#no cliché

[merrilark]

This legitimately gave me the most undignified laugh.

[fashionfotorecccluse]

Climate = NOT CLICHÉ!

STILL, too many people are not taking this seriously: In the most dire scenario, newborns today, almost turning 80 by the end of this century, will be virtually completely dried out even inside their homes, while practically INCINERATED outside!

[munchymunchkin]

[klancer-warrior]

i do love me some college au cheerleader lance and football player keith

[i-ate-the-rats]

just think about it.

[just-french-me-up]

psssst... add that Florence + The Machine song to that playlist. Add that Hozier song. Add that Mitski song. Add that popular bop. Someone's art touched you to your core and relates to you, as it did with millions of other people

that's not cliché

that's the fucking human experience, gorgeous

[cassianandfenrysaremyboyos]

Book phrases that make me go feral

"my wife"

"you came for me"

"who did this to you"

"if you touch her you die"

"I'll always find you"

[erabu-san]

Some fremillei doodles !

[numberonedukethomasapologist]

Bruce: Hey kids?

Fam: yeah?!

Bruce: Whats superbat?

*babs and dick immediately hoping in the elevator*

*Jason jumps out the window*

*Cass crawls under the couch*

*steph climbs on tims shoulders and pretends to be a coat hanging on the rack*

*Duke went invisible so quickly nobody is sure if he was there or not*

*Damian walked out the front door and is now rethinking life inside of a tree hole*

Bruce: wha-

Clark: IS IT TIME?!?

Bruce: what??

Clark: oh.. *slowly flies backwards out the window he crashed through*

[moodyseal]

Meg and Apollo tarot card designs for @ferodactyl <3 I'm not an expert when it comes to tarot cards (this was actually the first time I looked into the full deck) but hopefully I got it right!

The explanation of the cards' symbolism is under the cut because it's a bit lengthy oof

Meg's card is the Knight of Swords, one of the minor Arcana, I think? Upright, the Knight of Swords refers to a person who is action-oriented, determined and unstoppable in what they set their mind to; however, when it's reversed the card also indicates a person who might be blind to the consequences of their actions and charges into things without having fully considered their options. Meg's choices throughout TOA point to her being exactly this sort of person: while her determination and lack of hesitation were exactly what was needed to balance out Apollo's occasional self-doubt, her impulsiveness was also what got them both into trouble multiple times. The fact that, eventually, she learned how to rely on others and slow down when needed goes hand in hand with the warning this card poses.

Apollo's card is instead one of the Major Arcana, and it's Death. The Death card is a symbol of change: it indicates a time of transition and new beginnings that are sometimes unexpected and difficult, but still necessary. Reversed, the card indicates that the person is resisting that change, and unwilling to let go of the past, which makes the journey all the more painful as the transformation that they're going through is inevitable and cannot be reversed. One of the major points in Apollo's character arc, and the biggest change he goes through, is the transition from the god he used to be to the one he would be in the future. It's a slow change, and one he didn't fully lean into at first—after all, if he chose to give up all that he had been up until then, what would he have left? However, ironically enough, death is exactly what set things in motion, and let him finally shed away his past beliefs to embrace his new sense of self.

[luminouslotuses]

this was a fever dream. i enjoyed every second of it btw

[parasiticstars]

hey friendly reminder that “the loss of any human life is an inherent tragedy” and “the ≤1% paying a quarter of a mil. a head and signing a contract that explicitly mentions ‘death’ to disturb a mass grave while shoved in a literal bluetooth cheap-ass metal cylinder made by a company that eschews safety got exactly what they signed up for” AND “we shouldn’t have wasted taxpayer money to find a crumpled up Pringle’s can during several refugee crises” are all opinions that can and should co-exist.

