#till took me the fuck out

[marimayscarlett]

Some work better as holy men than others.

Schneider? 100% Forgive me father for I have sinned. On my knees!! ...to pray of course.

Ollie? Monk. Unbreakable. Will give you a look across the room that'll make you doubt but you won't be able to corrupt him.

Flake? He knows about your sins before you even sinned! Intimidating af.

Till? Some mid life crisis bs. May or may not quit next week.

Paul? Got lost on the way to the costume party, and now it's too awkward to leave.

Richard? Slut. Exudes and leaks slut energy. Forces you on your knees and not for praying.

This is perfect and on point, I have nothing to add and let this masterpiece speak for itself 🫶🏼

Happy birthday Rosenrot mv, the music video which gave this fandom a collective priest kink🌹❤️

[iceagebaby]

Despondency / Refuge

that's supposed to be Bennys lighter, the Courier is dealing with cosequences of being thrown into a mess they had nothing to do with

the halo was something that turned out on an accident but i love it

Rant below

[cafecitoeddie]

y'all wanna be stupid. okay. i'll play along.

ryan says, word for word, transcribed directly from the interview (AFTER BEING ASKED ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF A STORYLINE INVOLVING BUCK/EDDIE IN THE FUTURE):

"yeah, you know, like i said it's gotta live in the truth. and i think right now, we live in a moment to moment-- or me, i live moment to moment so the--

i love the fact that the biggest story plot point, between these two characters is, one who happens to be bi, one who happens to be hetero, and they have this vulnerability towards each other and that is the truth to me.

the fact that you have such a safe space and it doesn't matter your sexuality, that you have such a safe space to talk to this individual and they fully accept you. if we can stay with that, then whatever happens, happens. but i don't necessarily want to push the fact that because you're vulnerable you have to be one way or another in your sexuality. that, i would hate to, you know, have a lot of other men who are struggling mentally and-- and uhm, not sure about "oh, do i even open up? will that make me something that i'm not?" i would hate to push that narrative.

if we live in the truth, whatever happens, happens. and again, i'm here for it all."

--

nobody is picking and choosing what to focus on from ryan's answer. nobody is putting on their "delulu buddie deranged BoB biphobic/homophobic glasses!~"

we are extending the very same grace to ryan guzman as oliver stark is extended every single interview he has ever given.

we respect ryan guzman. we respect his thoughts on the character he is portraying and there's a reason why tommy didario chose to ask about the fact that A LOT of people thought it was going to be eddie to come out before buck. the breadcrumbs have been there for several seasons now and it certainly doesn't take shipping buddie to see it.

up until episode 7x04, for all intents and purposes, evan buckley was a heterosexual man. (the comments regarding his sexuality were and still are extremely nasty and gross, don't misunderstand me.) however, nowhere was there an interview prior to this season that discussed evan buckley's sexuality, by either oliver or anyone in the crew. (PLEASE CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG I WILL HAPPILY ADJUST MY STANCE~)

to all of a sudden focus solely on the fact that ryan has called eddie diaz a heterosexual man multiple times says so much more about you, then it does about him.

if we can all look back on evan buckley's history and accept oliver stark speaking on his queer undertones and how he chose to protray him AFTER THE FACT, then why can we not do the same for ryan guzman? he can call eddie diaz a heterosexual man till he turns blue in the face. why? BECAUSE HE IS SPEAKING THE TRUTH. why? because at this present point in time and space THAT IS HIS TRUTH, RIGHT NOW.

[knifefightandchill]

RESIDENT EVIL 2 (2019)

↳ current playthrough gifs; 1/??

[winpocalypse]

alphas endverse dean and 2009 dean fighting over omega sam who is in heat <3

first time writing omegaverse let's go on AO3

It gnaws him from the inside. 

The need.

The all consuming fever doesn’t feel like burning at all. Not since the demon blood, no. It feels like being eaten alive. One piece at a time. 

Sharp. 

Moving. 

The only way for it to go away is to be filled in all the empty spaces opening it up inside him. To be redecorated with something. With someone. Someone akin. 

That presents a problem when there’s two of them. Dean, well��� Dean was never one to share. Certainly not Sam, certainly not now. Not even with a look alike, or some version of himself, no way, the dominance runs so deep. 

The noises are so loud — the glass breaking, the punches, his own voice whining in his head — that Sam can only roll on himself and close his eyes, so the overstimulation doesn’t drive him completely mad before the gnawing does. It won’t kill him, heats are not merciful that way. They just take the most basic feature of his nature and twist it into the most sure way to get him filled. 

So it turns his guilt into begging. 

