#send me prayers

[gomzdrawfr]

I just barely healed from a nasty cough and now my brother want us to go karaoke at midnight wish me luck yall

[madaqueue]

guess i’m a ‘multi fandom’ blog now (it’s just me n childe)

[jenoutof10]

im so TIRED of seeing this fanart im working on rn but its taken TOO MUCH of my time to leave behind so im just powering thru rn

[wolvesandshine]

I’m so convinced that the only reason the Marauders find out about Remus being a werewolf is because of Regulus cause let’s be real all of them are dumbasses like this is how it prob went down

Sirius: My new best friend gets sick every month I don’t know what to do

Regulus *innocently*: oh so he’s like a werewolf?

Sirius *scandalised* : No-

Sirius: *thinking back to all the times Remus’s sickness coincided with the full moon*

Sirius: Oh fuck

[izaanagi]

“How does it feel to have your pussy pounded down by the same dick you said you would not come within fifteen feet of? Mh, little peach?”

The words come out stumped, crumbling beneath the strength of the trusts of your boss’ pelvis, his cock balls deep into you. There is no space for any other sounds in your mouth besides the incoherent mumbling of your pussy being stretched. 

“Look at you becoming speechless as soon as you get railed. What a spectacle,” Shouei mutters, his mouth breathing on your neck, “your legs spread wide open only for me.”

The rhythm he has going in and out is steady, not fast enough to make you cum right away but not slow enough to drive you mad. As Barou readjusts, looming over you, an involuntary clench of your pussy envelops Barou’s cock for a second. The split moment is enough to make him hiss, as you tug on the disheveled tie still around his neck - his mouth missing yours by a centimeter. 

“If only I knew fucking you would make your mouth shut, I would have done this sooner.”

[mead-iocre]

Now just imagine the looks on Leah and Alexia's faces when they realise that their girls are talking to each other and getting along like 'oh no, oh no, oh no'

The Leah noticing that spoiled!reader has moved Hermes for brat!reader and being all 'oh this is gonna be rough for us, she never does that? Do you know how often she does that?! I've had to sit somewhere else so her bag can be on a seat! We're doomed!' with Alexia becoming more scared with each word coming out of Leah's mouth

YES YES YESSSSS

leah would notice first because she's the type to periodically sneak glaces towards the stands to check on her sweet (non-football loving) gf.

she expected to find her busy on her phone or reading the latest issue of vogue, so imagine her surprise when she looks over to see her chatting with a woman wearing a barcelona shirt???

during a water break, she approaches mariona asking her if she recognises who the woman next to her gf is and mariona goes "oh that's alexia's girlfriend. she's cool" and leah's like she better be ffs. leah's a little overprotective about spoiled!reader okay, but she feels better knowing that it's not someone weird who snuck into the friends and family section. at first, leah thinks its a good thing. that maybe having more friends in the stands will make her girlfriend enjoy coming to football matches more.

leah goes over to alexia since the match hasn't resumed yet and points them out to the spaniard. and alexia's like "oh that's--what the fuck?!" and leah's like "crazy, huh. your girl must be really special since mine willingly moved her bag off the seat for her-- she never does that by the way. I've had to give up my own chair sometimes"

and alexia just raises an eyebrow at her, mentally thinking "shit. her girl seems like a handful". before looking back at the two still chatting animatedly, spoiled!reader's hands flying everywhere as she talks and brat!reader listening just as intently.

alexia goes "my girl is usually not one to make friends so easily..."

"why is that?"

and then they both speak at the same time, "cos she's crazy" "is she crazy?"

and then they have that moment of realisation and just kind of look at each other with wide eyes. they simultaneously look towards the stands at their lovers and then back at each other again as it dawns on them.

then the referee blows the whistle.

match resume.

[anntickwittee]

TAMORA PIERCE HAS RETIRED!?!?

[ynhart]

I have a special prayer request. Today is the anniversary of my mom's death. Can I ask for some prayers?

