#im also broke but you know

[shoehedd]

I've only been back in the hobby since July and I'm already so sick of new Space Marine models every few months

[introspectivememories]

too many of you guys think nico is the loser and not lewis for letting the divorce go on for so long. like they're both losers about each other. emotionally constipated idiots who can't talk about their toxic homoerotic friendship that imploded on itself like 8 years ago and are now making it everyone else's problem. yeah nico's on television or in beer gardens talking about lewis all the time but like every other month some reporter is like "lewis, what's your favorite moment in your career?" and lewis no hesitation is like "oh man, karting, y'know? everything was simpler then" and then spends another six months skirting around nico's name. like this whole thing they're doing in the media isn't some kinda extended foreplay for them. they're both still pressing on the bruise to make sure it's still there!!! every few months, they're literally just asking on public television, does it still hurt for you like it does for me? and like clockwork, someone will release new information about them or one of them will say something about each other (in my heart, he's still my best friend/yes... and teammate) and the answer will remain the same, yes, of course, always.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

everyone's favorite menace to society

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[transformersbrainrot]

Yall ever think about how Megatron must've compared himself to Orion before the war...

Think about it: You're a miner who got arrested and forced to kill for entertainment, and you have all this righteous anger and resentment towards the world that you yell about into the void, and somehow... somehow, your words resonate with this person who is friends with, practically family, to so many of the Senate and the elite he should be everything you despise but somehow when you meet all he can talk about is how much your words mean to him and how what you're saying is important and valuable. He's everything you never were allowed to be. He has the perfect life, and he looks up to you? Do you think it inspired him to try more? I wonder how much sooner Megatron might've snapped if Orion had never been in the picture? Orion thought so highly of him, and I can't imagine Megatron could think of himself the same way. Even with Orion's encouragement, do you think he thought of himself as bad because Orion was so good and they were so different? I don't think he ever figured out what Orion saw in him, and it breaks my heart.

[twitchyglitchy]

What do I have to do to get out of here? Who do I have to beg on my knees to so I can leave?

Get me out of my house

P@yPal: twitchyjayson

Current Goal: $55/$800

[wildechildwrites]

Limerence

Looney Tunes Part Three

Konig/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: 18+, Masturbation, romcom antics, may make you kick your little feet.

No use of Y/N

Summary: You and König have dinner together. He thinks about you in the shower.

A/N: I'm alive! sorry about the delay. I promise you'll fuck in the next chapter

AO3 Link: Looney Tunes

König responds to your usual greeting with a grunt, eyes flickering down to you. He’s in fatigues again, covered in what is definitely blood, filling the elevator with the smell of iron and sweat. You can read the tension in his shoulders, the way he slumps into himself. A wave of sympathy washes over you. 

“König,” your voice surprises both of you, and you clear your throat. “You look… tired.” 

He gives you a shrug and a noncommittal noise. He helped you carry your groceries, and he got that light in the parking garage fixed for you. Favors are not weird. You press on.

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up and I’ll make you something to eat?” you say shyly. “Not cereal. If you tell me your apartment number I can bring it up to you?” 

The soft look in his eyes is almost worth the panic you feel when you get back to your apartment and realize you don’t have anything in your fridge. You throw together some pasta, mentally cursing yourself for never buying fresh parmesan. 

König lets ice cold water run over him, blood circling the drain. Even with the chill, his dick stands at attention. He curses into the silence, fighting a losing battle against his self control. You’ll be here soon, sharing a meal, all alone with him. He’s been so good. So patient. 

 You were completely unaware of the grasp you had on him, inconspicuous words branding themselves into his brain and bringing him to his knees. 

König wants you, wanted you ever since that first interaction. You seemed so unafraid of him, unaware of how easily he could snap your pretty neck. Your survival instincts could use some work, so clueless to his shadowy presence behind you, overly friendly when everyone else was running scared.

You were adorable. Delectable. Stumbling into him, wasting your breath on whatever silly thought popped into your head. Letting him barge into your life without complaint. He wonders if you'd let him inside of you with just as much ease. 

Doubtful, with how big he is.

His grip around his dick is so tight that it's painful, but he fights on, eyes scrunched tight, imagining how tight your pussy must be, bucking into his hand. He'd have to stretch you open first, make you cum on his fingers before he could even think of fucking you.

You’re looking up at him, eyes dewy, lips parted as he slams his hips against yours. You gasp every time he’s fully inside you, crying out and digging your nails into his back as his cock drags against your g spot.

"Sei leise häschen, you don't want the neighbors to hear." he coos down at you, dick throbbing when you whine in response. 

In the aftermath, he feels dirty, shame curdling his desire. 

You were so sweet. He could imagine you right now, humming in your kitchen, making dinner for him. König washes himself quickly, his traitorous mind still full of the thought of you. 