He does it, loudly, amongst all the banging and the grunting in this small cabin at the end of the world, and his ears register the noise as all the same person, animalistic as they are, and the smell as one unit only— Dean. It all boils down to his big brother, his kin. He’ll take how many of him there are, if he could only tell them so.

The next bang Sam hears comes from very near, and he finally opens his eyes against the sweat, lifting his head from the floor. With a sore throat and dry mouth, he tries wetting his lips, and turns to the side where Dean has his cheek pressed against the wooden floor, eyes burning with rage, forehead and lips leaking red. His bulkier version, also bleeding, also pissed off, pins him down, and their eyes search for Sam’s. They look like they’re crawling their way to him, and he just wishes they could stop getting in each other's way. 

He reaches out. Please, please, please. Hurry. I can take it. C’mon.

He receives his answer shortly. 

It comes shoving him down, turning him on his stomach. At first, it’s rough just like he needs it, fast and unwavering. Inside, the relief melts all the discomfort, it feels like being stitched together in the best way. The bite is punishing and somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks he should have exhausted his voice already, but he hears it pleading still. The smell, his brother’s smell, surrounders him, almost suffocating, but it’s over before he can choke on it. 

It's not enough. It's not nearly enough.

The weight on top of him doubles, just for a second, then it's gone… A moment of stillness. Sam rests his face between his arms drowning in his own scorching breaths, the emptiness depriving him of any attempt at lucidity, and soon he’s lifting his hips, offering himself up. 

When Dean’s hands find him again, it’s wet and hot like whatever spilled at the back of his thighs just now.

Sam finds himself on his back this time, and he’s engulfed in his brother so much more now, where Dean combs his hair with his fingers, kisses his eyes, clears the sweat from his forehead, and tends to his hard on. Dean's hand is sticky now, painted red, and he covers Sam with it, but it's all just him, Sam can smell it, so he breathes it in, licks it off, as Dean fills up all those missing pieces. 

This time it feels like an apology after a fight. Like a gentle kiss on a bruised knee. He's not being stitched together so much as being mended carefully. Sam takes it, either way. He takes it beautifully, is what Dean whispers to him. He whispers all sorts of things, rocking in slow, like he’s tending to Sam’s nightmares, singing him a lullaby. 

You’re doing so good, Sammy. That’s it. You really were made for me. 

It makes Sam’s toes curl and he grabs every little piece of Dean he can, bringing him closer, if that's even possible. And this bite, it doesn't feel punishing, no, it feels like the bite of a mother carrying her pup back to the den.

It feels safe. 

[darewolfcreates]

lost wax casting

Behold the sweatshop

[communistfries]

I'm about to be a million times more annoying on here are you guys mcfreakin ready

[lampadions-pickle]

I told Father that I love him, genuinely. Set called me his Child, offered me divinity in whatever small way he can offer it. I declined. He raised an eyebrow, the usual with him. Said my rejection of Him makes him even more curious, I told him in response that I'm just a guy.

[ghostofasecretary]

it's been a while since i've cried hard enough to have a headache but. sure got there today, babes!

[jacqcrisis]

The impromptu (but necessary) fight with the monster hunter Gandrel went... we'll say poorly for Astarion. Ronan's blessing on them could only help so much and as the hunter focused him down with a barrage of burning crossbolts, it was easy to start making mistakes. The thought of killing the man with his teeth was too poetic to deny, but ended with a bolt to his stomach and his knees meeting the ground with the rest of him swift to follow.

Six seconds of panic. Of pain. Of being assured he'd met his end, his flesh burnt and the bolt in his stomach twisted and deep.

But there it was. A rapturous feeling. A holy light lifting him from edge when it should have been shoving him down, and through the smoke, Astarion met Ronan's burning eye as he healed him with a prayer and a snarl before a morning star to the temple sent the hunter to the ground instead.

He struggled to stand until there was a clawed hand around his arm, pulling him up, patting out whatever was still burning on him. A potion thrust in his hand. An order growled out to the other two they'll be making camp early tonight, followed by a flurry of activity he scant remembers much of besides holding the thing in him still.

The first step is taking out the bolt before the sun is set and a fire is built. He assures Ronan he's been through worse, tells him about it, about who no doubt sent the hunter as the cleric still works efficiently and lays him down. Carefully takes off his burnt armor and clothes for Gale to mend with his magic.

It'd be intimate in any other setting, but prodding claws dipping into the wound to find the barbs of the bolt make it anything but. And when it's time to pull it out, Ronan prepares him, talks him through what will happen, offers to hold his hand.

"You know, despite the face, your bedside manner is impeccable." He teases breathily, looking anywhere but the fist the size of his head grasping the shaft sticking out of him.

