#just like she was for all those years

[turkeyinnovember]

thinking abt how he spent his birthday in the inbetween

[inkskinned]

probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.

we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."

at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.

the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.

the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.

what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.

here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.

[hinamie]

u should think of tiny megu. To keep the stress at bay. You should draw him actually. Ooooo you wanna draw tiny megu getting the love he deserves so bad /j

he's with his 2 best friends

[twinstxrs]

so much happened in this whole episode but i’m still on fig infiltrating ruben’s dream, making it look like the place where his friend was murdered, and then disguising herself as kipperlilly & repeatedly saying different variants of “somebody needs to take the fall for this, and it’s not going to be me. it’s going to be you.” while adaine as the elven oracle shows up next to her. can you imagine waking up from that, the idea of a horrible truth being pinned on you by your friend to save her own skin while the personification of fate and destiny stands there, almost as a promise that this is GOING to happen to you. we don’t even know if this kid is guilty. my god.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[paperglader]

they really put alicent in bridgerton blue on the reunion and genuinely expected me to think that she didn’t in fact march all the way to dragonstone to get wifed up? bfr

[navree]

Incorrect, the fact that Biden has dropped out and a candidate with history of supporting medicare for all and being more receptive to a ceasefire in the I/P conflict has made me go from "I cannot morally support the Democratic nominee" to "I am voting for the Democratic nominee despite the fact she isn't perfect in every respect." I'm really happy this played out. The Dems for the most part abandoned the old Obama platform and it feels like its possible an actual progressive agenda could come to pass in my lifetime.

Kamala 2024!

If you weren't going to vote Democratic in this election before Biden dropped out you're a dorkass loser who does not care about any of the issues you're yammering about here and also a fundamentally bad person, and I hope you get run over by a bus.

But you got one thing right in all of this gibberish, Kamala 2024.

[airoarts]

Leader and deputy

[Image description: a digital painting of Squirrelstar and Ivypool from Warriors. Squirrelstar is a small dark red cat with green eyes, standing in front of the much taller Ivypool, a gray tabby-and-white cat with blue eyes and many battle scars. The background is dark blue. end ID]

[ruporas]

studies from the finale

[raionmimi]

Blizzard can't just say Lifeweaver used to watch Symmetra practice dancing for hours on end without giving them matching skins and synced emotes

Do you think she's taught him the steps to several duets that he'd do on his own anytime he missed her more than anything over the years because it felt like she was still with him

[nyxronomicon]

But Endeavor, whose only been a perfunctory fucker now eating pussy, your pussy, for the first time and he just does the messiest job of it. Just down there exploring every fold with his fat fingers- hearts in his eyes and juice in his chin

ANON... 🥴🥴🥴 please you are so right all he knows is breeding... (RIP don't look at me) he's gotta learn how to eat someone out sometime...

Endeavor x gn!reader (w vagina) cw: messy messy oral, fingering (thick fingers...), rough, overstim, reader squirts pet names: baby

.

"Higher- ah!" Your sharp moan told him that he found the right spot, his tongue flicking your clit. He was clumsy and awkward, like he didn't quite know how to move his mouth now that he'd found your sweet spot. Your fingers slid into his hair as his lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves.

You briefly looked at him, seeing his piercing blue eyes gazing back at you. There was a dusting of pink on his cheeks, uncertainty seeping onto his features. You wanted to tell him how adorable it was, how much you were in love with this version of Enji Todoroki. But you knew better, he wouldn't take that compliment well. He'd get hyper masculine, pin you down before getting rough and pounding his heavy cock into you.

He tried to pull away out of insecurity, but you tugged his hair with just enough force to keep him between your thighs. "Want you right here." You held him in place, seeing his eyes widen slightly and the flush of his cheeks become a deeper red.

The bashful expression lasted less than a moment, his eyes flickering closed as he sucked your clit. When he opened them again, they were full of determination. Enji suddenly pulled your hips closer to the edge of the bed to get a better angle. You felt his thick fingers dance between your folds, throwing your head back as he teased you.

"Enji," you moaned his name, arching your back as a finger pushed into you. Your cunt practically sucked him in, and he groaned as he imagined his throbbing cock getting the same treatment.

