#he tried so hard!! he tried so hard

[vaguely-concerned]

that last scene in fatal journey where nie huaisang has to support nie mingjue for him to keep upright, harrowhark's arc in harrow the ninth*, and the 'O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven/Keep me in temper: I would not be mad' line from king lear all break my heart in exactly the same way. that precise thread of the ultimate, hopeless vulnerability and confusion that's at the heart of madness -- of realizing in glimpses that you won't even realize how far you've drifted from yourself and that you don't know how to stop it, you can't stop it. that's such a core part of nie mingjue to me, and I don't feel like I've seen a lot of real discussion around it considering how central I think it is to his character.

*also like harrow, nie mingjue is both 'mad' (im mentally ill. I'm reclaiming it. sometimes that does feel like exactly the right word for it) and also like. severely haunted. by a sword even lmao. they've even got the 'crushing weight of shouldering the responsibility of their entire house given to them at way too early an age under horrifically traumatizing circumstances' same hat/same hat! thing going on here. omg. nie mingjue is like if harrow was a big sensitive jock who cries at the drop of a hat and harrow is like if nie mingjue was a small wet ratwoman who does bones and catholic guilt. but the core is basically the same. I can't believe I'm right about this.

[chloesimaginationthings]

The next game in the FNAF security breach era..

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

If I had a nickel for every time Odysseus's crew experienced a mass casualty event due to killing an animal friend of a being with a powerful Godly father, and that God showing up to teach Odysseus a lesson of some kind before decimating his crew, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but holy shit is it unfortunate for the crew that it happened twice

[iwasbored777]

Me when Logan was about to walk away in the end and Wade was like "Logan 🥺" and that's all it took for him to stay... Y'all I can't they love each other so much 😭

[gojoest]

nanami kento tries so hard not to fuck you on your first date, it makes him feel like a terrible man. he’s not like this, usually. you just frustrate every single cell in him, sexually — he can’t believe this is happening to him, honestly.

it’s a pain, he acts cold and distant — he’s simply trying to hide his boner half of the time. he zones out while you speak — your lips are distracting, he can’t hear a single word you speak. he can only think of the many ways your lips would shape and shift when you moan and whimper his name the deeper he sinks his cock in you. also, can you fit all of him down your throat? oh, can you—

fuck…

his cock gets hard under the table, forcing a sense of panic in him while he ponders whether he’s visibly leaked and stained his slacks or not. terrified to look down, because he knows. he’s so fucked.

he needs to wait a bit before you leave the restaurant, to cool off a bit, calm down. but it only gets worse from there.

he drives you back home, but doesn’t leave the car to walk you to your doorstep. his cock is hard again, aching so bad it limits his movements. besides if he steps out and stands tall before you — you will see, this time you definitely will. he’s embarrassed. and on top of that, he feels like an ass, the lowest of the lowest, for treating you so poorly.

the entire car ride was torturous to him, courtesy of your scent so close to him in the passenger seat, along with the way you tucked your hands between your thighs every now and then — perhaps the awkward silence got you nervous. he wondered all the way to your house how you smelled and tasted, down there.

you think the whole date was a disaster, and that he’ll never call you again but little did you know, the first thing he did when he went back home was jerk off — not once, not twice, but three fucking times, thinking about you. furiously.

later, he texts you. you blink a few times in utter disbelief.

dinner tomorrow? i’ll cook

dinner — at his place, that is. he’ll change the bedsheets in the morning with freshly washed ones, because this time — he’ll fuck you.

[hinamie]

I'm always pushing you away from me / but you come back with gravity / and when I call, you come home

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

"You and me, Ethan. Together we go save Rose, and then we can grind Miranda into paste!"

[egophiliac]

Wait, the tsun event has a whole bit dedicated to Malleus bragging about what kitchen appliances he knows how to use? Twst EN just got the milk culinary crucible, which means at the same time Malleus is showing off, the entirety of the EN players are learning Leona doesn't know how to use a microwave. The timing really just makes it feel like Malleus is flexing on Leona XD

it's in Mal's card story rather than in the event proper, but yep! after teaching his tsum proper microwave usage, he takes it on a tour and very proudly shows off his extensive knowledge of household appliances. (except when he thinks his tsum fell into the washing machine and doesn't know how to unlock the lid, so he just. explodes it instead. hashtag just diasomnia things. 🤷)

I do think he and Leona should get into a fight about who has done a better job of learning how to use kitchen tools! Leona has the advantage of having grown up in the modern world, but Malleus has the motivation to actually do literally anything. who will win

[noodles-and-tea]

For the twins in time AU, I genuinely wonder what kind of people the young twins grow up into because of Stan’s/Ford’s influence. Especially if it takes years for the portal to get fixed.

(Sorry if it seems like I already sent this question, I don’t know if it got sent the first time I asked)

I haven’t fully fleshed out how Ford grows up in the past but I do have thoughts on Stan presently

[sunglassesmish]

this moment has had me in a chokehold for hours

[doctorsiren]

I had a thought

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[skyx-the-witch]

Vivziepop male character: *is supposed to be hot and attractive. Canonically everyone wants to fuck him, he is flirty, confident and makes everyone fall in love with him as soon as he appear. Hes got the best voice actor to make the most masculine and attractive voice to match his supposed sexiness. Everyone in the fandom talks about how he makes them wet their panties*

The fucking character design:

[shhhhimwatchingthis]

just started the X-Files after years of Pop Culture osmosis, parody, references and memes

But holy shit did none of you prepare me for the pathetic wet cat rizz of Fox Mulder. Puppy dog eyes every other scene. He loses every stand off with every other government agent, military op, co-worker he bumps into. Sassy little quips in between getting his ass kicked and the puppy dog eyes. he's deeply traumatized. he has no social life. he never knows whats going on. he's one of the smartest people in any room he's in and knows more than most what's going on.

This guy is just sopping wet vibes, desperate need to believe, and love for Scully. Character of all time.

[hinamie]

bunch of portraits

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

costco rotisserie chicken