#or both bc fuck you

[oifaaa]

So like is it just me or does it seem like genius level characters are hard for some writers to write a lot of times they seem to fall into the same pit falls of either making the genius character clairvoyant or just dumbing down everyone else in the entire world

[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.

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[carpbait]

hey guys. runs into a wall

[princescar]

Like a rose, gorgeous but not afraid to stab if you get handsy.

letting you know that you have to listen to this song if you want to properly enjoy this art.

[seawitchkaraoke]

never gonna get tired of Aabria and Brennan playing dnd together, they know each other so well, they are so fun, they're clearly having so much fun ''does Evan have a grenade??'' ''idk will you let me? :)'', ''you know what I'm gonna ask'' ''yeah I throw myself in front of Sam, absolutely'', ''I'll give it to you, if you detach your shadow'' ''.....(pause, clearly aware that with Aabria as a dm, this will have Consequences) yeah I do it, I want to get all of them'', ''is my shadow back with us?'' ''no :)'' ''okay. (concerning)''

And that's just this episode, but there's so many little moments in all of their campaigns that really read as ''I will fuck you up <3'' ''I know and I am walking into it with open eyes <3'' from both of them, never hold any punches, because they know the other one doesn't want them to, just. Inflicting emotional damage on each other for funsies is a love language I guess?

It's beautiful

[scribz-ag24]

More things with the villain quartet (previous post)

thank you special episode 4 for confirming misogyny exists in pmd so i can make this joke

Anyways i tried to note down a more serious version of how they would react to each other but i kinda gave up halfway through and wrote whatever

[lotus-pear]

whatever happens, please don’t break

[cheesenchalk]

thinking about that time somewhere in the early 70's George found an old letter of his from like '61 or something and pattie told him he should save it so he 'recreated' it and just for funsies threw in a line or two that wasn't in the original about how paul sucked at bass and john wanted to kick him out of the band. unparalleled haterism. you have to respect it

[crazysodomite]

🌠

[shouyuus]

cheesy af but pussydrunk Vi accidentally mentioning marriage?

she... she would tho.

so painfully 18+, mndi, merry xmas to the gays and only the gays

just fucking you slow, after pulling a good few orgasms out of you already with her mouth and her fingers, after you've also made her eyes roll back with nothing but your tongue on her clit, your fingers reaching up to tug on her pierced nipples, the buds made that much more sensitive by the metal rods, her mind caught somewhere between her lips and the high cap of the ceiling in your dorm, the winter sun pale and timid, peering behind a sheaf of clouds, shining through the half-drawn blinds.

"fuck, sweet girl -- feel so good -- mmm --" she mumbles, not all that sure what she's even saying anymore, her hips rocking against you of it's own accord, her thumb pushed against the pad of your tongue as you moan around her finger, spit slicking across your lips.

"vi -- vi -- please, please, please --" you groan, hips bucking up weakly even as she rucks down over you, her breath breaking at the catch of your oversensitive clits rubbing against one another. she squeezes out a breath, frowning down at the mess of slick skin and reddening skin at the place where both your bodies connect, her mind a blissed out smear of want and love and not much else.

"feel so good, pretty, wanna make you cum again -- yeah? you want that?" she asks, hooking one of your legs over her shoulder, you tossing your head back into the sheets, fingers scrabbling at her thighs as she adjusts her angle and your cunts are slotting against each other in just the right way.

"wanna make you mine -- you mine, pretty girl? holy fuck --" and she's rambling, she knows she's rambling, the words just pouring from her before she has the chance to think them through, "all mine -- mmngh -- gonna be mine forever? yeah? god fuck, wanna fuck this pussy for the rest of my life -- you want that, pretty? wanna be mine forever? want me to wife you up? fuck yeah -- that'd be nice wouldn't it?"

you keen, the sound going straight to her clit as she gasps, and then you're cumming too, hard and fast, gushing against her, the peak of it so sudden she doesn't quite know what to do, but its so hot watching you come undone like this that it has her gasping a second later, her high hitting just has hard, her fingers digging into your thigh as she rides her her orgasm against you, even though you're oversensitive and twitching, she holds your hips, rocking into you till you're squirming, pushing weakly at her arms.

"holy shit vi..." you breathe, fighting to catch your breath.

vi chuckles, collapsing down next to you, an arm thrown casually over your middle as you cuddle in next to her.

after a few seconds you turn.

"d-did you mean it?"

"mean what, pretty girl?" she asks, turning slightly, her eyes still glazed out and dark, her cheeks bright with the glow of her recent orgasm. you lick your lips; she's so, so beautiful like this, fucked out and messy, and a little lovesick as she looks over your face.

"when you..." you gulp, "when you said you... wanted me to be yours... forever...?"

vi blinks at you for a few seconds before her pink cheeks stain an even darker shade of damson.

