#ignore this holy shit

[kassical]

After playing Nehrim and now re-playing Enderal through again, I’m having Thoughts about the effect the whole Creator cult in Ostian would have on the Prophet. I’ve been reading through the proclamations and the few bits of literature in-game that give us a more of a picture about the landscape of the theocracy in the southrealm, and there’s some crossover in the way the Creator there humiliated the worshippers, and how the High Ones in Enderal consider the Prophet and their entourage pathetic creatures for trying to fight against inevitability. Is the way the High Ones act after the initiation quest, and again during the infiltration of the Nehremese camp potentially linked to how the Prophets own experience with beliefs? We can choose whether the Prophet believed in the Lightborn ofc, but the cult is a different matter with how we can infer it was possibly the cult’s forces that killed the Prophet’s family. With the Creator cult proclamations talking about shame and humiliation and guilt, and the High Ones treating the Prophet (and humanity, sorta) like a petulant child who can’t leave well enough alone (and now I’m also thinking back to the dreams where daddy makes you feel helpless and also keeps shaming you), it all keeps whirling in my head that they feel related somehow, at least in themes.

(side note: now the prophet having the chance to be kind towards ryneus instead of telling him he’s just some dumb kid makes my heart ache more bc in a way the prophet is breaking the cycle of shame and guilt and fuck this game it has replaced my entire brain)

[icezansky]

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky 💕🥰💕🤯💍🫠😳😍🤪😊😊😊🫠🥰🥰💕🤭🤭🤭☺️☺️☺️👑👑👑💍🔥🔥🔥❤️‍🩹😍👑💕🥰💍☺️😳🤫💕💍💕🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😍🔥🔥👑😏😏👑🤯🤭☺️🤭☺️🥰😭😭😭😍🥰🔥🔥👑👑❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹����😢😊😢❤️‍🩹😊🤪🤭☺️💕🥰❤️‍🩹🥰🥰😍💕🥰💕💕🫠🤯😳🤭🤭🤭🤭👑👑👑🔥🔥🔥🔥☺️☺️💍💍💍💍💍💍😭😭🥰😍🥰💕😍💕🥰😳❤️‍🩹😳😢😢😢😊❤️‍🩹😊😊🤪

[erinarigby]

sgt peppers fem paul

[crowskullls]

I couldn’t be a minecraft creator because if I was doing freaky gay roleplay with my friends and then got called siblings I would just end it all

[decepticonaiden]

The Hero of Cybertron

[abacistat]

smallville timkon who agrees

lyrics from apple pie by lizzy mcalpine which is featured on my timkon playlist <3

[buttdumplin]

Polariods Pt 2: You’ve got intense baby fever and Simon makes a complete meal out of it, especially now that he’s got his trusty camera.

cw: poly 141, afab gn!reader, breeding, handjobs, this one has a lot more of the boys amongst themselves

word count: 1.8k

Part 1

One of Simon’s favorite polaroids is from a spontaneous session. It’s the night of your solo date and you’re both getting settled for bed when you reach over to him with a whisper.

“Can I confess something?”

“Anything,” he’s worried he messed up on your date, missed something or overstepped a boundary.

“I’m drowning in baby fever.”

He blinks at you, all the tension in his body suddenly gone.

“Do you… want to go raw? I know we haven-”

Simon’s on you with a bruising kiss before you can finish. The sheets are ripped aside and you can feel his fingers dig at the flesh of your hips as he scrambles to get your clothes off. He grunts and pushes at your knee with his to get you to lift so he can slide your bottoms off before he rips them, and you quickly oblige.

You’re laughing against his mouth when he finally pauses. He sits back up to look you over, his panting loud, the tent in his gray sweatpants proud and straining. Once he’s made sure you’re okay, that you do actually want this, he reaches for the little pink camera from the nightstand.

“Yes,” he finally answers, “and I’ll keep going until it takes.”

You gasp and immediately the flash goes off. He’s captured you perfectly: a high blush on your cheeks, your sweet lips parted in surprise, eyes shining with hope.

Simon does keep that photo secret for a while. He knows for a fact you haven’t asked the same of the other boys yet, still a bit too shy to bring it up casually. The picture, he thinks, serves as a reward for being so patient and careful with you as he’s taken the polaroids. He’ll let himself be a little selfish with it, at least for a short while. The boys won’t hear a fucking peep about this from him, not until he’s gotten your express permission to do so.

