot he knew would unravel you.

“Oh Feyd,” you groaned. You stroked his head, trying not to press him hard against you. “I’m so close. Shit. I’m close.” He hummed in response. The feeling of that sound was almost enough to finish you. Then he stopped, leaned back, and looked up at you. You opened your eyes as you dropped your hand from his head. The sudden loss of his mouth from your skin was agony. But the look on his self-satisfied face, those glistening wet lips, his tongue languidly licking them… you had never seen anything as beautiful in your life. He raked his hand across his lips, wiping off the mess. You grinned.

He stood without speaking. His eyes glinted with something almost mischievous and you could see his erection straining against his pants. You swallowed dryly. Then he grabbed you by the hips and turned you to face the table. The force of the movement made you slap your palms on the table’s surface.

“Good,” Feyd growled from behind you. You grinned and shuddered. You could feel his eyes appreciating your exposed position. Then you heard him unfasten his pants. You leaned forward and placed your forearms on the table, giving him a better view. He groaned quietly as he watched. Then he spit on his hand and you could hear him stroking his cock.

Feyd took one step toward you and grabbed your hip. He stroked a few more times then positioned himself at your entrance. He moved his hand to your other hip as he slid in. So very slowly. He exhaled a sound that wasn’t quite a sigh. It was a sound of immense pleasure and familiarity. He pulled out slightly and then slid in just a bit deeper, once, twice more, until he was balls deep inside you. He stayed there for a moment. Your eyes were closed, forehead almost resting on the tabletop. You had been murmuring his name and obscenities until he paused.

He pulled almost all the way out and then pushed back into you fully with one stroke. You moaned, open-mouthed. He slid one hand up your back as he repeated the motion. Then he leaned forward just enough to grasp your shoulder for leverage. His cock went further than you thought possible as he pulled you back into his hips. You breathed his name.

At the sound of his name, Feyd began to pound into you. You gasped with almost every stroke. They were deep and long. He began to quicken the pace and you managed to glance over your shoulder. His eyes were focused intently on his cock disappearing inside you. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth. He liked what he saw immensely. You groaned and clenched around his cock. He fucked you harder for that and you let your head drop between your shoulders. The movement of your bodies and the sound of skin against skin were overwhelming. Your panting moans and Feyd’s quick breaths made the heat in your core build and twist. Like the tightening of a spring, you felt your climax building.

He slid his hand from your hip, up your side, and around to your chest. He all but slumped against your back, leaving no space between your bodies, as he pumped harder, faster into you. He tapped a booted foot at the inside of your ankle, signaling you to spread your legs wider. You did. He adjusted his hips and you made an unintelligible sound with his next stroke. It may have been his name, it didn’t matter, his cock hit a spot that made you feel as if you might lose your mind if you didn’t come soon.

Feyd growled with approval at the sounds he brought from you. He made his own delicious noises as he sped up. His grunts pushed you closer to the edge. You felt the coiling, tugging beginnings of your climax. Feyd also felt it, from deep inside you.

“Come for me,” just above a whisper, his voice full of gravel. “Come on my cock for me.” His words broke the dam holding you back. You gasped and cursed. He thrust his cock through the tightening of your muscles as you came. He was relentless. Your mind went blank and you squeezed your eyes closed.

“Fuck!” you yelled as your climax shook you. You leaned heavily against the table for support. Feyd didn’t hesitate or slow. He chased his climax as fiercely as he had brought about yours. The force of his thrusts pushed you closer to the table. You tried to brace yourself but could barely muster the strength.

Feyd barely pulled out at all; short, quick, deep thrusts were what he needed. His fingers dug into your flesh for purchase, leverage, in order to achieve the release he was so close to. You were nearly delirious listening to his muttering and groaning. Then you felt the rhythm falter. His strokes were barely strokes at all, his cocked stayed buried almost completely inside you. On one last thrust he stayed deep in you, his cum spilling out, warm between you.

You gasped as he said your name and ground his hips against you. You were panting, slightly dizzy from overstimulation. His breathing was loud from behind you, but slowing. You dreaded the inevitable: he would pull away from you and the empty feeling would seem, momentarily, stronger than the aftershocks of your climax. You didn’t whimper as he pulled out of you. You bit down on your lip and let your head drop back to the table.