Of course, we shouldn’t be so gleeful in their horrific deaths, especially there was a literal teenager that didn’t even want to go in there. Internet anonymity be damned, it’s the death of basic decency. And of course, we should rightfully be outraged that watching a bunch of ultra-rich blow their money to do something objectively incredibly stupid (to a MASS GRAVE with human fucking bone dust and preserved shoes, I cannot stress enough) is what’s hitting headlines and what people care about.

However, if you have any sort of basic human decency and a morality view more complex than that of a six year old, I’m sure you can easily reconcile all three valid opinions.

[1071png]

Axel for the drawing requests!

he's very hard to draw

[criminalyun]

cool for the summer (part two) | sim jaeyun

pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!oc

summery: summers over and if you thought hiding your relationship from your brother with jake when you were all together was hard, then you were in for a surprise when you’re forced to do long distance and not only have to stay up late hours in the night to talk, so that jay wouldn't suspect anything, but also have to question if your boyfriend even loves you.

genre: brothers best friend au, forbidden love, long distance, fluff, angst, smut.

warnings: minors dni!! virgin reader who overthinks a lot!

cw: violence, alcohol use, softdom!jake, sub!reader, piv, fingering, oral (f. rec), making out, pet names (pretty, pretty girl), foreplay, more to be added

word count: estimated 10-15k

release date: june 23rd, 2024

taglist: open !

read part one here

PREVIEW!

There he stood, Jake Sim, your boyfriend, looking as attractive as ever with his dark, messy locks of hair sitting effortlessly on his head, and his skin looking tanned and sun-kissed, and his usual brown eyes that now looked black with lust staring down at you with his plump, red lip tucked between his teeth.

He was clad in a pair of grey joggers and a black zip up jacket which had white writing written across the chest in cursive; the jacket loosely hanging off of him with his prominent collarbone peeking through the neckline.

You couldn't help but gulp at the sight of him, and it was like you were stuck in a trance as you subconsciously took a few steps backwards, allowing your brothers best friend into your room...

Quicker than ever, once your door had been shut tight — Jake pulling the lock across as he shut it with his hand, his eyes not leaving you once - you two dove into one another, your lips hungrily interlocking as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down closer to you whilst his arms snaked around your waist, colliding your bodies as he walked you into the wall; your back pressing against the white painted brick.

"I missed you.." Jake managed to get out, parting your lips for a moment so that you could catch your breaths. "So much, y/n, you don't even understand." He shook his head, desperation seeping through his eyes as they eyed your lips.

“I missed you so much more." You spoke back to him, only earning a shake of Jake's head before he hurriedly attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at places that had never been touched before.

The sensation of his lips against your neck made a weird — pleasurable — feeling appear in your stomach and you slowly fluttered your eyes closed, biting down on your lip to prevent the sounds that were threading to escape from spilling.

"Not possible..." He whispered, grazing his mouth across your earlobe, goosebumps immediately forming on your skin as you accidentally let the sound — the moan — escape from your swollen lips.

Your sounds only caused the smirk on Jake's face to widen even more and he pulled back to look down at you, licking his lips as he brought his thumb up to caress your bottom lip.

"Be quiet, pretty, you don't wanna wake Jay up, huh?" He mischievously spoke, his voice just above a whisper as he teasingly played with your bottom lip, the certain area in his pants hardening as he watched as your eyes glossed over with submission.

Without another thought, the Sim boy quickly released your lip from his touch and hooked his arms beneath your legs, lifting you from the floor and heading over to your bed as he attached his lips to your exposed collarbone.

Once Jake was sat on the edge of your bed, you still being on his lap, he looked up at you in awe, reaching up to move a few strands of your hair away from your beautiful face and tucking them behind your ear as you unthinkingly ground your crotch into his; the weird, euphoric feeling making your stomach churn.

"Y/n.." Jake grunted out, a small whine lacing his voice as he squinted his eyes shut in pleasure. He quickly raised his hands, gently gripping onto your hips (afraid he'd break you if he held too hard) to halt your actions. "We don't have to go all the way, if you don't want to... I don't want to force you...

