#im so sorry babe

[repsolhonda]

GAGGED ME THATS RACING BABYYYYYYYYYY

[ossiums]

pynch

[mutualcombat]

*bites ur scruff*

[full on twitter]

[bosspigeon]

so bc i am a Gross Dude my friends i and sometimes rate our burps and my coworker (who is a teen girl) burped in front of me once and i instinctively rated it

so now every time she burps she looks to me hopefully for a rating and bc she has delicate little baby burps i now have to create an entirely new Burp Rating System unique to her bc i rate anything below a 5 and she looks at me like this

[molliemoo3]

All I wanted today was an Alex Palou win, and the only Spanish man to lose today was him

[mohntilyet]

illario as the grandchild that is most like caterina is something i'm loving to chew on. the grandson that took her lessons to heart the most. kill anyone who sees your face and knows your name, "we are not revolutionaries", the first out of the two to prioritise the contract. power at any cost, and the only one to lean into the unnecessary abuse that their grandmother told them was tradition. why is anyone surprised he allied with the venatori? and then there's illario's considerable skill in infiltration and manipulating any mark, he has always had the charisma that lucanis lacked. illario isn't attached, he has/can/will use someone and immediately drop them; "that does free me from promises i don't intend to keep". he can lie about how much he cares so well that he fools a magister into believing he loves her. he kills zara without hesitation to cover his own tracks, meanwhile lucanis blindly promises a young girl in the middle of a siege that he will help her find her father. even the lessons about family stick with him, and in this entire messy power struggle, he never actually orders anyone to directly kill caterina or lucanis, not until he's backed into a corner.

and even after all that. despite even lucanis believing illario should be first talon, lucanis is still the better killer. illario is not strong enough to be the brutal assassin caterina needs him to be. so when lucanis seems to fill the role his mother left, grief and love for her dead heir apparent remains, and any of the other qualities caterina needs in her next talon doesn't matter. whatever his mother was, lucanis has to be. what illario does doesn't matter, because he will always be second best to caterina's memory of her favored daughter.

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[arawsuu]

Save me Astarion..

Astarion save me.,.,

Astarion...

[schwarzgeier]

Am I aware that Replika units probably power on perfectly everytime and are built for efficiency? Yes.

Is that gonna stop me, from headcanoning Falke as a non-morning person? N o.

[gncrezan]

@chrysanthemumgames in the hades game style! been putting a loooot of hours into hades 2 so this was only a matter of time (and the full portraits under the cut!)

[erwinsvow]

I ACC LOVE UR ACC SMMM

Btw, can you pls do a bsf!rafe (who's low-key a little perverted) with shy, innocent!reader??

haha i feel like everyone looves pervy best friend rafe. this is like maybe if kook trio reader was actually shy reader

the boys were so nice, such good friends to you. you hadn't expected that a friendship between parents would lead to them inviting you into their exclusive boys club, the fourth in their trio.

but all of you got on surprisingly well—you could tell they were censoring themselves sometimes, maybe a couple less inappropriate jokes, drinking a little curbed because you weren't quite comfortable yet handling three drunk boys.

topper and kelce were nice, if not a little too polite. they never really bothered you, though they tried to include you in their conversations and make an effort.

no, it was rafe who really included you. he was everything a good friend should be—picking you up and dropping you off, never letting you walk home alone even if you guys were just hanging out at tannyhill down the road. he would get you your drinks and make sure you were a part of the conversation, never letting you sit alone or feel ignored.

he was being a great friend.. if not a little too much, too posessive. he didn't like when you talked to other boys, sometimes even if you were entranced in a conversation with top or kelce. sometimes it felt like he found reasons to drag you away.

and sometimes, though you thought you were imagining it, that rafe wouldn't actually do such a thing, you felt like he was touchier with you than others. he would often rest a hand on your knee at lunch, keep you on his lap at a party when you were too drunk and giggly to know better, to know this wasn't normal.

"that girl was looking at me.." you tell rafe, seated next to him on the couch. he'd just had you in his lap, but you'd crawled off to go freshen up, returning to the spot next to him. his arm is swung around your shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"who?" he asks, glancing around. he doesn't see anyone.

"over there. she's been looking at you all night. i think we gave her the wrong idea, rafe-"

"wrong idea?"

"she's gonna think.. y'know. that we're together, or something." he doesn't even turn to look around, to see who it is.

"who cares, kid? let 'em think what they want." you look up a little confused, and rafe leans in to talk into your ear. "lions don't care about the opinions of sheep, right?" the way he says it, though any other day you'd smack his arm and laugh, makes your whole body shiver.