Something about you, so light and ridiculous, brings him to the brink. He had never intended to kiss you that night. You had been far too drunk, but something about holding you in his arms had made his cock rock hard and his reason desert him as you blinked up at him, confused and a little frightened. You had tasted better than he thought you would, so warm and soft, melting into it, and he had wanted to eat you. 

He pushes down the memory of the way your lips felt on his when there’s a knock on the door. 

The door to König’s apartment swings open, and you make eye contact with the muscular planes of his still damp torso, laced with scars and bruises. Your traitorous eyes follow his happy trail down to the sweat pants sitting dangerously low on his hips before you’re able to catch yourself, face burning as you snap your head up to look at him. 

“Sorry häschen, I lost track of time,” König says carelessly, pulling the t-shirt in his hand over his head. You exhale quietly, your thoughts an incoherent screech. The t-shirt does nothing to hide his form, stretching across his pecs, his biceps bulging. He smells amazing, something cleanly masculine, and your head swims at the proximity. He smiles at you in his odd, crooked way, and looks down at the dish cradled in your hands. 

“What did you cook for us?” He asks.

“Uh…” God, you’re articulate. You look down at the pasta, trying to pull yourself together. “I just threw together some ziti. I hope it’s okay.” 

“I am famished, I’d be happy with cereal.” He steps aside, and you get your first look at his apartment. The set up is similar to yours, everything in the same place, but his is bare. The furniture is nice, all blacks and grays, but there’s nothing on the walls, not even a tv in the living room. A bookshelf is the only real sign of life, filled to the brim with books. You make a beeline for the kitchen, placing the hot dish on the stove. 

“Where do you keep the bowls?” you ask, reaching up to open one of the cupboards. König soundlessly enters the kitchen behind you, and he crowds in close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body as he grabs the bowls from the top shelf. Between this and the way he touched your face the last time you saw him, you wonder if he’s purposefully fucking with you. 

He sits an appropriate distance away from you on the couch, which gives you enough room to start having coherent thoughts again. You study him as he wolfs down the food, vindicated when he finishes an entire bowl and helps himself to more. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the tracing of some ugly bruises forming on his knuckles.

“Rough day?” you ask. He sighs, leaning back, head thunking softly against the wall. You watch his adam's apple move up and down as he swallows. 

“You have no idea.” he finally murmurs, his eyes slipping closed. 

You take a private moment to admire the contours of his face, the jagged, slightly crooked set of his nose, the light scars littering his skin. Your eyes trace down his long neck to his collar bones, and you stop yourself from lingering any lower. That was a dangerous game to play. You break out of your indecent contemplation, rising to your feet and taking the empty bowls to the sink.

“Come back here,” König’s voice has a petulant edge to it, his eyes are open again, tracking your movements. He pats the couch next to him, and you tentatively move to sit down, trying to give him space. You don’t want to overstep. He lets out a huff, one large arm reaching for you, pulling you towards him, crushing you against his chest. You squeak in surprise, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. You lay your head on his chest. His heartbeat is loud against your ear. 

The room is dark when you wake, König’s voice rumbling in your ear, “Wake up, little one.” 

You’re groggy, and disoriented, trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings.

“What time is it?” Your voice is scratchy from sleep. There’s a dim light coming from the bedroom, and your eyes slowly adjust.

“It’s almost midnight. You’ve got to scurry back to your hole, häschen,” König says, but he’s still got his arms wrapped around you, trapping you against his body. “Or maybe I just won’t let you leave,” his voice is almost playful, but there's a dissonant chord to it. You wiggle against his grip, and after a beat he releases you, allowing you to stand. 

“M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a yawn. You pat your pockets to make sure you’ve got your keys and phone and head towards the door. König trails behind you. When you hesitate at the door, you’re struck with deja vu, the similarity of last night. 

“Thanks for dinner,” he says softly. You smile up at him, then steel your nerve. In a quick motion, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him to your level. You place a quick kiss on his lips and try to pull away, but he stops you, wrapping his arms around you, dragging you in for another kiss. His mouth is warm against yours, hungry and insistent, and you let out a gasp when he nips your bottom lip. When he pulls away, his pupils are dilated, his cheeks flushed. You both stare at each other breathlessly. 

“You’ve got work early,” he says, his voice low. “I’d hate to keep you.” 

You’re suddenly self conscious, hyper aware of the soft dismissal. He’s not wrong, but you wanted him to want you to stay. “Have a good night, König,” you murmur. He softly kisses your forehead, and you creep out the door. 

You can feel his eyes on your back all the way to the elevators.

○○○●●●○○○●●●○○○

Taglist

if you want to be tagged for the update let me know in the replies.

@whos-fran @crazy-phan-girl13 @rebelatbay @kaeriustehe @envy-kitty @dillybuggg @mxblobby @nakedcrackers @aigeneratedprincess

[yomeiu]

can you see me clearly?

