#me posting at 3am again

[ameliadoesstuff]

something about s1-3 zane is just. oh this guy is so silly and friend-shaped. look at his friendly boy swag. like????? how could you ever hate him. the ultimate silly

not to hate on his titanium era because frankly it is very cool. but the essence of s1-3 zane is unique and uncapturable. he is just a little guy you can put in your pocket. his default facial expression is so inherently funny. there are no thoughts behind these eyes. i would trust him with my life.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this dang helmet gonna be the death of me

[nevvn]

solomama and lucipapa raising a pack of rowdy kids

[thresholdbb]

I have a gripe about the Star Trek mugs...

Picard's teacup is a delicate, fragile little thing held by a strip of plastic and a dream. That thin glass will break if you look at it sideways. And where do they put that ridiculous tiny cup? On the Enterprise, which is always being dragged into conflict

The DS9 raktajino mugs are hefty, wide-based things that are meant to not tip over. They're called no-spill mugs. They have a foam piece on the bottom so they don't slip. They're incredibly sturdy – meant for ships and traveling! Where do they put them? At the station, which is arguably the most stable place they could be cause DS9 rarely gets knocked about.

Far as I'm concerned, Janeway's the only one doing practical space mugs correctly. Come on, a metal travel mug that's as strong as her coffee is black? Takes a beating through 70,000 light years of bridge shakes fighting off the Borg and the Hirogen and still holds a hot drink? Now that's a space mug

[lazorbeanz]

I love chao races sonamy your honor

[thejanisimiike]

rejanis thru text (pt 2/?)

(more parts - pt 1 / pt 3)

[cicada-candy]

Loose GPT wip I Will Actually Probably Finish at some point

[flowercrowngods]

still on my journey to get better at smut, so uhhhh

chubby!steve fucking eddie at a highschool reunion

(explicit, ca. 1.1k | dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex??)

Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan as Steve lifts him off the ground, crowding him against the wall with all that glorious, glorious strength, manhandling Eddie like it’s nothing. If his dick weren’t already painfully hard and throbbing with need, it would be now, trapped as it is against Steve’s belly. It’s the hottest thing Eddie’s ever experienced.

“That what this is, baby?” Steve taunts, slowly grinding against Eddie, the bulge in those preppy-ass pants hot and hard against him.

Eddie moans again, shaking his head in denial even though they both know it’s useless, pointless. He’s been exposed. Quite literally, too.

“You think I’m sexy like this? I make you hard just from looking at me? Don’t think I didn’t see you there, Munson.”

God, the mouth on this man! Eddie never did stand a chance.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, letting me manhandle you like that. Think I can fuck yon against the wall, Eddie? Hold my dainty little princess up while I fuck all the words right out of your dirty little mouth, hmm?”

Eddie moans again, his hands finding their way into Steve’s hair, tugging and pushing and pulling him closer, closer, closer. He needs more. He needs Steve to do all of that and more. Come inside him, mark him up, let it trail out of him while they return to the gym — or leave him like that for everyone else to see, everyone else who happens to walk by this abandoned classroom in search for some privacy.

It’s been ten years. Ten years since Steve Harrington in all his glory graduated school and left Hawkins behind.

And oh, those years must have been glorious for him if he looks like this now. Bulky. Strong. Magnificent. Like he’s finally grown into that muscle he’s always had and polished it up with some softness.

Eddie was hard the moment he laid eyes on him.

And now here they are — in their old science classroom. If there were any coherent thought left in his mind, he’d make some quip about finally getting some biology lessons.

As it is, though, Steve surges up to claim his lips in a searing, filthy kiss while he divests Eddie of the rest of his clothing.

Eddie is naked now, trapped against the wall by that magnificent bulk of a man who is still fully dressed save for his suit pants being unbuttoned and that white dress shirt open all the way, exposing his hairy chest and tummy. The need to touch him is stronger now than the need to be fucked brainless, and Steve’s groan when Eddie runs his hands up and down those large pecs is absolutely worth the momentary lack of friction.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, unaware of the words leaving his mouth until they find their mark, making Steve falter in his frantic movements.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows. “Always wondered what you’d look like now. Hoped for this.” He trails his hand down the prominent happy trail, all the way to where Steve’s cock is still trapped, leaking against his underwear.