"yeah," you agree, not wanting rafe to think you disagree with him.

he spots kelce and top in the distance, walking closer, and he scoops you back into his lap with two strong hands on your hips. "gotta make room," he says while you squirm.

you settle in though, making yourself comfortable. he has to try hard not to keep staring down the front of your dress or moving too much—doesn't want you to know he's hard for his new little best friend.

yet, that is. no, he's gonna have you folded in half on his bed that he keeps telling you is perfectly fine to sleepover in, bent over in the back seat of the truck he picks you up in, pushed against the wall in the bathroom at the club where he takes you to show you around.

he's playing the long game, and he's enjoying it, a hand on your waist while you sip on your drink and talk to him about something, not kelce or top.

[machinemimi]

Mouthwashing Spoilers//

-

Thinking about how Anya confides in Curly and tells him about what happened to her after he insisted she could tell her anything and that he would make sure everyone is safe, only to (in her perspective) attempt to kill everyone after talking with her perpetrator.

And despite everything, Anya still takes care of him. Even though it's uncomfortable, even though she hates it, even while dealing with her first trimester because that's her title. Nurse, caretaker,

Woman.

[catcze]

NO BC LISTEN.

WIRO REACTING TO HIS CRUSH/LOVER WEARING A SUIT. LIKE IT FITS THEIR FRAME SO PERFECTLY AND SNUGLY AND WDYM “WHY IS HE LOOKING” OFC HE’S LOOKING LIKE HELLO???

I can’t tell if he would shameless let his eyes roam or would avoid looking at them KDIDKSKSK WIRO BRAINROT IS SO REALL

KAJNSDSA BROOO OMG okokokok something along the lines but 👀

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

You're fiddling with the cuffs of your suit as you exit the changing room, a frown on your face. You're nervous— of course you are! It's not often that you're invited to a high-profile, black-tie event like this, and you'd rather not stick out like a sore thumb.

Wriothesley, who sits comfortably in a plush armchair, has been invited before though. But time and time again he's turned down the invites with some of the most ludicrous excuses. 'A monster is attacking the fortress' is one of his most used ones, closely followed by 'a bird shat on the shoulder of my suit.' But you wonder why he's accepted this time, despite his distaste for the limelight. Well, you shrug, pocketing the thought for later. At least you won't be going alone.

"What do you think?" You pose the question to him, still frowning as you look down at yourself. Did you look okay? Was the fit alright? Did this color wash you out? You had splurged on this (well. Wriothesley splurged on this, technically. He had said it's a gift) and had the suit custom-done, so it should fit your measurements to an exact, but... you frown, not able to shake off the nerves.

And it doesn't help that Wriothesley hasn't said anything since you've stepped out, either. Merely stares at you, eyes roaming your figure. Even at your question, he acts like he hadn't even heard it. Does the suit look that bad?

"Wrio?"

That seems to reach him, and he blinks, finally registering that he's been staring at you— and that you've begun to stare back.

"Oh, uh. Yeah, it looks nice on you. The tailor did a very good job," he says, glancing away, hoping you don't see the red tinge to his cheeks or his ears.

"Really?" You ask, evaluating yourself in the mirror with a frown. "I don't know. I feel like I look like a mess."

"if you look like a mess, then I dread to think what I look like," he says, glancing at you for a second, getting an eyeful of you in that damn good suit, and feels his mouth dry up again. Wriothesley turns his eyes to the corner of the room, finding the fake palm plant there incredibly interesting. Barely more interesting than you. In that very flattering suit. It emphasizes your body very well, he thinks. Makes him see just enough of you while still leaving some to the imagination. And the color you chose for it... red and black, to match what he'll wear, you said. He sighs, troubled, because just the mere memory of it has his heart racing and his palms sweating.

You keep criticizing your reflection for a while longer, and it takes just enough time for Wriothesley to work up the self-control to look your way. "You look good," he says at last. Then clears his throat. His face feels hot. "Better than good, even. You don't have anything to worry about, I promise."

It placates you, because you finally give your own reflection a rest. You back away from the mirror, humming. "If you say so. Thank you, Wrio," you tell him, flashing him a small, shy smile just before you back up into the changing room once more to take it off.

Once you're out of the vicinity, Wriothesley drops his head into his palms, groaning softly.

if he's this much of a mess around you at a fitting, he wonders how much of a fool he could make himself at the actual event.

[dawnofiight]

Now Presenting: The Talbot Siblings

This is an excuse for me to draw Madelyn.

Her and Amanda are BFFs that's why both of them have dyed pink tips.