[bloodonmysqueegee]

Leaked atsv scenes trust me (part 2)

My humor is still lacking

[wis-art]

Women, so pretty, so shaped, i am so lesbian,,,

[medicalunprofessional]

flood

~♫

[generalsmemories]

every time i see someone shit on the xianzhou story quest on twitter i die a little bit inside.

[mushyfart]

I just read the french adaption of the original lovecraft reanimator story and in celebration I drew their/lovecraft's version of him😋😋🎉🎉

bonus: some horribly translated pictures from the comic that I liked:

"West will collapse. For long months, he had dared such events. In some sort, he was waiting for them.. There are still, a few years ago, I could have had a compassionate gesture, but at that moment, I was totally incapable of it."

______________________

(FIRST PANEL) "Herbert spent most of his life in Boston. The West family lived in a modest apartment, in which the father had built an office where he received his patients."

(SECOND PANEL) "Pragmatic, he chose to care for the sick, rather than treat the illness (/rid it from their body)."

(THIRD PANEL) "Herbert's grandfather, Luli, had devoted his life to research. He lighted all his life against poliomyelitis, in search of a serum, or a vaccine.. I don't know anymore (/any more?)."

(FOURTH PANEL) "In vain, he died of it."

(FIFTH PANEL) "Herbert only knew him through what his father said. His words were impressed with deep respect. He was before, fully aware of the capital importance of their respectful choices. Very early, Herbert knew that, he too, would become a doctor."

(SIXTH PANEL) "He was then attentive to what was going on in his father's office... who encouraged him in this path as much as he could."

_______________________

(FIRST PANEL) "In any case, until that October evening when a fire ravaged the immelibile."

(SECOND PANEL) "Herbert was the only survivor."

(THIRD PANEL) "He then threw himself into studies; he was brilliant. Driven by a thirst for knowledge, he spent more time in libraries than with the aunt who had taken him in providence. As soon as he was able to enroll in medical faculty, he committed his meant inheritance to financing his studies."

______________________

I also really enjoy the panel of West leering at the lit fireplace, completely fixated. I think it very well reflects his memory of the incident and how it still lingers, especially with how it affected him psychologically, and is overall (in my opinion) a very good visual representation of how trauma can effect both the brain, and the general behavior of its victims. (I'm not actually sure if the last panel was a purposeful reference to the incident with his parents' death, but it'd be a very interesting detail if so.)

_______________________

"After the war, circumstances made that we were separated for a few weeks, which I'd taken the advantage of setting up alone in Boston. I live West sporadically (??). I sat that he was no longer the man impermeable to fears and emotions that he was. Line (/like?) some sort of relief overwhelmed me. He was not a cold, inhuman rock, and I was not the fragile, emotional invert. Little by little, I understood that he was living in permanent terror, and in a state of growing depression. The latest events of his military career had left sequelas(?), if not physical, at least mental."

[possamble]

I'm not allowed to be on social media for more than two seconds today but I just wanted to say that Laios will absolutely have his own reaction to all this as someone who would die for Falin but has also imprinted on Marcille as his Emotional Support Comphet White Girl Not-Girlfriend along the way

[hammill-goes-fogwalking]

I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI. I HATE AI.

[robot-singularity]

Alright, in honor of @oldbutchdaniel 's Fan Fiction Fridays, I had an idea for how the 70s chase era of devil's minion might go, but I'm not great at full fledged writing so! Plot beat bullet points:

Daniel wakes up in a drug den, dried blood down to his ankles, massive neck wound, and the knowledge that vampires are real. He then realizes that, shit, he doesn't have the interview tapes/any solid evidence that would prove it.

Goes back home, patches himself up, and within a week decides to backtrack to Divisadero street and try to remember which apartment they were in. Maybe Louis left something, anything that could be concrete evidence that vampires exist and he was attacked by one. Or better yet, he might find a single cassette of the hours of recorded tapes.

So, Daniel heads towards Divisadero, and, with the slightest bit of self preservation, decides to go during the day. Vampires can't go out in the sun, so. Should be safer, right? 👍

Cut over to Armand, in the main room of the apartment, cleaning up, patching the wall, trying to fix the northward slant of the floor, when he looks up and Daniel's standing in the doorway. (Maybe the door wasn't locked, maybe Daniel picked it, maybe he went to pick it and found it was unlocked.)

They stare at each other for a beat. Armand thinking that there's no way this boy is That stupid. Daniel thinking oh shit, I just broke into this guy's house. This kind of? familiar? looking guy? Which could either be deja vu or I'm still mildly concussed.

They talk back and forth for a minute, until it eventually devolves into Daniel getting told to leave, refusing, and then Armand asking hey, how fast can you run? I'm going to hunt you down, so. Go, now. Start running.

Daniel books it, out the door, down the stairs, door opens, door closes. Starts down the street, only to slow, stop, think it over, and starts going in a different direction, patting down his pockets to see if he has any money for either a payphone or a taxi or maybe a plane ticket if he can manage to get to the nearest airport.

And! The chase begins.