#the circularity of it pleases me

[karlkapri]

this is a democracy

[tenisperfection]

An underrated thing about the bachelor party scene where Tommy hugs Buck before going to work is Buck's small little "yeah, okay" when Tommy promises him that he'll try his damnedest to make it to the wedding. It is such a small moment but maybe because of his history of love interests putting work over him as well as his own abandonment issues, there is a part of Buck that doesn't look like he believes Tommy, that takes it as what someone says when they leave and don't come back or intend to come back, even when Buck waits and waits (I'm going to be right here when you come back, okay?). So the fact that Tommy literally ran from the fire to the hospital, still in his turnouts and covered in soot, all because he promised Buck he would try his best to show up and he meant it? I love that for Buck. I love the look on his face as he reads Tommy's text, because this might be new but it is good for him to finally feel like a priority in a romantic relationship in ways he's not experienced before.

[marlenacantswim]

drew a quick little spirk :)

additional drawings under the cut, snip snip

it's essential he (I) have them for the enterprise (my simon pegg hyperfixation) to continue functioning

[fishluring]

making an astronomy/meteoritics iterator oc when i know fuckall or at least just very basic things about those things was maybe a mistake. Looking up stuff for reference/inspo like haha i like your funny words magic man

[sora-of-uranus]

thematically for me the final life series would have to end with either Grian or Jimmy winning (circular narative for grian, Canary curse ending and it being a big final huhrah) Emotionally however I need joel to win one. Please.

[furnass]

Bitches be like. Look at how cute this character is.

[image of a massive mech / robot character]

[cupidswurld]

thinking about supernaturals circular narrative. how i don’t (and won’t) watch sitcoms because of the conventions of a circular narrative.

the parallels of how characters are reduced into one-dimensional imitations of who the audience perceived them to be, boiled down into their most defining, dividing traits— a phenomenon exclusive to the intrinsic nature of sitcoms. thinking about how everything that is learnt in one episode, is forgotten in the next— how there is no progress, how there is no change and everything will always, always stay the same for the sake of the audience where nothings new.

part of why dean felt he wouldve been better off dead, about why he didnt deserve to be saved, was because he could never make any difference. how they were trapped by the same story, over and over again, that nothing mattered no matter what he did, because he'd just end up in the very same position he was 15 years ago. even before the insertion of chuck's storyline, before freewill, the pervasive hand of the writers have always held them down from the very first episode

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

I wasn't ever planning on posting here again but I was innocently scrolling on Twitter when the latest merch set punched me in the face and I just can't stay quiet about it.

Shin...

What.

Is on.

Your head????

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

τραγῳδίες | Goat Songs

Sophokles tr. Anne Carson // Aeschylus tr. Robert Icke // Franny Choi // Quora answer // Richard Siken // source not found // Muse Lee & Aaron Reed // Richard Siken

[mellotronmkll]

i like literally wish i didnt feel compelled to rewatch and relisten to the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again its like actually really annoying and frustrating because i just feel like im constantly stuck in a loop doing the same things over and over but thats just literally what its like being autistic like its just frustrating cos i dont want to have to be constantly fighting with myself over it because its like okay we dont need to get stuck in the daily loop of walking in circles for hours listening to the same songs we've heard 200 times or sitting and watching things we've seen 30 times and there are better ways we could be spending our time but the compulsion is SO strong and its just Omfg like its just annoying and horrible because I have to force myself to try to break out of patterns I wish the constant compulsion I have to do the same things over and over and over and over and OVER AND OVER wasnt there at all because it would make things way easier for me and it just makes me feel so dumb.

[mxchaelsaftxns]

thinking about nightmare, thinking about the trauma it as an entity represents, thinking about it being what haunts michael until ennard is thrown into the mix -- this black bear with red and gold accents -- only to face another animatronic with an almost exact same color scheme in the days before the fnaf6 fire

[potatoesandsunshine]

getting a start on the corkboard! my idea is, as i finish projects i can put them up here like a little gallery just for me :)

[casasupernovas]

martha jones was a match for the doctor in every respect. but i guess that was too intimidating so they subordinated her with a unrequited love so the doctor could have the upper hand. it is so obvious.

honestly, the dismay i felt when i saw what direction they were going to with her when i first watched. i knew even when you can clearly see how awful the doctor was treating her, that people would take his side and call her mean, that she cared more about her feeling etc etc. make the black woman the character who doesn't know boundaries, the one who is repeatedly rejected. i love her with all my heart but sometimes i feel like the show didn't want her at all. why else was she either pushed to the side for rose in her own season, replaced by a clone in the sontaran two parter, pushed out of the story in 'the doctor's daughter' and completely seperated from everyone through the majority of the stolen/earth two parter? pushed with mickey to get their goodbyes out of the way so the episode could deal with emotional beats they actually cared about? like the first meeting with rose and donna's wedding?