Immediately, you shook your head, denying the boy as your breathing became heavier and your body became needier.

You wanted him like there was no tomorrow...

COMING SUNDAY JUNE 23, 2024 !!

 criminalyun 2024

[childrenofcain-if]

Alternate universe where D is a football player because I can honestly see it 😂

They'd still be FwB with MC, who's a cheerleader (I love cliches heh). But at one of their final matches, they immediately run to MC after winning and kisses them in front of everyone. I've been thinking about this a lot

the locker room smelled like a nauseating mixture of sweat and antiseptic. there was an overall nervous energy in the whole area because of the upcoming game: the biggest of the season.

yale (bulldogs) vs princeton (tigers). the oldest college football rivalry in america since 1873. truthfully though? you really did not have that as your priority at the moment.

D’s shoulders were tense as they leaned against the row of lockers, their football gear half on, half off, like they couldn’t decide if they were gearing up for the game or gearing up for this conversation with you. you stood in front of them, your arms crossed, trying to hide the way your voice wavered as you spoke.

“why are we even doing this if it doesn’t mean anything to you?” you asked, your words sharper than you’d intended. you didn’t want to sound hurt, but the cracks were already showing and you hated yourself even more for it. “you said you loved me, D. was that a joke?”

D flinched, their jaw tightening.

“it wasn’t a joke,” they muttered, not meeting your eyes. “you know it wasn’t.“

“then what the hell is this?” you gestured between the two of you, the space that felt both too close and too far apart. “why can’t you just—” you stopped, biting back the lump rising in your throat. “why can’t you just be fair to us for once?”

D ran a hand through their damp brown hair, their helmet still sitting on the bench behind them. “because it’s complicated, alright? i’m really not good at this. i don’t know how to—”

“how to what?” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “how to be with someone who actually loves you? how to let yourself care about someone? how to not be a complete asshole?”

their silence was worse than any answer they could have given. you felt the sting of it like a slap.

“forget it,” you said, your voice quieter now, resigned. “this isn’t worth it. i’m not worth it, apparently. not to you.”

“don’t say that,” D said quickly, their voice low and rough, but before they could step toward you, the door opened, and your cheer teammates poked their heads in.

“hey, come on!” one of them called, her tone light but urgent. “we’ve gotta go!”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between D and the exit. you wanted them to say something—anything—that would make you stay, that would make you believe this wasn’t just another dead end. but they didn’t.

so you left, letting the door swing shut behind you, leaving D standing there with their heart in their throat and everything unsaid on their tongue.

***

the stadium was alive in a way that almost felt sentient, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the air, through the ground, through your chest.

the cheer routine was designed to dazzle; full of sharp, explosive movements, tight formations, and splits that skimmed the edge of possibility. every count of the eight-beat rhythm had its place: a high V at one, a perfectly synchronized clap at three, a ripple of tumbling that broke apart and came back together like a flock of birds midflight.

there wasn’t room for hesitation. you had drilled it for weeks, the choreographer shouting corrections until the moves were muscle memory. your body knew what to do, even if your mind was stuck somewhere else.

somewhere else was D.

you couldn’t see them from the sidelines, not at first. the field was a mass of bodies, yale’s blue and white clashing violently with princeton’s orange and black, and it all blurred together under the floodlights.

the roar of the crowd pressed against you, a wall of sound that rattled your ribs, the kind of noise that demanded participation. you gripped your pom-poms tightly, smiling like your heart wasn’t threatening to give out, and launched into the first set of motions.

high kick. clap. shimmy. back handspring.

on the outside, you looked flawless, exactly like what the crowd wanted: all energy and excitement, no cracks in the façade. on the inside, your chest was a knot, the fight with D replaying on an endless loop in your head like a broken VHS tape.

the pyramid was next, the most complicated part of the routine. the bases braced themselves, strong and steady, while the flyers climbed onto their hands. you were in the middle, the top of the pyramid, the highest point for the crowd to see. it was a position of trust. you had to believe your teammates wouldn’t let you fall. it wasn’t something you usually thought about, but tonight, the irony cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

when you extended into the final pose, one leg straight, one bent, arms raised, your eyes landed on D for the first time.

they were in the huddle, standing tall as the team circled around them and the coach, their helmet tucked under one arm. the older man was shouting something you couldn’t hear, D’s face fierce with focus. you wanted to stay angry, but instead, you felt your chest tighten.