Once you give him the green light, he takes his time, going after the boys when they least expect it. He wants maximum effect, after all. He’ll meet with one of the boys per week, swearing them to secrecy, wanting to keep the suspense and surprise for each of them. And each time, he comes back to report their reactions in exquisite detail.

~

He is watching a movie with Kyle when he tells him. It’s just the two of them, snuggled together on the couch, Kyle’s head resting on his chest. The movie was innocent enough, one they’d seen a handful of times already, though it had quickly become a source of comfort. Simon launches directly into it.

“They want a baby.”

Kyle leans up enough to look Simon in the eye. He instantly thinks Simon is talking about you, but he forces himself to slow his thoughts a moment. Surely it’s his own hopeful thinking, his own desires speaking. The hesitation is clear on his face.

Kyle whimpers, his heart pounding so hard that Simon must be able to feel it against his own chest.

Simon pulls out the picture from his pocket, knowing it’ll answer everything for him. Kyle isn’t even thinking when he takes the photo from him, the snatching making Simon chuckle. He stares at the polaroid silently, eyes moving to take in every inch of you in it. When he turns to Simon again, the sweet warmth of his eyes has been swallowed by blown pupils. He licks his lips slowly, pressing his throbbing cock into Simon’s thigh. Poor boy got so hard so fast it must have hurt.

“I know, sweet boy,” Simon coos, “You’ll get your turn.”

“You can practice on me in the meantime,” he whispers into Kyle’s ear.

Two days later, Kyle is handed a polaroid of his own. Your hair is splayed out on the pillow, your mouth slightly open, your eyebrows turned up in what he knows must have been you begging, and your hand wrapped around the base of your neck. Shadows hide the rest of the image, but he’s already fully aware of what’s there. He asks Simon to repeat every detail of your reaction over and over again as he palms himself through his pants.

“Let me help you with that, love,” he gently pries Kyle's hands away.

~

Johnny is fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping and a towel that’s definitely too short wrapped around his waist, when Simon tells him. He’s pulling socks from a drawer, his back is turned to the room, when Simon speaks.

“They asked me to fuck them raw. Fill them up.”

Johnny whips around, some droplets flying to hit Simon gently in the face. He chuckles as he wipes his face, not missing the sound of Johnny stomping towards him. He opens his eyes to see Johnny’s towel barely hanging on, his cock now straining against the material and pulling at the easy knot at his hip. Simon takes the picture out of his pocket to show him, describing what exactly led to the moment he captured. There’s a quick flash of jealousy in those sharp eyes, desire temporarily blinding him to the fact that he’ll get to participate as well. Johnny takes a big steadying breath.

“No contraception at all?”

“None.”

He sees Johnny’s body tense, muscles clenching and releasing, his body swaying a bit from barely being able to restrain himself from lunging towards the living room where he knows you are. In the back and forth, the knot of the towel gives up, exposing what little it was hiding to Simon’s eyes. He can clearly see Johnny’s cock twitch with excitement, a fat pearl of precum already at his tip. Simon wraps his big hands around Johnny’s hips, forcing him the few steps forward to lick at his slit. Johnny hisses at the attention, hands fluttering at his sides until Simon grabs one of them and brings it to the back of his head.

“Give it to me for now,” and Johnny is lost.

Two days later, Johnny’s polaroid is delivered. Shadows keep their secrets again, but he can very clearly see you sitting and leaning towards the camera, breasts pushed forward and arms holding you up, lips swollen from kissing and glossy with spit, an eager smile on your face. Even with the brightness of the flash, your irises are completely gone. After long moments of admiring the photo, Johnny crushes his mouth to Simon’s, pulling him down and shoving him onto the bed to straddle Simon himself.

~

John is the last one to receive his. Simon knows exactly how explosive his reaction will be, so he wants to give John all the time he needs. It’s just the two of them in the kitchen, finishing up the last touches of cleaning before tucking in for the night. Simon waits until he sees John no longer has something fragile in his hands when he pulls out the polaroid. John’s interest is immediate and undeniable, hands clenching and yearning to touch. Seeing you half naked will always cause that reaction in him. But then Simon speaks.

