#or a toxic thing

[r0semultiverse]

Like music to my ears

[enteleqia]

( thanks dagnerd for the translation) I like gravity falls fanarts, but I was intimidated to post something. Do you think they have wiifi in the theraprism?

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[inkskinned]

you tried everything. you tried relationship check-ins and using positive thinking. you tried modelling healthy coping strategies and printing out pages of cognitive behavioral therapy tricks. you tried relationship podcasts and audiobooks and posts on instagram. you tried steamrolling your own emotions and making yourself into a fractal of a person. you tried ripping out your own hair and you tried to feed from your own stomach. you tried setting boundaries - and when that failed, you tried to be okay with broken boundaries.

you tried explaining, over and over and over. you tried long-winded texts that delicately apologized and took accountability; you tried short and earnest apologies that directly confronted the issue. you tried letting them apologize first - and when that didn't work at all, you tried to delicately explain you needed their apology.

you tried, because you really thought they could change. sometimes, if you caught them in the right moment - they even seemed willing. they would nod and agree to try therapy (eventually) or try calming techniques (eventually) or try safe communication practices (eventually) or try -

and you feel like a fool, because you gave them so much grace about it, and that's how things got so bad for so long. you were being patient and kind and willing. you gave them time. you promised yourself that next week, they'd be better. next week, they'd be the partner you needed. next week, they'd be there for you. they'd finally see all the effort and love and trying! and as some kind of divine reward, why, they'd finally -

the whole time your boundaries shifted and swam. since you were being patient with them, you started taking barely-there token actions as being "enough." okay, they didn't really apologize, but even the use of the words "i'm sorry" was enough! okay, they didn't support you through grief, but afterwards they seemed guilty about that and offered to buy you sushi. wasn't that all good enough? isn't love about growth and bringing the other person up with you?

so when you finally broke about this and finally decided to run: well, you had expected to be ruined. you had cried in the shower picturing it. and instead. instead. you were suddenly, coldly, wildly - done.

[actually-mentally-ill]

sorry, did you say,

“toxic, dangerous, sexy af and could probably kill me at any given moment if they wanted”?

…

[nova-rpv]

reviving for pride w the trans bisexaul ever

dont forget your daily clicks!!

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

[purgatorygrl]

I wish that, instead of reacting angrily or feeling attacked by the love many women feel for Love and Deepspace, some men would adopt a more open attitude and use the lessons this game offers to improve the way they treat their partners and women in general.

Love and Deepspace is designed to make us feel loved and to convey what love should feel like. For me (and I know for many others), it has taught me to understand what I truly desire in a relationship and how I want to be treated. Love interests are designed to make us feel valued, prioritized, and deeply loved. They are attentive, respectful, and caring, showing their love without coercion or demands, putting us first, and the evolution of the relationship and its intimacy is built on trust and mutual respect.

Even mechanics like the menstrual cycle representation, which has been criticized so much, are a reflection of the care and empathy that should exist in a healthy relationship. Understanding your partner's stage of the cycle not only allows you to support them more sensitively, but also to show meaningful support during phases like the luteal phase or menstruation itself.

This game isn't about sex or pornography, as many people think, but about love, respect, and genuine affection. It teaches us what true love feels like, what a healthy relationship should be like, and what it means to be authentically loved. There's nothing wrong with this, nor should those of us who enjoy this experience feel ashamed.

[seizethegay420]

I think In-ho Hannibal Lectered too close to the sun

[hasello]

random AU doodles!

next part

[cor-lapis]

"If we must fight, Sethos... I shall defeat you with the power of my friend group of employed adults who miraculously have regularly scheduled meet-ups, and also my daughter!"

[redesigns]

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

[unknownhyperial]

Everytime I see a take saying that they have no sympathy for Ragatha because shes toxic and was horrible to Jax this episode I want to bash my head into a wall /silly

I think a lot of people are misunderstanding what she meant by "Not anymore...". She didn't mean "Oh lmao his friend died" she meant "After he became an asshole everyone stopped wanting to be friends with him" yet Jax misunderstood it as the former. You can tell thats not what she meant because she says as much when she notices him death glaring her. And no, its not an excuse because she "thought he wouldn't hear her". She knew he could probably hear her and expected a different reaction because she meant something different.

I'm so tired of people calling her horrible for making a couple mistakes towards someone whos been blatantly an asshole. I love Jax. I love him a lot, but he doesn't deserve all the sympathy here. Ragatha isn't some secretly evil and toxic person. Shes a person who's fawning as a response to trauma and is making mistakes.

[nenoname]

like father, like son....

[apple-onigiri]

these two are incapable of acting normal for a single millisecond. why are they like this

[heartmilheart]

The most obvious Byler proof is this Jancy - Byler parallel:

Nancy not being able to say "I love you" to Steve

And then going to Johnathan for comfort and advice

Mike not being able to say "I love you" to El

And then going to Will for comfort and advice

Not only that, the car scenes are very similar

- sitting on a car

- soda

- Wheeler on (their) right

- Byers on (their) left

Byler endgame is real guys 😋

There is so much more proof btw and don't come at me with "Oh but Mike is straight!" Just search up "Mike Wheeler queercoding and watch the video by Lesbianmindflayer about it, you might have to pause to read tho, or there's also another video which is longer by someone else but I haven't seen it yet so can't say anything about it. You will see that he is so much more queercoded than Will himself, the canon (confirmed) gay character.

Heartmilheart out