[cyrusbug]

Krox -> my half of an art trade with @iloveacronix

[heybiji]

dande's dying btw

[imagineitdearies]

~ A Flawed Eternity ~

(AKA drabbles set in the Perfect Slaughter universe.) Thanks to my new author discord community for voting on this one! 🩵

In which Tyrus walks in on Astarion's 'alone time.'

~

Even though they’d cleared the tunnel under the river, secured the fishing hut and passage to sneak into the House of Healing, and had a half-reliable map of the Gauntlet of Shar, the war council had delayed an infiltration for almost a tenday merely arguing over who would go.

With the colder weather creeping in and battles stagnating into standoffs, Tyrus supposed they foolishly thought they had time.

Morfred wanted a larger group to ensure they had enough support. Jaheira said no more than three highly-skilled individuals, to give them better chances at stealth. Ganyl simply wanted to go, even though his entire enclave was against risking their leader, and it took two meetings just to talk him down. Halfred didn’t think the quiet assassination plan of Ketheric Thorm was a good idea in the first place. They all worried that Ketheric’s brother, Malus Thorm, could be too tight-lipped or ignorant of the Gauntlet’s secret entrance to be worth the risk of fighting first.

Astarion had given up on attendance for the last two meetings. But as designated ‘Leader of the Vampires,’ however underqualified Tyrus felt he was for such a role, he felt obligated to attend. Just so he’d have updates to give Astarion and the spawn army below, really. He and Astarion had come up with the idea of a quiet assassination to avoid further bloodshed, so they were already guaranteed a spot in the party if and when it was approved. Halsin was a tentative third in Ganyl’s place, though Jaheira wanted it to be herself who struck Ketheric’s killing blow.

Now Tyrus felt close to giving up himself. He left the meeting before its scheduled end when Jaheira and Halfred started a shouting match about the risks of trying Ketheric's son at the Waning Moon Tavern instead, and Messaged Ganyl to send word if a decision had finally been made. Then he crossed the road past the armory, over the short bridge and around the small, cheery fountain in front of their temporary abode of late, the Last Light Inn.

Tyrus let out a plaintive sigh of relief the moment he was through the doors and could shrug off the sapping weight of the Cloak of Dragomir, avoiding the occasional beam of sunlight until he reached the stairs and could head down to the basement floor. Most of the rooms were used for storage—but at the end, built around the low docks the inn now used to receive war supplies from the east, were a couple of suites that looked directly out over the Chionthar.

He hadn’t expected to find Astarion in their suite, really. His partner liked to socialize a lot more than Tyrus ever did. In their short time here, he’d already been chatting with some soldiers at the inn’s bar, meeting more often with Halsin, and playing enough lanceboard he now could beat Tyrus if he focused hard enough. Astarion was used to crowds, to strangers, while Tyrus still found himself seeking the safety of four walls and a single locked door.

As he reached the door, however, Tyrus thought that safety must have been an illusion as his ears picked up Astarion’s voice, loud and seemingly in distress.

“Ah!—ah, gods—Tyrus!”

Tyrus wrenched the door open in a panic, hurrying inside—

—and was confronted with the sight of Astarion in a bath, pale face flushed, eyes squeezed shut, steamy water sloshing around the fast pace of his wrist under the water as he tugged at his pink, erect cock.

Tyrus stared. Even as Astarion’s eyes wrenched open bleary and wide, his hand freezing in the water, Tyrus couldn’t stop looking. He’d seen Astarion’s cock before so many times—but in his defense, it’d been months. Only feeling the shape of it in Astarion’s trousers when their kissing progressed further, only seeing Astarion’s bare body offhandedly as they dressed. Now Tyrus could also admire how much more lively Astarion’s skin looked despite still being pale, how his half-submerged, muscled middle had softened into looking less malnourished and dehydrated thanks to a healthy diet.

After another second, Astarion relaxed a bit. He waved toward Tyrus with the hand that had a moment before held a death-grip on the wooden tub’s edge, smirking as he huffed, “Could you close that, love?”