They both moan as Eddie feels him up, gently jerking him as much as the angle allows, and Steve meets his movements with thrusts of his own, which in turn provides friction for Eddie’s throbbing erection.

God, this man is glorious. He wants to shout it from the rooftops.

“That so?” Steve murmurs, hands coming up to Eddie’s hair again, one of them trailing down to his lips. “King Steve was never enough for you, hmm? You wanted more. Always knew you were a greedy little slut, Eddie Munson. Practically begging for it with your little stunts. Wanted my eyes on you, didn’t you? We’re always so stupid for me.”

He moves his hips in a particularly mean thrust that makes Eddie keen, one finger moving past his lips for Eddie to suck while the one in his hair pulls meanly before coming down to his cock, jerking so hard and fast that Eddie’s legs quiver. Not that it matters, with the hold Steve has on him without even using his hands.

Eddie has nowhere to go; one finger in his mouth and a skilled hand on his dick. He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay in this moment forever. Wants to tell Steve as much — stupidly — but all that comes out is a series of “Ah—ah—ah—ffffuck!” as the man renders him useless.

“All you had to do was ask,” Steve taunts, condescending in every possible way, and Eddie almost blows his load just then.

“P—Please,” he manages around Steve’s finger in his mouth, and the asshole speeds up. It’s all Eddie can do to shake his head, to whine between his moans and let him know that, No, not like that! “Want you. Need you.”

“You have me,” Steve whispers, his lips touching Eddie’s in an almost-kiss that is so intoxicating Eddie loses all sense of self for a second there.

“Fuck me,” Eddie whines. “Please. F—Fuck me against the wall, fuck the words right, right outta my mouth, fuck— like you said. Like that. Please.”

And oh, Steve does. Prepares him on four fingers until there are no words in Eddie’s brain anymore, clamps his hand over his mouth because “I don’t want anyone to find you just yet, baby. Want you all to myself. Want your cum on my belly and have you clean it up, eat it all like the filthy slut you are.”

He fucks him deeper than anyone’s ever fucked him, leaves him trembling with need even after he’s come twice, splattered Steve’s soft belly with it and almost came a third time just from that vision alone.

“One more, baby,” Steve tells him. “One more for me, then I’m gonna fill you up just like you want it, yeah? Fill you so good, mark you up so everyone knows you spread your legs for the King like my pretty little concubine. My pretty little princess, hmm? You gonna come again for me? Can you be a good boy for me?”

Eddie can. He comes with a muffled shout, adding a third load to Steve’s skin, framed by his otherwise pristine suit in what must be the most obscene vision Eddie’s ever seen.

Steve strokes him through it, gentler now, telling him how proud he is, how good Eddie was for him as he thrusts his hips one, two, three more times before he, too, finds his release in Eddie’s body. Well, in the condom; they’re not stupid. But a man can dream.

And, oh, does he dream. With Steve still inside him, his hips bucking with aftershocks as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, licking and sucking and biting.

Eddie will always dream of Steve Harrington. Especially after tonight.

was gonna put this in @hotluncheddie’s ask box but then it hit 1k so here we go instead i guess

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Saint Joan of Arc – Paul de La Boulaye // Would've, Could've, Should've – Taylor Swift

[lil-lemon-snails]

This post from @dca-prompts had me thinking about moon recolours!!! And I was entranced by the idea of pastel moon, specifically when the moon rises before the sun sets and you get a faint blue moon in the sky o.o

Anyways i think this moon would be really friendly,,, fluffy even,,,,,, don't mind the heart eyes i'm normal.

[general-cyno]

I watched film gold the other day and it's been making me think about luffy's relationship with food wrt zoro and how it's been presented in different OP media.

Aside from the importance the riceball incident holds for the animanga and OPLA, luffy's specific reaction to zoro's injuries after the mihawk duel in the latter is so good. although the LA won't touch luffy's full backstory for a while, it's obvious he loves food in both the usual goofy manner and as something he associates with kindness or a lack thereof. it's why zoro eating the riceballs and sanji feeding gin is important in both iterations of the story. and not only that, OPLA also directly links luffy's appetite to his mood/feelings - when kid!luffy gets sad about shanks's upcoming no-return departure, makino goes out of her way to point out something's really wrong after luffy says he's not hungry. as it is, OPLA used this character trait of luffy's again to highlight how affected he is by seeing zoro (who, at that point, luffy hadn't considered could lose) truly hurt for the first time.