It earns him something approximating a grin before the bolt is pulled free in a single motion, a rough palm on his chest keeping him from curling in on himself from the pain. It is tossed elsewhere, Ronan's free hand slapped over the hole in him with another prayer that fills his lungs with air and numbs the hurt, expediting the healing that will happen after he's gotten something to eat.

When he's caught his breath and Ronan has taken his hand away, he sits Astarion up, inspecting smaller wounds. The burns, the cuts, the splinters of wood from the shattered bolts lodged in his skin. With his claws and some tweezers, he pulls them out, inspecting anything bleeding with a practiced eye.

"You don't have to do that, really-"

"Heals better." He says gruffly, brushing him off, contrasting the care with which he extracts another splinter and the gentle way he holds onto Astarion's arm. "You wouldn't want anything stuck in you."

He changes the subject, asks further about Cazador to keep him busy. And busy it does, like a poison being expelled from him. Even the small amount he relays is enough for a different kind of relief, one that's compounded as Ronan assures Astarion he'll watch his back should anyone else sent their way.

Once he's satisfied, Ronan sits back, goes for his bag for any kind of burn relief but Astarion stays him. Assures him he'll be fine after he gets something to eat, shockingly prompting Ronan to ask if he needs help. He points out he's still weak, staring pointedly as Astarion struggles to stay sitting upright, the muscles in his abdomen still freshly mended.

"There is, ah, one way you could help." Astarion says, "A little top up couldn't hurt. I wouldn't take much. Just enough to...speed things along."

He gives Astarion long stare, and for a moment he assumes it'll be another no until there's a clink as he undoes the leather at his wrist, presenting it to Astarion without a word. Doesn't flinch or look away as he bites through the delicate scales found there. Astarion can feel his pulse on his tongue, beating rapid as he watches his blood be taken.

Perhaps he isn't the only one enjoying the moment.

When Ronan pulls away, he is quick to stay the bleeding with a prayer, but Astarion is quicker to snatch his arm back. Lap up whats left and confirm what he's suspecting at the flare of nostrils and the fiery pupils dilating at the sight. He's not as indecipherable as first appears.

"You were going to wipe it away anyways. Why let a good thing go to waste?"

There's that rumbling hum again, a sound he's finding to mean the man is pleased by something. Ronan still stands though, tells him to rest a little more before he goes off hunting. Says he'll keep an eye out for his return.

Astarion watches him leave, lumbering toward Lae'zel to see over her burns and no doubt be told off for the recklessness that got them here. There's still pain, but it's waning under the prayers and the blood on his tongue. He'll get up in a moment, content to lay here, this modicum of safety one to enjoy.

[gu6chan]

ouaaaaaghhh i've been on a bit of a pokemon binge lately......... i should crack open my old pokemon games and take a peek at my teams :,) i wish i still had my old copy of conquest and black 2 though............ :(

[steaksex]

Today sucked ass and penis. Clearly the healthy thing ti do is repeat my self hypnosis trigger until i dont need to worry about having a brain or being a person

[penisbutterjellytime]

Became disappointed I wasn't living up to butch standards by always having a tool / swiss army knife / screwdriver within the vicinity but made up for it for it by fixing it with a butter knife

gender dysphoria swiftly kicked by my innovative-ness

[whogirl42]

So I like... I really don't know how I feel about the whole bi-regeneration thing.

Something that sours it for me is like... I was so upset that we were only gonna get the 3 eps with 14 and Donna - ideally for me we would have had a whole season or even a half-season to do them justice. It made me sad that I'd have to say goodbye to them so soon. Tho I did take comfort in that there'd basically be an open invitation for Donna cameos in the future, in a similar way to the Kate Stewart and Unit ones.

HOWEVER. Now??? As much as I fucking adore Donna and David Tennant as the Doctor... I kinda never wanna see them on screen again??? Cause I feel like it sorta cheapens the concept of the 15th Doctor and all the other future adventures he'll have. It was one thing with Tentoo cause he was banished to another universe and was limited to a mortal's lifespan. But having two fully fledged Doctors??? Both with Tardises??? In the same universe???

It doesn't just cheapen the 15 Doctor and all future Doctors, imo it also cheapens David Tennant himself. Because there's a bittersweet beauty in letting go. In saying goodbye. Of accepting the next phase in life. The bi-regeneration doesn't do that. There's no closure. There's no faint loss accompanying the joyous rebirth. It's just.

It just feels very emotionally hollow.

[macncheesenibblers]

Hi guys I think I had/have serotonin syndrome today and yesterday. Started a new drug for el fibro

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

hey i don’t want to have depression anymore how do i delete it? /j