Tyrus’s momentary shock at the man’s beauty faded, then, in time for his rational brain to kick in. “I can come back later—?” he started to offer.

“No—no, I . . .” Astarion interjected, only to hesitate. His eyes trailed away for a moment, uncertainty lining his face. 

Tyrus retreated back to the door. “I don’t want to interrupt,” he spoke in earnest, and smiled at Astarion when the other vampire tentatively met his gaze again. “Truly—I’d much rather you enjoy yourself, like you’ve been wanting to.”

“Not quite like how I’ve wanted to,” Astarion scoffed, though a moment later the lines on his face faded. “No, stay here, darling. If you’d like to. I’m only imagining you here anyhow.”

“That’s quite different,” Tyrus pointed out, though he went ahead and shut the door, locking it for good measure before turning back to Astarion.

“Is it? I was just thinking of you interrupting me like this,” Astarion smirked, gesturing at himself. The hand in the water wandered back between his legs and began to lightly stroke as he sighed, “Though in my head I skipped the part where a whole conversation would be necessary for you to join. Bring a stool?” he nodded at the floor just next to the tub.

Tyrus didn’t hesitate to obey. He grabbed a small cushioned one in front of the sheet-covered mirror and placed it so he could sit just next to the tub’s head. His stomach swooped at being this close to Astarion—at watching him stroke himself again, bare and exposed save for the flimsy distortion of the sudsy water.

He wanted to touch him. He wanted to help, or at least kiss Astarion. But he wouldn’t dare do a thing without checking, given how impossible it’d been for Astarion to be sexually intimate since Cazador’s death.

And Astarion was such a pretty sight just to watch, with his eyes shutting again and dark lashes on display, pink lips slightly parted. Meanwhile, his small breaths and huffs of pleasure as he built back into a rhythm sounded sweeter to Tyrus’s ears than any melody. Even the smell of him was delightful. That smoky, musky perfume he always had a slight hint of at the palace was now much more refined and strong thanks to their shopping in the city. It was already a feast for the senses, if not all of them.

But when Astarion’s other hand extended just a bit past the tub, palm up, Tyrus was quick to take it and enjoy a sense of touch as well. Astarion hummed and pulled their clasped hands down into the water, flattening Tyrus’s palm to rub against his inner thigh. Tyrus gratefully mimicked the movement, and next let Astarion’s hand overtop his guide him to gently handle Astarion’s ball sack, eventually taking over to stroke his erection in tight, quick motions Tyrus still remembered the rhythm of well. 

Astarion’s hand stayed cupped around his throughout it all, continually guiding and keeping control even as he sighed, “Tyrus . . . uh, I’ve missed these hands . . .”

“Would you like it if I did anything else?” Tyrus murmured, after another minute of nothing but stroking and listening to Astarion’s heavy breathing.

Astarion’s eyes shot open, head lifting to regard Tyrus with a furrowed brow. His hand slowed Tyrus’s to a stop. “Such as?”

Tyrus bit back the assertion of Anything, anything at all. Giving actual ideas would probably be more helpful, if Astarion didn’t have his own. “Kiss you. Your lips, your neck,” Tyrus started with. “Or . . . here,” smiling as his thumb idly swiped over the head of Astarion’s cock and his partner visibly shuddered in response. Letting his voice go a bit lower, as he pointed out, “I don’t need to breathe, after all.”

“Fuck,” Astarion swore, then gave a short, barking laugh. “This is what four months of celibacy has done to my sweet, virtuous partner? I didn’t think you even liked that sort of activity, darling.”

“I haven’t ever tried it, technically. At least not of my own accord, so,” Tyrus shrugged. 

The air went somber ever-so-slightly at his words. 

"Shall I?" Tyrus asked in hopes of dispelling it.