From I'm not really hungry right now, Nami amidst his rising panic, refusing sanji's food, admitting he'd eat his arms and legs to save zoro's life (in the context of what happened to zeff and sanji) and my gut hasn't been so great lately, the message is clear: luffy is not only worried about zoro's wellbeing, he's also very, very upset and willing to go crazy lengths if it means saving zoro. plus, if you watch the LA knowing about sabo and ace, imo it emphasizes further why seeing zoro in such a state makes luffy feel/act the way he does and how much he cares for zoro to react like that to begin with. I love it. I also love that though he rejects the food for himself, luffy admits while rambling that he wants zoro to eat and asks sanji to prepare food he believes zoro would like, even if he quickly concludes letting him rest is probably the best option instead.

That last part brings me to thriller bark, in the manga. It's not food per se and it's portrayed less seriously, but he still tries to have zoro - unconscious and wounded after You Know What - drink an entire barrel of booze because luffy knows how much he loves it (as much as luffy loves meat) and believes it will make zoro wake up/feel better. comedic as it may be intended to be, it's also kinda sweet. luffy's shown more than a few times to recuperate ridiculously fast and in an equally ridiculous manner from injuries by eating meat, so this is luffy's own way to show how much he cares and that he wants zoro to be well again imo.

This also brings me to the start of thriller bark itself! luffy's offered to share his food before (with nami, for example), yet ig what stood out to me during this part is how he just... offers to share his lunch with zoro simply because luffy wants him to come along. luffy rarely makes that sort of offer for specifically mundane reasons, so. squints.

(the fact that zoro fell right for it is so. lmao.)

And as for film gold - albeit not canon as most of the OP movies are, it's still interesting. for once, it's zoro who ends up in need of rescue. after the whole ordeal with tesoro capturing zoro and pushing the straw hats to try and buy his freedom before the public execution, luffy seeks out food.

And when usopp remarks zoro is more important than that? luffy immediately agrees, but insists that's precisely why he needs to eat.

This is a fun contrast to OPLA luffy though I'd say not necessarily a contradicting one. whereas there's little OPLA luffy can do wrt zoro's injuries, film gold luffy can't afford not to eat because here he needs to be at peak strength to rescue him. I like that the movie showed luffy's frustration too,

and how far he'd go to save him: jumping into a duct that's filled with "vicious golden bats" no one's survived from and launching himself straight against a moving, giant sea prism stone ventilation fan (all related to rescue plan) that franky has to bodily drag him away from before he gets more seriously wounded.

(Quite a reminder luffy's pretty crazy about zoro too!)

All in all, food is a very important aspect of luffy's character whether it's for a comedic or serious effect. though it's made more relevant in the WCI arc, I still love how it's something you can see portrayed in his relationship with zoro throughout OP too, be it in the animanga, the LA or in movies as well.

[letsventstuff]

You'd never be able to make me feel an ounce of pity for a manipulative piece of shit and a victim card player. Not. Ever. Again.

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[mementoasts]

been thinkin about neck kisses,,,,

[galedekkarios]

"how could anyone ship bloodweave they make no sense at all" did you think about their stories, their motives, their ailments, their shared hobbies, the subtle progression of their relationship throughout the acts, and how very similar they can be despite being different. i know that you didn't but if you had then perhaps you would understand why some people might ship them, especially since a) you can successfully romance them in an origin run thus making it possible, b) astarion already tries flirting with gale unprompted in act 1, and c) you can romance astarion with a good-aligned pc and romance gale with an evil-aligned pc. so, like. what's not clicking

[nabhx]

......Are NONE of them blond anymore?? That's not a casting complaint or anything as much as it is a costuming thing- But just something about going from four out of the six being blond to ZERO is so funny to me help 💀💀 y'all were too blond so now NOBODY gets a turn, you can have your blond back when you've learned your lesson ☝🗣

((Post with the images I'm talking about right here, I didn't want to bother the op with this gchjjbh))