“Wants to be bred. Properly.”

His head snaps up to look at Simon, eyes looking for even the slightest hint of this being a prank or a joke of some kind. When Simon gives a small nod and smiles down at him, John finally lets the words sink in. He looks back at the photo, his sharp inhale loud in the empty room. His chest swells, holding his breath from the excitement of just hearing it and having it confirmed. Simon can’t help himself. He gently nudges John’s face back up, pulling him in for a needy kiss.

“We all get a turn,” he says into John’s lips, drawing a long moan out of him.

Simon well knows John will never make a move without explicit consent, so he wants to make things as clear as possible so John can enjoy this. He can already feel John’s cock hard against his own, but he wants the man to fully have this moment.

“You’re next,” he presses the words to John’s neck, and the older man’s knees nearly give out.

Simon wraps him up in his arms and lifts John onto the counter, making quick work of his captain’s belt. John’s panting breaths are loud above him as Simon bites and sucks at the flesh of his neck. He doesn’t give his back a second thought as he bends lower to take John’s nipple into his mouth, using his teeth to graze it lightly, and sucking hard, just as he knows John loves. John’s already lost in the moment and Simon can see it. His own actions and the sheer potential of these news overwhelming John with desire. Still, Simon can do more for him. He reaches down with calloused hands, teasing John’s cock through his boxers, fingers focusing on the growing wet spot over his tip.

“So sticky for me already. Gonna stuff ‘em full, aren’t you?”

Simon spends the rest of the night with both of their cocks in his hand, making John cum over and over again, telling him about the lovely little sounds you make as you take his cum.

Two days later, Simon gives John his photo, the pride in his walk evident. John almost wanted to take the photo himself, but he wouldn’t dream of overstepping. He’s well aware that this serves as a bonding ritual for you and Simon. He’s also not sure he could trust himself to be able to still snap the picture.

John’s picture is of you already flushed and messy, hair clearly having had hands running through, eyes shining with unshed tears, and the single most euphoric smile he’s ever seen on your face, even with your bottom lip bitten raw. The base of the photo wrinkles a tiny bit in his grip, even as John holds himself back, not letting his own hunger crush the precious item. He takes in a big gulp of air, and launches himself towards the bedroom where he knows you’re waiting for him. John’s a man on a mission now, and he’s going to do everything he can to recreate the image with you. Maybe add a couple of his own marks on your skin along the way.

Once he’s able to take a break and give you a breather, John goes back to thank Simon by dropping to his knees and taking that big cock down his throat.

And they won't say it, because they don't need to, but one of their favorite parts of their pictures is the fact that it's clear Simon is fucking you senseless in every single one of them. He may not be in the pictures, but they don't need to see him to recognize his handiwork.

AN: Bless the saint that is @mikichko, she's seen this in every stage and was always beautifully encouraging. I appreciate the fuck outta you, girl.

Pictures of the boys are next.

[jaguarys]

I really wish Gaara's arc had been a little more involved because I truly don't think the sheer horror of it all is delved into enough. In the end it's sort of like he just. Snaps out of it. But then you start thinking about it and you're like. Oh. This kid literally could not sleep for years. Oh this kid was being tormented by Ichibi 24/7. Oh this kid had everyone trying to assassinate him when he was tiny. Oh this kid trusted one single person and they tried to kill him too and then died in front of him. Oh this kid was told everyone including his family hated him and that he was a monster and should die. Oh ok. Like sure murder was not the answer but also considering the circumstances he should've been even more out of it than he was

[marzipanandminutiae]

tumblr when mental illness makes you withdraw from company: nobody has the right to expect anything of you! take care of yourself! if they don't forgive you and act like nothing happened when you come back into the world, it's on them, not you! it's so very kind of you if you deign to try and overcome this for the sake of those annoying, awful people, but you don't have to if you don't want to! poor lamb!

tumblr when mental illness makes you need reassurance that people don't hate you: you should work on that. you should learn to compromise. expecting anyone on the other side to expend even a little bit of effort to help you is selfish and horrible. maybe just die actually

(NOTE: THE POINT HERE IS THAT BOTH SIDES DESERVE A DEGREE OF GRACE FROM OTHERS AND BOTH SIDES SHOULD WORK ON THEIR ISSUES. I hate that I have to explain it, but this is the Piss on the Poor website, so...)