“Not this time, my love,” Astarion sighed, starting to move Tyrus’s hand again around him. “But . . . yes—kiss me, please. I think I just need a little bit more of something—”

Tyrus wasted no further time. They’d kissed goodbye only hours ago when he left for the council meeting, but it’d been more than a tenday since Astarion had kissed him like this. One of their first nights in this inn, in fact, before he’d grabbed one of Tyrus’s wandering hands by the wrist and ended things rather abruptly. But whatever else Tyrus did or did not feel in the mood for otherwise, he never got tired of kisses—Astarion’s free hand cupping his jaw close, lips so passionately pressing and sliding against Tyrus’s, tongue darting out to taste and in return welcoming him in.

His instinct was to bury his free hand in Astarion’s curls, but Tyrus gripped the tub’s edge instead. He didn’t want to risk the wrong touch ending this lovely, easy moment. Not when Astarion was so clearly enjoying his other hand’s touch at the moment, hips bucking up and splashing the water a bit more.

Sometime later, a small moan escaped Tyrus when Astarion slid his hand back to tightly cup the nape of his neck, angling Tyrus’s head for an even deeper, all-consuming kiss. Astarion’s hand tightened a bit further around Tyrus’s in the water, so he sped up his movements even more—and groaned with Astarion as the other elf wrenched free of their kiss and threw his head back, shouting “Tyrus!” shakily, his cock pulsing in Tyrus's grip, his spend streaking in the water as the press of his bent legs made the wooden tub slightly creak in protest.

Tyrus kissed down Astarion’s neck and bobbing adam’s apple, slowing his strokes with the guidance of Astarion’s hand as Astarion breathed harshly through the aftershocks. When at last Astarion released his grip on Tyrus in the water, head resting against the tub again, Tyrus went back to gently stroking his smooth inner thigh. He rested his forehead against the other man’s clavicle, listening to them both breathe for a moment before whispering, “Alright?”

Astarion huffed—and then he began laughing. A soft, lighthearted, warm sound Tyrus couldn’t help but smile at, and hoped never to forget as Astarion’s chest lightly shook underneath him. Then Astarion’s wet arm emerged from the water and wrapped around Tyrus, pulling him in just a bit closer despite the awkwardness of the tub between them.

“Oh, besides a sore wrist of late,” he chortled, laying his cheek against Tyrus’s head when his giggling finally stopped. “I did start to find some enjoyment, even managed an orgasm the last two times, though. And this? Hmm . . . this is nice.”

Tyrus smiled wider against his chest. Of course, after another minute his back twinged and he regretfully had to pull from Astarion’s embrace—but was grateful his partner quickly dried off and joined him on the bed, despite the fact only Tyrus still needed a trance.

Once they'd both changed and his lover was spooning him snugly from behind, Tyrus thought to ask, “Have there been other things you like to imagine? Any specifics that I should take into account?”

The entire line of Astarion’s body froze up behind him. “I . . . I wouldn’t say there’s much I’m sure about acting on, darling,” he said in a slow, careful voice. “It’s been hard enough just to imagine sex without the thought of a customer, or him, intruding. Once that’s less an issue, I—I should be back to normal.”

“Normal,” Tyrus huffed, shaking his head and hugging Astarion’s arm a little closer to his chest. Being around relatively ‘normal’ people of late had taught Tyrus just how far off he and anyone else from the spawn colony were likely ever to be from such an ideal. “But hand jobs with you guiding me, would you say that goes on the safe list?” he stipulated.

Astarion was quiet for a moment. Then he kissed the tip of Tyrus’s ear, repeating, “The safe list, what a sad state of affairs—but yes, I’d call that a success. We’ll have to see about your mouth. And perhaps, if you’re up for it, I think I'd enjoy some unconventional stimulation, just skin-to-skin.” A beat of silence, then Astarion’s voice came out so soft and uncertain, almost afraid, as he admitted, “I . . . I’d still like a break from anything so performative as full intercourse, if that’s alright . . . and, if you can forgive it, I may still just need time, before I can offer attentive service to you, love . . .”

