#i am eating this show up

[respectthepetty]

Century of Love's ending this episode got me like . . .

The way I screamed.

Several times.

[uhhhhmanda]

Holy shit, episode 9 of Connection has me SCREAMING!!!!

[splankie]

is blowing up a volcano after ur first kiss couple goals

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[mossy-aro]

i hate to be a Downer but no i don’t think making the tenth generic post abt how ‘true love’ is and always will be the most powerful force in the universe and that nothing else compares gives you a personality actually. sorry.

[naffeclipse]

What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?

I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au

Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.

Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.

The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.

It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.

But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.

His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.

But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—

He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.

He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.

You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.

He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.

Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."

You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.

The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.

[myokk]

soft🥹

[not-fitzwilliam-darcy]

i just realized that making a mixed tape is today's equivalent of making a spotify playlist oh this bugger was in LOVE love

[kermitbread]

ya'll ready for pain next year

also, shameless self-plug! comms still open here :3

[hermanunworthy]

drew some amsterdam live show hermie moments -guy who wasnt even at the amsterdam live show

[theheartnexttophan]

Was Phil just eating a midnight snack of salt water taffy? Did he wake up in the middle of the night and decide he desperately needed taffy right away or was he just still awake after everyone else? He’s so preciousss

[corpsentry]

eulogy

[adanaac]

ok anime youve sold me on the uniforms thing!!!!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[luna-the-cretar]

*Gricko (and Frost? Maybe?? Don’t remember) getting the love curse throughout the carnival* haha, what a funny situation! :)

*Kremy getting the love curse during episode 15* wow, that’s oddly convenient

*Gideon getting the love curse during episode 26* ���there’s no fucking way this is a coincidence anymore

[sholmeser]

so like it’s 1999 and solid snake is in zanzibar land and gray fox tells you that all he can do is fight. it’s all he has and it’s probably all you’re ever going to have, too, because deep down you know your father is right, you know he is right as you click the lighter and burn the flesh off his skin, you know he is right when he tells you, this will never go away. i am always going to be a part of you. it’s 2005 and solid snake is in shadow moses island, alaska and gray fox tells you that’s good, snake. hit me harder. do it more. that’s good. when you meet meryl you kill the guards, and then snake thinks he loves her, so you kill psycho mantis for her, ocelot tortures you and you withstand it for her, you beat liquid to a pulp for her and while his blood is on your fists he smiles and tells you that you two, you’ll always be the same. gray fox means violence means meryl means violence, so what’s love if not that? what is it if not the feeling of broken bones under your knuckles, if not the smell of your father’s burnt flesh? but she's too young, she doesn’t understand you and she couldn’t if she tried, because she’s eighteen years old and doesn’t know any better and doesn’t understand that after you sleep with her you’re going to get up and let the pillow grow cold, she thinks you’ll tell her everything and when you don’t, because you can’t, she’ll leave you. you kill him with your fists and for her you destroy shadow moses and you hear him say to you again that’s good, snake, that feels good, do it harder. but it isn’t a coincidence that in mgs1 you meet otacon at the same time you meet gray fox. otacon who is so scared of battle he pisses his pants and otacon who cries over a woman who could never love him back and otacon who thinks good people like dogs, kind people like dogs, otacon who passed you a meal, ready-to-eat and a bottle of ketchup across the bars of your cell and when you ask him why the fuck are you here if you cant help me he says to you, i thought you might be hungry. otacon who gives you her handkerchief that was once her mother's and will be hers once again when she dies, when you rest it atop her glazed-over irises, a cycle of love. she was a good person, snake, and so are you. she liked the wolves and you do too. otacon who cries over his baby sister’s little body, who blames himself for being seventeen years old under the touch of the woman who should have been his mother. otacon who when it's 2014 will make you the solid eye and the octocamo suit and the mk. ii to keep you safe and say to you, don't hurt anyone, snake. will say to you: i'll follow you wherever you go, like this. otacon who blubbers like a baby and cries too much and who, when it's 2009 in new york city, you have to say to, go rescue the hostages, because if you don’t he’s going to crumple in on himself, a dying star. this is how you love, you don’t say to him, and how i love, because you showed me how. wrap your arms around his shoulders and hope it’s enough.