"holy fuck -- i -- sorry, i didn't know i said that out loud -- i didn't mean to --" she scrambles up, shaking her head. you chase her up, tugging on her arms.

"no, no! it's -- i mean -- i didn't mind -- i just --" you swallow, licking at your suddenly dry lips, "did you... did you really mean it?"

"i -- i don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable or anything but..." vi peers at you, almost shy as she twists her fingers in her lap, the blush now spreading down her neck into her chest and back. you bite back a giggle as you pillow your cheek on her shoulder.

"it... it doesn't make me uncomfy, i just... i just wanna know if you meant it."

vi licks her lips, glancing back at you.

"i-if i meant it... would you... would you say yes?"

you chew on the inside of your cheek, your eyes flickering up to meet hers.

a beat of silence passes between you before you smile, slow and indulgent.

"yeah. yeah... i would."

vi's expression breaks into shock, and then unbridled ecstasy. she stares at you, her eyes so wide they almost look like dinner plate, before she's dragging you forward into her lap, kissing you so hard you have to thump your fists against her chest to remind her to let you go.

"i -- sorry -- fuck -- that was -- i -- you -- god i love you so much, you know that?" she asks, cupping your cheeks and pressing her forehead to yours.

you laugh, toppling into her, the pair of you still naked, but the room is bubbling over with warmth.

"yeah, i know. i love you too, vi."

vi laughs, nodding, before she traces both thumbs along your cheeks and tilts your face up towards hers again.

"hey pretty girl... tell me again..."

you let out a shy little giggle, but vi holds you fast. her eyes soft on yours.

"will you marry me?"

you nod, your cheeks still squished between her palms, but your own hands find their way to her wrists as you turn to press a soft kiss to the pad of her hand.

"yes, vi. yes, i will."

[bitegore]

Zionists want you to conflate Judaism and Zionism. Zionists want you to believe that Judaism cannot exist without Zionism and that all Jews are Zionists. Zionism would have Jews believe that a Jewish state is the only way that they can be safe from antisemitism and will point to any instance of antisemitism as proof that Zionism is the solution- so Zionism wants gentiles to be antisemitic in their support of Palestine. They want you to conflate all Jews with Zionism and the state of Israel, and they want you to treat all Jews regardless of political affiliation as the face of Israel. Antizionist Jews exist, and incidences of antisemitism ostensibly acting against Zionism will not help dismantle the forces propping Zionism up.

Don't do their work for them.

[professorjirt]

I’ve discovered my favorite genre of Bagginshield art is where Thorin is a lovesick idiot who is Losing It and Bilbo is unbothered or oblivious to Thorin’s suffering LMAO

[bunbunism]

AHHH A TOTAL OF 50 SM HOURS IT'S DONE 🐡

I'm a bit late but like genuinely the last song made me bawl for hours, it means so much to me be represented, I barely see anything actually portraying bipolar, ocd, osdd, (lots of D's hehe) autism, pots yk all the crazy stuff I got and even if they are it's in an negative light, where they end up miserable forever or they'll some horrible person

Forgive me for the yap 🙏

( thank you on notes + reblogs on the sketch, made a grown man cry tears of joy fr)

[rystiel]

what’s kinda crazy is that, had filbrick been a better father and raised them in a loving home, the twins probably could’ve actually made a lot of money for the family… stan was never accommodated for while growing up so he never got to demonstrate his smarts (and he is very smart, he taught himself advanced math and shit while building a long-lasting business from scratch, man), and instead he was made to feel more and more worthless, like he had nothing to contribute to the world—the only purpose he was able to find was to always be there for his brother. what was he if he didn’t have a brother to be there for anymore? of course he would eventually lash out over losing ford (and accidentally ruin ford’s project in the process). on the other hand, ford had so much pressure on him that he pushed himself too hard to prove just how smart he was. to prove that he was the best. he needed to hear how smart he was, because what was he if he wasn’t a genius? of course bill’s manipulation worked on him. of course he wanted to make something that could change the world despite the potentially dangerous nature of it, something that would put his name in the history books. his only value was to bring success to his family, and this was how he was going to do it. if stan had been encouraged and supported, he could have used his skills to find success. if ford hadn’t been put under so much pressure, he wouldn’t have needed to turn to a literal demon so he could prove himself. he could’ve focused on the other groundbreaking research he already had in gravity falls. stan probably never would have broken that project in the first place and ford would’ve made it to his dream school, just like filbrick wanted.

[weewoo911]

While it’s ridiculous that “Buck is only dating Tommy to keep him away from Eddie” is a take I’ve seen twice on this hellsite - the concept of Buck jumpin’ on that dick like it’s a grenade to shield the homies is so fucking funny to me you guys can’t be fr

[lotus-pear]

rewatched madoka magica again today bc i fucking hate myself and to absolutely no one’s surprise i went through all five stages of grief in a single evening