#they are brushing their teeth

[zoeweee]

Some sleepy ronance

[akanemnon]

We don't talk about the scar

[rt0no]

[npdemu]

you're allowed to be proud of things that others would consider small you're allowed to be proud of eating food you're allowed to be proud of drinking water you're allowed to be proud of brushing your teeth you're allowed to be proud of washing your hair you're allowed to be proud of going outside you're allowed to be proud of having a conversation you're allowed to be proud of getting out of bed you're allowed to be proud of just surviving this long you're allowed to be proud of things that others would consider small

[tpup]

homeless and so fucking scared lol

[animeglitch]

[bed-of-ashes]

as an aroace person who sees other aspec people get frustrated with the lack of nonromantic relationships being represented as anything other than sibling, I grant you: hermit relationships

Grian & Pearl: siblings, actually

Pearl & Scott: platonic

Cleo & Scott: queerplatonic

Jimmy & Tango: romantic

Grian & Scar: sexual but like they turned Complicated pretty fast lets be real

Pearl & Gem: ????)?),?

Etho & Joel: probably a disorder really

Martyn & Ren: theater kids.

[bagel-bird-ainsor]

I love Dr. Habit. Gotta be one of my favorite genders.

Anyway playing Great God Grove got me thinking about Smile for Me and how much this game changed both my art style and my brain chemistry. And GGG is currently in the process of doing it again. Y’all will definitely get fanart for that once I finish it (no spoilers please)

heck this game inspired me to make my own puppet of my sona

[justaz]

arthur notices merlin and lancelot’s chemistry in s1 and then merlin and gwaine’s chemistry in s3 and comes to the conclusion that merlin likes men with long hair. in completely unrelated news, arthur thinks he might look good with long hair and decides to grow it out

[moondirti]

simon forcing your jaw unhinged and hooking two thick, salty fingers behind your molars to keep your mouth open, thumb pressing up on your top row of teeth. warns bite n and i’ll pluck em out, all low and coarse, voice deeper than it usually is. to be expected for the hour.

your body’s wedged between the bathroom countertop and his heavy body, struggling for air as his stomach crushes into your sternum. he’s in only his boxers — the usual sleep attire. you’re in nothing at all; though you’re given an old shirt to wear overnight, he insists you take it off for this part of your routine. doesn’t want it to get messy, he says. what you know is that he prefers to feel your bare tits heaving against him, nipples caught in the steel wool coils of his chest hair. as good as dead, like little flies in a spider trap.

the sun’s barely up. through the open door, pale blue light douses the bathroom in a similar hue. your eyes water, and the image blurs to one of wet dawn and the shadow he casts above you. you see his free hand working something, hear the run of tap water, smell the minty fresh dollop of toothpaste before it hits your teeth. the tears slip down your cheeks, and he comes into focus again. focused. cruel. face more scar tissue than flesh. the one that runs through his upper lip gives the impression that he’s always sneering, but you can glean what he looks like amused by now. his eyes are too narrow to be anything else.

brushing your teeth for you. considerate. he works in fast, rough circles. brutally efficient. there’s a metallic aftertaste to the bristles he runs along your gums. you must be bleeding. it’s harder to breath with the intrusion in your mouth. you spread your legs wider, giving his body more space to move. perhaps naively hoping it would be away from you. he only carves in closer.

there’s a hot mass pressing into your inner thigh now. simon makes sure to get the back of your mouth, polishing around your molars. he must be really into it; what, with the way his hips match the rhythm. grinding into your leg at the same tempo he cleans the backs of your teeth with. you’re like a little rag doll to his whims, manhandled by the hand anchored in your mouth. it pulls your body closer, tilts your head up higher.

your neck aches. there’s a ringing in your head. one of your hands acts against your will, clamping around his sturdy wrist for purchase. his erection has pushed up closer to your cunt. it’s mortifying when you’re shoved up on top of the counter to discover you’re radiating heat and slick — an especially stark reality as you press down onto the cool granite surface. inadvertently, you lean into him. a gurgled whimper escapes you. as if to exaggerate the sound, simon grabs the tip of your tongue and drags it out of your mouth.

it’s not at all necessary to brush your tongue the way he does. with as much aggression. your clit catches the mound in his boxers the same time the brush strokes the back of your throat, and a messy gag sends tributaries of watery toothpaste down your chin. you’re moaning like the whore he insists you are now; holding onto him like you were the one to stick out your tongue.

it doesn’t get easier to withstand the rough sweeps of the toothbrush, now clutched in a tense fist — you gag and spit and cry and make a mess all over, just like he said you would. but the cock humping into your similarly weeping pussy helps just a little bit. you must soak through the cotton of his underwear with how good it feels, grinding your hips up and down all over his length. the waistband rolls down with the motions, and you catch the gleam of your juices matting his happy trail in the low light. your eyes roll to the back of your head. you tuck your nails into the flesh of his forearm. he brushes your tongue until there’s more toothpaste running over your lips and down your neck than there is in your mouth.

you convulse in his arms until you’vs wrung the last dregs of your orgasm from your frame. simon hardly waits for you to finish, collecting your hair to pivot you over the sink basin.

spit. rinse out. he wipes the front of your mouth off with a towel, then runs a thumb over your canine to check if it squeaks. your lashes feel crusty with the dried remnants of your tears. it hardly matters when he bends down to tuck your face in his shoulder, lifting you off your feet. the bruising pinch he gives your ass meant to mean: we ain’t finished.

[thatsbelievable]

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[ventismacchiato]

hc post relationship swy scara releases a snippet of a song and everyone asks him to release the entire thing but it was a love song just for your ears so he never does

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

heartslabyul washroom

Yes, I am making a whole separate post for this—

WAHHHHHHH 😭 WhAt THE hECKIE, IT’S SO CUTE????????!??!?????????!!!!!???????

It seems the washroom was modeled after the scene where Alice meets the talking flowers. The curved ceiling being patterned like the sky, the floor resembling grass, and all the floral and foliage decorations really give the sense of being outdoors!! I especially love how the flowers are incorporated; they act as lamps (you can see that their centers are giving off light) as well as mirrors. The leafy wall in the back seems to be washing machines or dryers?? The whole washroom has such calming, relaxing vibes, and I bet it smells nice too :0

The jars underneath are also so interesting—they of course resemble the Drink Me bottles from Alice in Wonderland, but it seems they’re serving as sinks here. The mouth of the bottle is actually solid and forms a bowl, and it seems like water might flow from the silver leaves between the bowl and the mirror. I’m guessing that the bottles drain into whatever sewer system NRC has from there. Or maybe the liquids inside the jar-sinks is hand soap…? (But I like to headcanon thar the petals of some flowers are soap strips… You just rub your hands on them to get some.)

I want this washroom… Move over, Heartslabyul 😭 I’m about to camp out there every day and make your washroom my new home…

Edit: I don’t know why this post blew up, but I find it very funny that we’re scrutinizing and evaluating the washroom so hard 😂 Imagine the Heartslabyul boys staring at us as we examine the room all over to understand how tf this stuff functions…

[tanya-veldenmir]

The question is: who took this Polaroid pic?

I headcanon that Kipps has photography as a hobby.

I also headcanon that Lockwood stole his camera from time to time for a "very serious mission, life or death situation"

(it's a remake of my old acrylic micro-painting, I am finally happy with it)

[after-witch]

my desire to be kidnapped by a yandere who bathes me, brushes my teeth, and dresses me in my pajamas for me goes up 10000% whenever I have stuff to do after work and end up super tired