Feyd chuckled. You looked at him as you slowly straightened up. He was tucking his cock back in his pants. You shot him a playfully suspicious glance.

“Thoroughly ruining you always improves my mood.” He grinned as he watched you stand shakily. He took your chin in his hand, between thumb and forefinger, and kissed you quickly and deeply. He pulled back and looked in your eyes. You smiled at him. His face was relaxed, all of his frustrations spent inside you.

Masterlist (with more Feyd)

[dandelion-roots]

[ID: a digital redraw of the scene where chuuya shoots dazai in the shoulder. on the top of the drawing is chuuya holding a guy to dazai's head in the red and grey hallways of the prison. on the bottom of the drawing is dazai's pained face. the gunshot is shown stylistically as hectic lines behind his bloody shoulder. over the image is half a quote from goncharov that reads 'if we really were in love you wouldn't have missed.' the signature says dandelion-roots. end ID]

This quote from Goncharov (1973) in relation to soukoku has been haunting me from before I even got to that scene in the anime (the full thing is: Katya- Of course we're in love, that's why I tried to shoot you/ Goncharov- If we really were in love you wouldn't have missed). Violence as a tool for communicating emotions, especially love and hatred, especially love and hatred makes me go feral- how could I not think of the iconic quote that says that katya's miss was a sign of a lack of love/a fake love when chuuya didn't miss? Just... losing it over here.

[alltheselights]

i still think about this blog post all the time

We don’t really know anything about One Direction. You can look at a hundred thousand pictures of someone and still not understand what it is like to be in the same room as them. You can be in the same room with them, watch them cavort onstage or even interact with them personally, and still know nothing about who they are. You can research meticulously, write a hundred thousand words about the heat rising off their skin and the quickenings of their heart, and still never touch the truth of what they are feeling, what they have felt. We cannot reach their truths if they choose not to tell them to us.

They’ve learned to be guarded, and thank goodness for that, since this world is so hungry for access to them. The demands of celebrity, the difficulty of navigating a public life as well as a private one — it’s enough to warrant another essay altogether. Suffice it to say that when myths are at play, insisting upon truth is dangerous. Believe in them, if you want; believe they’re yours, but don’t believe they’re yours alone, and don’t believe you hold their secrets.

See, at this point, the truth — the capital-T Truth of One Direction — is mostly meaningless. We actually do know One Direction — it’s just that we know them as characters, as archetypes, as the stuff of stories. Lazy journalists like to talk about how rock stars are worshipped like gods but it is true that One Direction form a kind of five-point pantheon, a collection of figures with their own known attributes and traits that come together to be all-powerful. We’d recognize their symbols anywhere, well enough to ace a pop quiz: To whom is the banana sacred? Who is known alternately as the possum and the lion? Which member would you call upon for the lifting of a heavy object? We know that Zayn is as both as beautiful as Aphrodite and as merry as Pan; we understand that Niall is the heart of the band the same way we know Yggdrasil lives at the center of the world. They become stories so easily, cast and recast again into new shapes, fitted against existing stories to gain new perspectives. Their smallest moves become metaphors. Their grandest gestures can be enough to anchor us to a new day.

We’ve already heard this week about how One Direction has a unique capacity to awaken anew a sense of wonder and joy in the universe, to ease pain and to diminish wrongs. When I say One Direction is a myth, what I mean is: One Direction, like any good myth, help us tell stories about ourselves to ourselves. One Direction help us unravel the great mystery and terror of being alive in the universe. One Direction help us make sense of the shapes of things, help us see what a person can be or could be or could embody: luck, strength, charm, joy, grace. We adorn our bodies in honor of them, we paste icons of them on our walls. We whisper and shout and sing their words, in the good times and in the bad ones. They are for us, and we can always rely on their magic. They’ll be gone someday, of course, but that doesn’t mean they will be really gone; Troy fell thousands of years ago and my high school mascot was still the Trojans. One Direction will part ways and pass from this earth, as everything eventually must, but who knows the last time a mother will turn to her daughter and whisper once more the ancient proverb: “They were just normal guys, but terrible, terrible dancers.”

[zelkam]

— boyish lyrics by japanese breakfast