There was a glisten of sweat clinging to your skin. Your fingernails dug into his scalp as he sucked your clit hard, flicking at the bud with his tongue as his finger searched your pussy for your g-spot. A second finger pushed into you, your core throbbing for more. You threw your head back, losing control of your body as you could feel pleasure creeping up your spine.

You were so fucking sexy. He needed to taste your cum on his lips. It was all he could think as his fingers pressed your g-spot, instantly pulling lewd sounds from your lips. He smirked, his tongue now only lightly swirling around your clit as he focused on finger-fucking you. You were close, he could tell from the way you tightened around him.

"That's it, baby." He growled into your pussy, "cum for me." With another rough suck on your bundle of nerves, he prodded your g-spot relentlessly. His blue eyes were trained on you, watching every minute change as your breath hitched.

Your cunt tipped over the edge with ecstasy, Enji holding you in place as he continued his ministrations. It quickly spread through your whole body, thighs twitching as you felt yourself getting oversensitive. You mumbled his name, writhing in his grip as you rode out the orgasm.

"Just a lil' more..." He continued, "c'mon baby," his motions intensified, sensitivity instantly sending a more intense wave of pleasure through you. You could feel yourself squirt into his mouth, almost embarrassing had he not immediately started licking the essence from your folds.

He cleaned you out like a starved man, slowly and gently letting you come down from your high. He continued to watch you with adoration in his gaze, his cock throbbing with desire. When he finally pulled away from your cunt, you saw his smirk drenched in your juices.

"How was that?" He spoke quietly, but with confidence. Your expression and the fact that you were still catching your breath told him the answer.

"Not bad for a first timer." You chuckled through heavy breaths.

"Oh?" He climbed on top of you with a grin, pinning your arms above your head. "How 'bout I show you my expertise?"

.

@rottiens if I have to brainrot about this man you do too

[llamahearted]

like it's no big deal at all

songs on repeat

[echo-nt]

I know this has already been said and I’m super late, but Mia as the protag of RE8 would have been so good. The contrast between Mia, the Lords, and Mother Miranda would have been absolutely interesting. I'm shoving everything under a read more because damn I have so many thoughts about Mia.

Lady Dimitrescu is a woman that cannibalizes and drinks the blood of her servants and intruders. On top of that, she tortures before preying on them. She does this willingly and very much derives pleasure from doing so. Lady D’s gothic triplets hunt any poor fool that wanders in. It’s a fun family activity for them just as much as it’s for sustenance. 

Do you know what this parallels? The Baker family under Eveline’s control. They patrol the estate and anyone who rejects the “gift” either ends up molded or on the dinner table. This family also partakes in a fucked up version of a family dinner, eating the victims that refused their little girl’s “gift.” 

However, a major difference between the Baker and Dimitrescu family is their willingness to participate in these activities. A family of cannibals; one forced while the other relishes in it. 

Mia is still very traumatized by her three years in the Baker’s estate. Breaking into the castle to find her daughter would force her back. Hello to all the emotions that come with those memories, the ones Mia has been trying to forget. The harder you try to forget something, the more you think about it. What better way to make Mia acknowledge Dulvey, Louisiana than by forcing her into something so similar? 

And while she’s still reeling from remembering her time in captivity, why not push her a bit further down memory lane with House Beneviento? Mia has demonstrated at multiple points in RE7 that she does care about other lives. She lies to Ethan to keep him from getting caught up in her work. She tries to save Alan and crew members of "The Annabelle" (the crew members are a bit more indirect, she mainly focused on Alan) by containing Eveline. After Jack finds her, Mia keeps her distance to keep from infecting them while trying to write a warning. She tries her hardest during RE7 to save Ethan. 

Mia’s hallucinations could center on her guilt. The failure to stop Eveline and the lives ruined as a result. How she was always too late to help anyone. Ethan curing her, a criminal, over Zoe, the person helping him. Leaving Zoe behind in the shattered remains of her home and family. Surviving. Visions of Ethan hinting at his “condition” could lure her to the manor. A little nudge to the whole “he was mold the entire time” plot twist without fully giving it away. 