sorry for the sad post, i try to talk positively about her here and call out bs to help, but i just felt particularly low about it today after reading from other black fans their reactions. a lot didn't continue the show because of it and i honestly don't blame them.

but i'll be back to being positive soon 😮‍💨

[poetryintheraw]

I have to read Plato for a class at school and I'm loosing my mind. It's just part of Book X from the Republic, but I swear this man is talking in circles. He keeps going on about how creating a "form" of a thing is not really creating, using the example of a couch and doesn't define what he means AT ALL.

JUST BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T INVENT THE IDEA OF A COUCH DOES NOT MEAN YOU CANNOT CREATE A COUCH.

This man was probably so easy to distract when teaching. You'd start asking questions with the most obvious answers, and he'd go on a two hour rant creating the most out of pocket insane answers you've ever heard in your life using purely circular reasoning.

[fingertipsmp3]

The last like 12 hours have been one disaster after another tbh and I think I am mostly to blame

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader. husband nanami, whiney nanami, brēeding, cowgirl, mdni. adding to this

riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose. focusing his weight purely on his rocking chair, the continuous creaks sing as you’re rutting back and forth. “s- sweetheart,” he slurs in a dreamy tune, a baritone-like rasp falling on his words. one hand of his grips toward your waist, tracing a thumb against the pretty curvature of your torso. whining yourself, you lean in toward his neck to bury your face near the crook, but he makes you collapse back. “no, no. don’t hide from me, wanna see those eyes,” and as gentle, mahogany irises meet your own, he groans. “good girl, my good girl. jus’ keep lookin’ at me, yeah.”

“kennnn,” you whimper, the repetitive dragging of your hips scratching a bittersweet carnal itch near the insides of your brain. his body heat was scorching hot, you thought you were gonna melt. the insatiable skin slapping against skin makes you deliriously numb, you want more. with your loose jaw hanging itself open, drooping—you lean in to lick a stripe up his neck. “fuck, ‘s good. mhm,” and each time you slam back and forth against him, he kisses his teeth. nanami’s sweating profusely, he barely even notices though because his entire attention’s focused on you. his pretty girl. although, the moment you start to dip your hips in a deep circular rotation, he tosses his head back.

“fuckin’ s- shittt,” he swears, and even his curses sounded so blissful . . sinful. for the first time in forever, nanami whines. the palm of his hand then closes in on your ass to give it a good firm squeeze. with fawn strands covering his eyes, he starts to shake. with his hefty chest heaving and a needy tone pouring from his voice, his gaze meets yours once more. “marry me, m- marry me, i need you to be my wife, please.”

an eyebrow of yours quirk upward at his words as a smile pierces its way against your spit-slicked lips. you throw your arms over his broad shoulders before giving him a sweet reply.

“hm?” and your hips had him going insane—the tempo, it was just right. not too fast nor too slow. the centers of your jittery knees bury itself into the sides of the chair before you whisper into his ear. “did you forget, baby? ‘m already your wife.”

nanami moans, your voice was enough to make him spasm right then and there—you sounded so sweet but your insides felt even sweeter.

your sloppy cunt grips against him tight like a vice, simply clinging onto him for dear life. within each pull and bounce against his lap, your walls were so gummy and goopy. it was just tantalizing. you were nothing but a tease and he only craved for more as each second passes.

taking in every inch of his thick cock, you hold back a noise yourself. digging the edges of your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress an incoming squeal, you kiss his neck — it was slow, you create a soft trail of butterflies with your lips. marking his neck with your own wings that press against your mouth.

“hah, oh . . are we?” he responds, panting. with a hand still glued to your hip like it’s made of adhesive, his eyes meets his ring finger. you and him were definitely still married. he groans, feeling a lump in his throat equivalent to the size of a saucer. “ah, forgive me sweetheart. ‘m sorry, y- your hips are just so..”

he doesn’t even bother trying to finish his trembling sentence before his cock kisses up against your g-spot once more. not just an ordinary kiss though, a french kiss.

it’s sloppy, passionate, and exquisitely thorough.

tangled fingers of yours claw at his cerulean blue dress collar. with cobwebs and cobwebs of slick saliva sloshing against each mouth — he huffs, shivering from your hands to roam further down his work shirt he wore. nanami was sexily slouched back, two thighs spread open for you with a single leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

oh, he was close. his base sags and hangs as you’re rutting against him quicker and quicker. with a nice amount of fingers scraping through his hair and toying your fingertips with his scalp, you dip your tongue further into his mouth. “m- my love,” he purrs, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so whiney. his voice was melodic at most, each breaking syllable making the throbbing between your legs intensify. “don’t stop, please—i love you, i love you.”