[the-dormant-ocean]

Hiyori: Are you leaving? I'll miss you. Zoro:

[girlishwhimsies]

some of y’all just don’t like musical steve cause he’s black and you need to just get it over with and say it. like i’ll concede on some things like yes steve has a smaller role in the musical and two-bit has a bigger one whatever. but like movie steve doesn’t get a magical lore dump mixed into the movie that musical steve is lacking. you can use his book lore and add onto it using the lore renni has given us through his costume and similar things. part of being in a fandom is putting in the work. grow up and get over your own biases and realize the value in different interpretations.

[innieirving]

my roommate @latr1nal1a and i were discussing this scene in s1ep3 where petey is talking to mark in his basement

he mentions a department that no one has been to before. a department where you aren't allowed to LEAVE.

he is CLEARLY talking about the testing floor, where they are keeping gemma!!!! she isn't allowed to leave!!!!!!

so. this has been established. petey somehow stumbled across the testing floor. which then means that he knows about the exports hall............

a big question i've had the entire time while watching this show is how the FUCK does outie irving know about the exports hall. it's the kind of information that only an innie could know, and clearly innie irving had no clue about it until the OTC when he saw all the paintings.

so. how does outie irving know? who told him?

my leading theory so far was that reghabi was irving's contact. she seems to be the one with the most knowledge about the things going on inside lumon, so it would make sense that she would be working with irving.

HOWEVER, now that we've realized that PETEY knows about the testing floor.............who's to say it wasn't petey who told irving about the hallway? having been reintegrated, petey would probably have sought out irving as well!

let's go back to the message outie irving leaves over the phone in s2ep2

"you're not picking up. i get it."

whoever irving is calling, they HAVENT BEEN ANSWERING.

guys. i genuinely believe that PETEY might be irving's contact on the outside, and the reason he hasn't been able to contact him is because irving has no idea that petey died!!!!!

that's how irving knows about the exports hall.

[artisticxlly]

The protags live rent free in my head, so have a random array of headcanons!

casual outfits:

also, hands :)

aaaand morning drinks (ft. personal mugs):

[nimbusclan]

Interlude 2-3

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

Aw, one big happy famil-- oh, no. oh, wait,

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

[crwndsprkzy]

boyfriends

[answer2jeff]

⟡ 'Cause I want you. ⟡

thinking about jealous daddy!lip x spoiled sweet girl!reader rn.

❤︎ warnings: brief mention of a daddy kink, suggestive and mentions of sex but not smut, extremely NOT cannon lip (after S1), girly & hyperfeminine reader (but she's not a bimbo. don't even try to make this misogynistic I swear to god, just let me live my trashy pastel-grunge truth), intimacy, sweet and tender yet very angry and jealous lip.

also hi yes I'm back!! for now.

song that inspired this fic: I want you, by Summer Camp. ❤︎

if lip actually had the security and control to admit to his jealousy without finding statements to make in front of anyone who expressed the smallest amount of interest in you, the two of you wouldn't be sloppily making out against a stall door in the bathroom of The Alibi right now.

"I fuckin' hate when he looks at you like that," he breathes against your neck, almost sounding more worried for your safety, while simultaneously coming off as a promise to destroy the pale, dorky face of the customer that came in on thursday nights (seemingly just to stare at your ass when you'd turn away) if he ever smiled at you too enthusiastically ever again. your cheap heels clicked against the tile as you parted away from his lips and walked towards the mirror. you wore them to get tips. lip loved them, but hated that they worked on other guys. yet, he let you win. lip's arms wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed against your back as his mouth came to grant you a kiss on the side of your head. you frowned at the sight of your makeup nearly disintegrating. your hair fell flat, simply draping over your shoulders without the former magic of round-brush and blowdryer waves. unsurprisingly, lip seemed to like you even more this way.

it frustrated you, but you learned to appreciate his love for "the real you." if you could, you would kiss his lips so hard his entire fucking face would bruise for days. unfortunately, no amount of passion or intensity could achieve that. for now, you'll just hold his hand so tight that every knuckle would crack if you weren't careful enough, while he pounds into you, whispering praises of 'I love you,' and 'you're so goddamn perfect.' he wanted you to fucking cry as he caressed your cervix with gentle, deep strokes. and you did. hot tears trickled down your pretty little face that was red with the slap of lip's palm against your cheek just minutes ago.

but that wasn't of much concern right now. for once, all the two of you wanted was to get the fuck home. maybe lip could even run a bath if either one of you had decently warm water. you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into one last tongue-filled kiss of the night. he grabbed your hand before sneaking the two of you out of the women's restroom and running through dozens of people to get through the door.