Moreau, lacking in self worth and very attached to a woman who doesn’t give him the time a day, yet still he considers her as his mother. Most of his actions are for the attention and validation from his “mother.” No matter what Moreau does, he’ll never have her affection or time. It’s sad, isn’t it? To witness a man try so hard only to be rejected. And isn’t that familiar? Mia once felt compassion for someone with similar traits. 

Remember the little girl who considered you her mother? The one that spent three years waiting for you to love her after you promised? The one you had a hand in killing? What makes you think you could ever be a good mother after what you did? Why are you trying so hard to save Rose when you didn’t even extend the same courtesy to Eveline?

Y’all know how Mia’s past is a mystery? Like why she was working for the Connections and how she was even recruited and all that. Heisenberg would be a great way to explore it. A man taken, forced into becoming something else, and stuck in a family he doesn’t want. Mia can relate. He wants to use her daughter as a weapon. She was willing to let another child be used as a weapon. They’re alike, so surely Mia would be willing to side with him.

But Heisenberg is cocky and Mia isn’t the person she was prior/during 7. Even if she was on board with using Eveline as a weapon to end all wars or whatever bullshit the Connections told her, she’s not willing now. Not after what she’s seen and been through. This section could be Heisenberg goading her through the tvs/intercoms about her past to change her mind with Mia remaining steadfast in her refusal.

And then there’s Mother Miranda. Two mothers trying to get their daughters back through vastly different means. Because of the group photo showing Mia and Miranda with Eveline this encounter can go one of two ways. 

Miranda and Mia know each other and have worked together before. Whether it be on the E-Series Project (with Mia becoming the caretaker and spending copious amounts of time at the lab) or though some other means at work. 

They’ve only briefly met when the Connections were in a hurry to transport Eveline.

Either way, Miranda would compare them. As a mother, Mia must understand what she’s trying to accomplish. Would Mia not do the same as she? Maybe at this point Miranda shows she killed Ethan to demoralize to prevent her from interfering with the ceremony. Tells her she’s too late once again and to give Rose to her because she’ll be the superior mother.

Idk, I guess you could switch to Ethan instead of Chris so he can still have Eveline tell him he’s moldy. But he’s a stubborn man and he forces himself back to weaken Miranda so Mia can kill her. Chris shows up and Ethan does the same thing he did at the end by blowing himself up with Chris forcing Mia (with Rose) on the helicopter. That way the Shadow of Rose DLC can still be about Rose and Ethan. 

TLDR; Mia should have been the protagonist because it would have allowed us to explore her character and background more. It was a missed opportunity especially since so much of RE8 centers around mothers. It would have played out better as closing off the Winters Family saga as well since we could have tied the loose ends that came with Mia’s mysterious past.

[telanadasvhenan]

you see wolf & Deer symbolism and go predator & prey, I see pride & wisdom parallels, we are not the same

[dionysism]

ohhh i am really thinking about penelope and grief. 20 years of it.

10 spent knowing your love is fighting at war and may die at any moment, every sunrise and sunset spent wondering if you're staring at the same sun right now or if he's already gone. and then the war ends, but not for you. it might as well have never ended, because now new grief sets in.

now you wait for him to come home, but he doesn't. and you slowly but surely hear about other great men making it home, and their tales of victory, and maybe you even hear about your husbands great trojan horse, how it won it for them, but you do not hear anything else about him. you listen very closely to the names of fallen greeks at troy, still, you do not hear about him. you wait another year, two turns to three, to four. nothing. no news, no closure at all.

you can't help but spin the worst possible tales in your mind, night after night. is he dead? ship shattered against the rocks in some storm? has he drowned? did he stop somewhere for supplies and get ambushed? cut down? could his men have betrayed him? did he anger some god and bring about his own doom? is there a chance, at all, that he's still out there? will you ever see him again?