Tyrus twisted under Astarion’s arm so he could face him—but only to wrap his arms tightly around him, tucking his chin into the crook of Astarion’s neck. Declaring, gently but firmly, “There’s nothing to forgive, and no service to worry about. You have always been so giving, love." Even more softly, he coaxed, "Now, let’s take care of you for a while?”

Tyrus felt his partner’s body shudder in his arms. Then, increment by increment, Astarion melted into the embrace.

“Gods, I do love you,” he whispered in answer.

[fizzyorange-v2]

on not being able to save those you love, even from themselves

“I've been inside his head. That guy's a piece of shit.”

“It doesn't matter. I-I don't want to be someone who leaves people behind. I want to be someone who saves his family. And for better or worse... he's family.”

Credits:

1 - Billy-Ray Belcourt, A History of My Brief Body / Virgina Woolf, Final Letter to Her Husband // 2 - Nick Schager, The Boys Recap: Don’t Forget Your Second Wind // 3 - Adrienne Rich, For the Dead // 4 - Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care / The Boys, Assassination Run / Lena Oleanderson, Love in the Thoracic Cavity / Friedrich Nietzsche / @ell-hs, x / unknown // 5 - The Front Bottoms, Twelve Feet Deep / Dazai Osamu, No Longer Human / Walter Benjamin, One Way Street (tr. Edmund Jephcott), Selected Writings, Vol I: 1913-1926 / lillie, via Pinterest // 6 - John Le Carré, The Looking Glass War / Bring Me the Horizon, True Friends / starparkdesigns, via Instagram // 7 - Clive Barker, The Hellbound Heart / The Crane Wives, Tongues and Teeth / @neuxue, x // 8 - Susan Sontag, As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks (1964 - 1980) / Molly McAdams, Stealing Harper (Taking Chances, #1.5) / The Mountain Goats, Training Montage / Hael, Who Made You A Monster? // 9 - Bares, Montage // 10 - Aeschylus, Agamemnon / Garth Ennis, Preacher / D.N., excerpt from a book i'll never write #71 / @catradoraism, x / Poor Man’s Poison, Black Sheep // 11 - The Mountain Goats, Up the Wolves // 12 & 13 - Natalie Young, Notes on Earth Life // 14 - Brandon Sanderson, The Final Empire / unknown / David Fincher, The Social Network // 15 - Margaret Atwood, "Hesitations outside the door", Power Politics / @theartistichuman, x / Jorge Rivera-Herrans, No Longer You // 16 - unknown

as always please let me know if any links break, any credit is incorrect, or if you’re aware of where a missing piece of media is from :]

[vcidheart]

KENDRICK LAMAR | NOT LIKE US

[watchingblsnowandforever]

After watching The Heart Killers trailer, I really wanna say send help, but the help won't be able to understand why I'm sobbing and laughing and giggling at the same time so I'll have to show them the trailer too, but then they'd be in the same state so-

[peasant-player]

I just saw a YT video where some random people put electronics house hold items on a S- tier to F-tier :

To all of you out there who puts a vacuum cleaner over a washing mashine

I hope you get haunted by a laundry women. Or by your grandma.

And special mentions to:

that one woman that thinks that the fuckin Dyson Air wrap is S-Tier

And to that one man that puts the satisfyer on F-Tier.

I hate you both.

[awfullybigwardrobe44]

back at it with another prayer request!

hello friends!

i am the world’s biggest supporter of mental health medication. It has helped me so much and it’s a lifeline for some of us. I sincerely believe it’s a gift from God.

however. I am experiencing some Not Good side effects after being on one of my meds for a few years, and I need the dosage to be dropped. This is unfortunately the med that helps with my depression, and in the week and a half since I’ve been on the lower dose, I’m experiencing little twinges of depression. Nothing unmanageable, but I’m worried it’s going to get worse.

please pray I can have the dosage successfully lowered without becoming too depressed, or even without being depressed at all! I really need this.