"fuck, my feet hurt," you whined, feeling your shoes gnaw at your heels, forming what would become blisters by the morning. thinking you'd have to walk home in pure discomfort, lip cleared your doubts.

"c'mere," he lulled you towards him before kneeling down to remove your heels. as if you'd been watching cinderella, he removed each heel carefully, putting them down on the ground before turning around.

"what are you doing?"

"get on my back," he insisted, extending his arms and looking back to you.

"what? no!"

"do you wanna bitch and moan about how bad your 'precious feet' hurt the whole way back or not, babe?"

you were silenced. annoyed, you picked up your heels and held them with just the strength of your index and middle finger in each shoe. hesitantly, you climbed onto lips back and felt a giggle of anxiety erupt from you. he laughed back, likely not realizing you were more nervous than you were flattered. needless to say, he carried you the entire 3 blocks to your apartment. unfortunately you did have to walk up the stairs by yourself. and barefoot at that. but it was definitely worth it. after digging for your keys in your purse, lip cracked the door open and you nearly unraveled completely as you tossed your shoes onto the floor. you folded onto the soft duvet of your bed, your sheets melting into your skin like butter. feather pillows cushioned the landing of your face.

"tired, huh sweet thing?" lip cooed, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes. he then unbuttoned his jeans, balling them up and tossing them in a basket he hoped was a hamper. the sight of you in those jean shorts and tank top made him want to take them off, but not in the way you initially thought. he tapped your shoulder, telling you to turn over. thinking he just couldn't resist you, you smirked as he took off your clothes, even unclasping your bra. he lifted his shirt above his head and handed it to you. for a moment, you were confused.

"oh," you muttered.

lip saw the surprise in your eyes before you put on the grey t-shirt that absorbed the smell of cigarettes and his cologne.

"what?" he asked, planting a kiss on your forehead before crawling into bed with you.

"nothing," you cleared your throat, both enamored and slightly embarrassed, "I just thought you had something else in mind."

he wanted to laugh, but he knew of his reputation. the way his body craved yours when the words "please, daddy," hit his ears, and how just a kiss was enough to get him begging you to call him that sultry name again, telling you how much he loved to hear it leave your pretty mouth. so he didn't laugh. instead, he just shrugged his shoulders, playing dumb.

"I mean, I love fucking you, you know I do, but-"

"I get it, lip," you smiled, pulling the covers over the two of you. lip pulled you into his arms, his bare chest against your clothed breasts that felt soft and plush. moments like this mattered to you. it made you realize that he really was all about you. for once, your naked body only brought sex as a second, maybe even a third thought. it angered you, and yet it was so lovely at the same time. you started to question if it was really that insane to chain your feet together so he could never leave. but you'd never ask him. not because he'd say no, but because you knew he would and he wouldn't mean it. he already chained himself to you a long time ago. the day he saw you he melted his heart into yours.

"I love you. like, a lot," he sighed.

lip pulled away just so he could cup your cheek, gently and hungrily kissing your swollen lips. the look of greed in your pretty eyes entranced him once again. fuck, he loved you. he loved you so much he felt like he could wrap his arms around you and snap every bone in your fucking back if no one stopped him. and yet, he never hurt you. even just a slap of dominance across your beautiful face felt like too much somedays. so, it was rare.

"I love you," you said, your eyes darting around as you took in every detail of his face. "why did you do that for me?"

you were asking about the whole piggy-back-ride-home. its not like lip didn't do things for you. he did plenty, actually. lighting your cigarettes, helping you with homework before you graduated, renting books for you from the library so you could have as many books at a time as you fucking wanted, kissing you even when you had thick lip gloss on. but carrying you home seemed like something he would've taunted you for even asking for just a year ago.

"because I wanted to?" he answered in that same questioning tone, raising a brow and gently passing his thumb over your cheek, cradling your face gently.

"'cause I want you?"