“i love you too ‘ken,” you babble, feeling the elastic stretch curve and pull through your walls.

your lips part and you moan before feeling him hold your waist tight. nanami groans against your ear and it’s so low that it was almost a mere growl. it could have easily been mistaken as a growl with the raspiness in his voice. with your knees continuing to plow deeper into the chair, bouncing back and forth, he spanks you, again, and again, and again.

nanami’s about to come, you know once his prettily blown irises roll wayyy back until he’s seeing white and his thin brows curl into a proper furrow.

each sloppy bounce against his lap punctuates so good that he’s barely able to hold his moans back by now. you had him hooked. his faint poking dimples press together as he tries to speak, but instead of words, another dragging whine escapes. leaning up against his ear, your warm breath tickles his lobe. “c’mon, kento. cum in me, ‘s okay. make a mess in me, baby.”

“f- fuck, keep talk to me just like that, sweetheart ‘n i might,” he replies back in a shaky tone, feeling a chill reside up his spine.

your cunt’s addictive warmth was preparing to milk him for all that he’s worth. as he clenches down on his jaw for the umpteenth time, his grip against your waist tightens. “ugh, ‘s gonna be so much. so much for you, my sweet l- love,” and as he’s rambling, a thick load abruptly shoots into your core, dribbling into your womb. it’s hot, and when it rains it pours. nanami swallows thickly, the same lump that lived in his throat was now forming into a ball. your hips steadily slow down and you glance down to see the lewd mess emitting deeply into you. it’s so much—it’s velvety, creamy ropes of cum that quickly fill you up to the very top. as his tip spits such sloppy amounts of seed into your starved cunt, he bites his lip. “oh, ‘s still comin’ out. forgive me, ‘m givin’ you all of me, princess.”

with a soft smile, you kiss near the crevice of his mouth where a tiny crinkle caresses and marinates against his soft features. “don’t apologize for being dirty, ken. ‘s okay.” and his face softens at your words. nanami feels his body shudder with heat from how gentle you were with him.

you’re clinging onto him dry and he’s still pumping you full of ridiculous inches—featuring his beloved, syrupy textured cum. it’s a whopping amount that he could barely process how much he’s gifted to you until he actually looks down. the moment chest deflates, the sensitive crown head of his cock gives your sweetest spot its final chaste kiss. satisfied with being filled to the very brim, you don’t get off just yet. instead, you remain there, gently brushing your hips forward.

“m- marry me,” he repeats, his voice cracking.

nanami hears the squelches and spurts your own pussy makes from the residue of cum spewing from the undersides of your legs. “ah,” and he grips your chin, attempting to kiss you but his lips instead reach toward your chin. you worn him out, he’s barely even reaching your mouth and it’s cute. nanami’s got hooded half lidded eyes and a pried open mouth. he’s almost drooling for you, that’s how whipped you had him. “be my wife, i need you.”

kissing his cheek, you smile at his current pussy drunken state. taking a mental image to savor this moment forever, a thumb brushes its way against his tender cheek. “i'm your wife already, silly,” and his eyes dramatically roll back in rapture again. nanami’s releases always last long, and he’s still getting over it. his dick twitches from the sound of your voice, and he wanted more of his sweet sweet wife. the feeling of your sopping walls squeezing him for every ounce of cum he’s got makes him grunt. it feels so good that it’s almost heavenly. it’s warm and insanely sticky — oozing in ropey wads from your hole before trickling all near his lap. “all yours, ken.”

“all m- mine,” he repeats breathlessly, gently grabbing your wrist up to his mouth.

with a sheepish exhale leaving his lips, a free hand slithers its way toward your tummy. sighing deeply, nanami makes direct eye contact. “my love,” he repeats for a final time, and you gasp once he suddenly pulls out.

pouting for a second at feeling empty, he makes you lie flat on your back. nanami’s got a feral look in his eyes, broad shoulders raising up and down and messy unkempt strands all in his face, he wants one thing tonight and it’s you.

as he spreads your quavering legs open with a single hand, he then creeps two fingers toward your stuffed cunt to smear his cum near your entrance. “since we’re already married, let me g- give you a baby, sweetheart. you’d be such a good m- mommy.”