and your son. your beautiful son who you love, who gets older every year, who can only know his father through the fragments of memory you can pass down to him, but it's not the same, not enough. and hero as he may be, what you would prefer is a husband. a father to your son. and his great deeds are somewhat lost now anyway, as he is. you cannot put a man to rest when his fate remains unknown— if he had fallen at troy, or made it home only to succumb to some wound or illness, at least you would know. at least then you could find some small amount of solace in him leaving a name and legacy for your son to inherit, some closure for you, but all you have is wind and words. and telemachus is starting to look like him, and you begin to dread him getting any older, as you remember you promised your husband you would remarry when he comes of age. another joy soured by grief, most women delight in seeing the men their sons grow up to be, but it only marks doom for you. sometimes you tell him to shave. just a little longer. he may still come back. you have to believe he will come back.

then the suitors decend like vultures, eating you out of house and home and every one of their faces is a reminder that he is not here, that he has not been here for a long time now. that you might never see his face again. you remember him perfectly, still, after all these years. can still see clear as day the image of him in your mind the day he set off in his ship, remember to the last detail the clothes you sent him off with. you can't imagine a life with any of these men, nor any other man on earth, but it becomes more clear to you everyday the gods must not care what you want. oh, how you both must be cursed by them, to be served such a fate! but you are not completely without hope, not yet. and so you stall, for as long as you possibly can, with your clever weaving scheme. and for awhile, this is something. you almost allow yourself to smile at the thought of how he would love a scheme like this, thinking about all the tricks and strategies he must have employed at troy, how you would have liked to have heard about them. ("well, here's what i would have done," you would sometimes tell him when he would recount old stories from his past to you. "penelope, you're brilliant! i should take you everywhere i go" he would usually say, and, you really wish he would have.) but he has gone somewhere far away now, somewhere you cannot follow, or even know about, and you are left with more grief than you know how to carry.

at some point, he's gone longer than you were married to him. eventually, he's gone longer than you knew him at all. it may seem silly then, to be so grief-stricken still, to love him so hopelessly, still. but you are only human, so you are, and you do. you've been betrayed and your scheme exposed, there's no denying your son has become a man, and the inevitable can be put off no longer. you falter constantly between a relentless despair that he will never come home, and fickle hope you are just a few more days from seeing his ship on the horizon. still, your nights are spent mostly weeping.

then this strange beggar comes to your house. he tells you he's heard about your husband, tells you he's coming home! and you want to believe it, desperately, more than anything, you want to believe it. but it sounds too good to be true. and yet, faintly, this strange man kind of reminds you of your husband. something about him you can't quite place. maybe you're just going mad, looking for him in everything, finding him where he's not there. but maybe...

and so here is your last stand, your last shred of hope, one final scheme. you'll marry, but first, a contest. a bow, that only your husband can string, an arrow shot through 12 axeheads. a contest conveniently leaving the winner the only armed man in the room. and if not what you ultimately hope, maybe, at least, you can watch these idiots sputter and fail.

[dirtytransmasc]

Alicent being ignored as a parent during those first few years. Alicent being expected to take care of aegon, while also allowing Viserys to take him whenever he so pleased, to show off and pass around like a model toy. Alicent being denied her child whenever lords and ladies were around. Alicent only getting him back when she was at her wits end, stressed after being separated from him for so long, watching people hold him wrong, play with him wrong, touch him wrong. Alicent only getting him back when he is fussy and no longer a source of entertainment for Viserys and his guests. Alicent holding her baby close to her chest during outings or events, stiffening when people ask to see him, hesitant to release her grip on him. Alicent biting her tongue when people ask to "give her a break" when she really wants to tell them that it's her baby and she's perfectly capable. Alicent being so exhausted from guests and Aegon being so little and full of energy, and her second pregnancy, causing her to doze with Aegon in her arms, only to nearly lash out when someone tries to slip him from her arms, engulfing him in her arms as if to fend him from hungry wolves. Alicent carrying him around, even as she grows tired, her arms burning and back aching, so she knows he is safe, away from prying hands and acrid whispers, away from his father's attempts to use him for amusement purposes. Alicent feigning a smile, feigning composure and enjoyment, when really, she just wants to be home, in her chambers with her son, where no one can bother them, where they aren't props meant to smile and wave for a man who does not love them.

(inspired by this reblog of my post from earlier. cause yes, @squgs [hope you don't mind me tagging] is right, she would very much go to war for her baby)