Amanda adopted Talbot

Tag list:

@sunsickcrab

@professionallyyappin

@themeridian

@ashertickler

@plaqying

@puffin-smoke

@pandoraroid

@infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt

@starlogician

@zimix-whispers

@aurorialwolf

@porters-fangs

@skunkox

[talaok]

I love your writing bestiee ok so you're dating Pedro, but you're not famous, there's an age gap between you, many people support you and think you're super cute, others make mean and nasty comments, one night you get insomnia (Pedro is sleeping) and decides to look at social media, and some disgusting comments about you and Pedro appear, you start to cry because you don't believe it and don't accept people talking about him in such a nasty way, but while you try to make as little noise as possible while you're crying, it's inevitable, Pedro wakes up and comes to you....

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

a/n: thank you bestie💖

One of the few times he was able to sleep, it was you who couldn't.

The curtains filtred the shallow lights of the streetlamps and cars from outside, but a flash of them still penetrated the room every few moments, each time distancing you from sleep an inch further, until inevitably, you were wide awake at three in the morning.

Pedro's left arm was wrapped around you, holding you close even in his sleep, his breath was fanning over your neck as his face hid in the crook of it. Your bodies had melted into one, holding onto each other even when not conscious, because that's how you liked it, because that's how much you loved each other.

And you did, god if you did, no matter what people said, thought, or wrote all over the internet, that's all that counted, the love 

as Pedro always put it: "As long as I'm with you, nothing else matters"

But today, today as you made the grave mistake of picking up your phone, of unplugging it from the outlet, of opening Instagram... today, in the cold of the night, out of reach from Pedro's sweet words, from his warm embrace... today what people said was hitting harder than usual.

You had slipped out of your boyfriend's grasp to walk to the living room, and god did you regret it as you now sat on the couch, tears streaking down your cheeks, while you tried muffling your own sobs with the palm of your hand.

you tried recalling what Pedro usually said, you tried mustering even a glimpse of the optimism, the tranquility that defined him, that made every negative comment about him, or you, not bother him in the slightest, but all your brain was able to do was re-read all those awful, awful comments out loud without giving you a chance to stop it, making it all worse... so much worse.

Because they weren't only insulting, it wasn't the usual "slut" or "whore" or "gold digger", no, no there were also comments that made fun of him, that called you both "pathetic" or even "disgusting"

What's disgusting about loving someone? In wanting to spend the rest of your life with them?

Why, just because of a few years of difference, did people feel the need to go and make assumptions, why's that?

And as the tears multiplied, as the sobs climbed faster up your throat, you didn't notice the steps coming from the bedroom until-

"Sweetheart?", a voice startled you from behind, freezing you in your spot, as Pedro inevitably rounded the couch to take a better look at you.

The moment your eyes met, the moment he saw the frown on your forehead, the glimmer in your red eyes, your wet cheeks, he was next to you, holding your hand, holding you in any way he could.

"what happened?"

And when you didn't answer, when you could only sniffle as you hid your face in his chest, sobbing and drenching his shirt, only then, did he see your phone, the app it was opened onto... all the dirty words staining your screen.

"baby" he cooed, petting your hair, begging you to look up at him "you can't let them get to you" he murmured "Who cares what they think, we know the truth, that's all that matters"

"I-I know-" your trembling voice made its way to him as you slowly raised your head "I just- it's just-"

that's all you could stutter before you were bawling again, holding onto him for dear life as he stroked your back and gently kissed the crown of your head.

"oh sugar" he cooed, "It's all alright, everything is fine" he whispered "'m here, I'm not going anywhere"

It took a long time for your breathing to even enough for you to find his eyes again.

"sweetheart you're the most amazing woman to ever exist, whatever it is they said, I promise you, they're just jealous"

"n-no it's not what they said about me" you shook your head, wiping away a leftover tear "It's what they said about us"

His eyes closed for a moment as he sighed 

"let them say what they want baby, who cares?" he forced a smile to try and cheer you up "Sweetheart, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my entire life" he promised "I love you more than anything on this earth"

"me too" you were quick to reply

"yeah, see? then let them say whatever they want sweetheart, because what matters is that I have you." he murmured "that I'm lucky enough to be with you. and it doesn't matter what they say, because as long as I have you, nothing else matters, the world could collapse and you, baby, would still be the only thing on my mind"

"Pedro..." your lips trembled as your eyes wet again, for a whole different reason this time

"I'm serious" he promised, taking your hands in his "I love you, sweetheart, and as long as I'm with you, nothing else matters"

And as always, he had made it all better

"you're right"

"I know I am" he smiled, stroking your cheek "Now c'mere, let's get back to bed"

[viminoo]

misc baberoe doodles + renee