#this play is sooo good

[keep-calm-and-watch-spatort]

Planet B - Maxim Gorki Theater, Berlin trailer, teaser

[isaac--r]

Death by a thousand clones, unless you behave. Don't be a transphobe!

[atompalace-official]

Super Mario Wonder Girls! ⭐️🍄🧡💕✨

[bisclavaret]

📺💥💕💕

[panthermouthh]

“I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel.”

[star01007]

[feketeribizli]

ummm proper post of me alien au 😁 not much to elaborate on we are just having a bit of fun... (well not all of us. pray for lando lol)

[wicked-gharial]

lots* art dump

[gunstellations]

In the world I love

_

In a different world

[roxiusagi]

The strugglersss

[chrisrin]

fan-made all out attack screen based on akechi's new thief design from the fic marigolds by colbub!

[fumifooms]

Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

[pigswithwings]

GAKVU REACHES TOWARDS GOLEM

meme edit under the cut

[kacievvbbbb]

You know what? the best supernatural spin off would have nothing to do with the Winchesters and instead would be about Samuel motherfucking Colt because dude absolutely had something going on. And was tripping absolute balls all the fucking time

Dude not only builds a literal kills almost all gun (that no one knows how it works exactly), he also built a fucking devil’s gate and the series of railroad tracks that formed a giant devils trap in the middle of fucking nowhere Wyoming that was somehow also a great fucking hotspot to talk with Lucifer in the cage. Why the fuck would he build a devil’s gate and then the devil trap protecting it? Why could this dude not be normal? Not to mention He also fought a Phoenix!!! A Phoenix! The only Phoenix that has ever been reported to exist and whose ashes are the only thing that can kill the literal mother of all monsters. Which he somehow mails to Sam and Dean in the future using a phone from several years in the future that he literally just got earlier that afternoon.

Dude was on some serious shit. Man was definitely receiving the most violently random prophetic visions from god. Dude literally went, it came to me in a dream and built a weapon that’s literally still confounding people generations later and would function as a key to a fucking devils gate that would literally be the first step in so much shit going down in so little time generations later . Wouldn’t have even surprised me if they also said he was responsible for Ruby’s knife.

He also, most importantly, is from the wild wild fucking west!!! How cool would a show about that be? A fucking genius inventor hunts monsters in the Wild West while some being he knows nothing about but deeply suspects is giving him blueprints for big, wild things and weapons for how to stop them, or at least slow them down.

[iceman-soup]

amab masc!reader x switch!soap

Letting rottweiler!hybrid!Soap ride you as you do some paperwork. He's been following you around all day, even more touchy than usual: resting his chin on your shoulder whenever you're not moving; clinging onto your hand or arm constantly; crawling onto your lap and nuzzling his face into your cheek if you sit down. Pouting at you that he's hungry or cold - knowing that you'll give him a snack bar from your pocket and wrap him up in your jacket at his first complaint.

He follows you into your office, his hand clutching yours as he whines that he's bored, headbutting your bicep affectionately as if he were part-cat rather than part-dog. You turn to him, watching him kick the door shut then pulling him into a hug, lifting him up a couple centimetres off the ground to make him laugh, his tail wagging. Giving him a quick scratch behind the ears first, you pull his face to yours, kissing him tenderly, hands moving to cup his cheeks, your thumbs stroking against his stubble.

Feeling him kiss you back with much, much more intent than what you had initiated, his tongue prodding at your lips eagerly, little whimpers against your mouth prompting you to part them. Gentle kisses quickly turn into making out, Soap's fingers shaky as he tries to undo his belt, fiddling with it until you had enough and moved your hands from his face to swiftly do it yourself, unzipping his jeans and tugging them down his hips, breaking away from the kisses to help him out of them - and his boxers - fully. Your heart beats fast at seeing how hard he is already.

"Gotta do paperwork, love," you faux an innocent smile, pressing a tiny kiss to his cheek and leaving him standing in the middle of your office to go sit behind your desk, sliding a file to the centre of it and flipping to the page you need. Surprised to not hear a chorus of whines and incoherent protests, you glance back up at him - feeling your heart melt a little at the sorry sight in front of you.

He's standing there half-undressed, big, sad puppy eyes fixed on you with the most pitiful expression on his face you think you've ever seen. His tail is slightly tucked between his legs and his sweet floppy ears are slack. He lets out a soft, low mewl upon catching your gaze.

"Here, pup. Didn't mean to make you upset," you apologise, leaning back in your chair and patting your thigh, smiling gently at how his tail immediately starts wagging as he trots over, straddling your lap and nibbling at your earlobe adoringly. Your breath hitches as he starts to grind against you, letting out tiny, needy sobs, trying to free your own aching cock from your trousers.

Kissing his jaw tenderly, you take off your belt, then unbutton and unzip your own trousers, pulling them down only enough for your hard-on to poke out of the slit in your boxers. His tail wags eagerly, whacking against your knees a little, and you put your hands on his hips, guiding him to slowly sink down on your cock, both of you groaning at the feeling.

"That's it.. good boy, puppy," you murmur almost absentmindedly as he adjusts, his head falling to rest on your shoulder. You slide your hands up his body til they're resting under his t-shirt on his ribs, gently rubbing up and down to soothe him. "Stay quiet now, love, alright? Let me get on with these documents."

He nods, wrapping his arms around your neck and clinging to you, muttering out a "yes sir" and pressing small kisses to your skin. You reposition yourself so that you can see your desk again, one hand picking up a pen and the other resting on his clothed back, fingers curling to grasp his shirt when he starts to move. Muffled whimpers and moans seep into your neck from where his mouth is attached to it, sharp dog teeth nipping slightly to get you to buck your hips a little.

"Can't concentrate when you do that," you breathe out, eyes flickering as he sucks a hickey into your skin. He hums in response, moving faster on your cock, lips still latched to you. "Fuck- Soap, love-" voice becoming gruffer as you get close to your climax. Hands move to hold his shoulders so you can kiss him again.

"C'mon, sir-" he pants, and your eyes snap open before immediately rolling back as you cum, hips twitching upwards as you sigh out a moan. You can feel his tail bashing your legs as he rides you through your orgasm, then shakes and collapses onto you as he has his own.

After a moment, you crack open an eye, catching his as he looks up at you, still sitting on your cock, his head on your chest. "Been a while since you called me 'sir' during sex, puppy," you smirk, reaching a lazy hand up to pet his mohawk. He grins in response, reaching up to give your jaw an open-mouthed kiss.

"Aye, sir," he flirts, squeaking as he feels you start to harden inside of him again.

[sirfetchd]

my mom is a real kenmahead she took this picture in the theater with zero input from me