D was magnetic in the way they moved, their command of the team absolute. you hated how much you still wanted to be near them, how much your body betrayed you even when your heart was screaming.

the pyramid dismounted, your teammates catching you as you came down. you barely noticed the applause; you were too busy watching D jog onto the field for the first play.

***

D’S POV

D glanced toward the sideline. toward you. again.

it was ridiculous, the way you could disarm them from thirty yards away. you weren’t even looking at them. your head was bent close to one of your friend’s, your pom-poms hanging loosely in your hands. you were supposed to be listening to your captain, but D could see the faint smile on your lips, the way you kept sneaking glances toward the field like you weren’t paying attention at all.

like your eyes were searching for D.

D tore their eyes away before anyone could notice. they didn’t need their teammates teasing them about this—not right now. it was bad enough that their chest felt like it was caving in every time they saw you, bad enough that your fight before the game was still fresh in their head, your voice sharp and shaking, your words a blade sliding between their ribs.

why can’t you just be fair to us?

the truth was, they didn’t know how to. not the right way. not in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were standing naked in a room full of strangers, every scar and bruise and ugly thing about them laid bare.

you deserved better than the mess that they were. you deserved someone who didn’t flinch at the idea of love. someone who could give you everything without being afraid they’d ruin it before it began.

but even as they told themselves that, D knew they couldn’t let you go. not really. not ever.

“alright, team,” coach barked, snapping D back to the present. “this is it. princeton’s undefeated this season, but so are we. you want to be champions? prove it. show everyone you’ve got what it takes.”

the team roared their agreement, slapping helmets and clapping shoulders, the kind of camaraderie that made D feel grounded and restless all at once. they shoved their helmet on and jogged out to the field, their cleats digging into the turf, their breath coming steady and sharp.

they could do this. for the team, for the win, for yale.

no.

for you.

***

the first quarter passed in a blur of plays and hits, the kind of bone-rattling intensity that left D’s hands shaking with adrenaline. they took the snap, rolled back, dodged a tackle by inches, and launched the ball downfield.

the crowd erupted as yale’s receiver caught it just shy of the endzone, but D didn’t stop to celebrate. their eyes found you again, like a compass always pointing to their north star.

you were clapping, your pom-poms bouncing, but there was something off about your gorgeous smile. it didn’t reach your eyes, and D knew it was their fault. they’d put that ache there, and it killed them to see it.

focus. they had to focus.

***

the second quarter was worse. princeton’s defense was relentless, their linemen big enough to make D feel small—a very uncomfortable thing. every play felt like a war, every hit a reminder of how close they were to losing. the score was tied at halftime, and the locker room was a mess of noise and sweat and tension.

“get your head in the game, diaconu,” their coach snapped, pulling D aside as the team filed out. “you’re playing like you’ve got something else on your mind. whatever it is, leave it in here. got it?”

“got it,” D said, even though they didn’t.

they didn’t leave it in the locker room. they carried it back onto the field, where it sat heavy in their chest, driving them forward and holding them back all at once.

you were watching. D could feel your eyes on them every time they stepped up to the line, every time they called a play. it made them want to be better, to play harder, to show you that they weren’t just a coward who couldn’t say the words you needed to hear.

it wasn’t enough to just win. they had to earn you back.

***

YOUR POV

you watched in horror as princeton’s linebacker, a hulking person who looked more suited for professional wrestling than college football, blindsided D after a throw.

it was a dirty hit, helmet to helmet, and D went down hard. you froze, pom-poms slack in your hands, as the crowd erupted in boos. for a second, D didn’t move, and your chest seized with panic. but then they rolled onto their side, their hand going to their helmet, and relief flooded through you so fast it made you dizzy.

they got up, wobbling slightly, and waved off the trainers who tried to check on them.

your fingers dug into the plastic of your pom-poms, the edges biting into your skin. you wanted to scream at them to stop being so stubborn, to let someone take care of them for once. but you were stuck on the sidelines, powerless to do anything but watch.

it was the last quarter and the score was tied, and every play felt like life or death. the crowd was on its feet, the noise deafening, as D took the snap for the final play. they dropped back, scanning the field, their movements precise and fluid. princeton’s defense was closing in, but D didn’t flinch. and then, with a leap that seemed to defy gravity, they threw the ball downfield.

touchdown.

the stadium erupted. the crowd screamed. the cheer squad jumped and waved their pom-poms like their life depended on it, but you couldn’t move. you just stood there, your heart pounding, your eyes locked on D.

they ripped off their helmet, their face flushed and damp with sweat, and for a moment, they let their teammates surround them, clapping them on the back, shouting their praise. but D’s eyes were searching, scanning the sidelines, until they found you.

and then they ran.

it wasn’t graceful or dramatic—it was desperate and urgent, like they couldn’t get to you fast enough. the crowd blurred around you, the noise fading into a dull hum, as D closed the distance between you.

they didn’t stop when they reached you, just grabbed you and pulled you into their arms, burying their face in your shoulder like they were afraid to let go. you could feel their heartbeat racing, their chest heaving as they caught their breath.

“i’m sorry,” D said, their voice muffled against your uniform. “i’m so sorry. i’m an idiot. i was scared, okay? i love you and i didn’t want to screw this up. i didn’t want to screw you up.”

you pulled back just enough to look at them, their gray eyes raw and unguarded, and you felt your own walls crumbling rapidly.

“you love me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

D nodded, their hands gripping your arms like you might vanish if they let go.

“i do. i love you,” they said, their voice cracking. “i love you so much it scares the hell out of me.”

you didn’t even realize you were crying until D’s thumb brushed a tear off your cheek. you let out a shaky laugh, leaning into them.

“i’m still supposed to be mad at you,” you said, but there was no heat in it.

D smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your chest ache.

“yeah,” they said. “but can you be mad at me and be completely mine?”

you nodded, choking back a sob as you wrapped your arms around their neck, pulling them into a kiss. the noise of the crowd surged back in, louder than ever, and it mingled with D and your teammates hollering suddenly. but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except D’s lips on yours, their hands on your waist, the way they held you like you were their centre of gravity.

when you finally pulled back, D rested their forehead against yours, their breath warm against your skin.

“will you still be cheering for me, baby?” they asked, their voice soft but hopeful.

you laughed through your tears, pressing another kiss to their lips. “always.”

[youarethedancingdean]

Hear me out: Modern AU.

Succesful rockstar!Eddie, very loud and confident in his stage persona, shy af in his private life. Comes out as gay to his fans.

Shitstorm emerges, cause people think he came out for the clout and isn't really gay in the first place.

To calm the storm, management forces him to find a date for the next event he and the band are invited to: A stupid fundraising gala he didn't want to go to to begin with. (The fundraising part is not stupid, but the stuck up assholes are.)

Eddie can't find a date cause– remember?– he's shy af and doesn't know how to talk to people, let alone men who he might be interested in.

Cue Steve Harrington, an elite escorting agency's most popular and most elegant escort. Sure, Eddie pays a shit load of money and Gareth was probably just joking when he suggested it. But, he'd been high one evening and started researching and Steve was the hottest piece of ass he'd ever seen, so he booked him.

What could go wrong?