#what is last person’s name??

[syncogon]

i love how they went out of their way to censor this new character, as if we knew anything about the first two characters either

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Ghouls night out

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[aashiyancha]

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

It's been some beautiful spring days that made me think of the summer to come. So, I decided to give this game another whirl

Also peak summer moment. I wanted Jeremy to come back just so I could pour another cup on him.

[chandralia]

trying to casually explain katsuki’s devotion to izuku is impossible because why does it go from helping him train to RISKING HIS LIFE FOR HIM in a split second

[quiddlegoose]

I want to stay with them!

[ID: Trigun fanart of Vash, Milly, and Meryl all hugging and kissing a happy Wolfwood. Vash and Milly smile sweetly as they kiss Wolfwood's cheek and head, and Wolfwood's arms are around Vash and Meryl. The background is filled with soft green leaves and pink roses, and above the four is the quote "'In Eden, I'll live with him and the girls.'" End ID]

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz makes a deal with Desiree after finding her brother in their parent’s basement. And it’s not a pretty sight.

Her deal: Desiree gets a slightly longer leash (in a matter of speaking) as long as Danny and Jazz are safe. (Or something like that. Point is, she made a deal)

I wish this never happened and that Danny and I were safe somewhere else!

There’s a snap of fingers, a bright flash, then she’s outside in an unfamiliar city with sirens blaring and people wailing as a scarecrow runs by with some sort of gas, chased by someone dressed like Vlad adjacent except all black with a weird looking bat symbol on his chest.

Not normal, but also not the weirdest thing she’s seen.

But there’s no sign of Danny.

Desiree looks at Jazz and smiles bitterly, “I never said you’d be safe together.” And disappears.

Meanwhile, Danny wakes up screaming in an alley until he realizes he is not in pain and somehow has no wounds from their parents. His screams attract the attention of a man walking by, who comes to investigate, Danny decides to go invisible right in front of him which was dumb but he was injured just a couple seconds ago so cut him some slack. It really should have freaked the guy out, but he just has an astonished look on his face before also turning invisible.

Or: Jazz is sent to Gotham and Danny is sent to Coast City. Jazz becomes an unwilling part of scarecrow’s scheme (could be any villain) and is saved by a bat (any bat, although I prefer Red Hood or Robin) and Danny accidentally showed Martian Manhunter his powers.

Could work with Superman too in Metropolis. He could pick up a dumpster and throw it at Clark and Clark would calmly catch it while Danny is babbling/apologizing for getting scared and throwing something that could have killed the man, then slowly everything clicks and he disappears, leaving Clark Kent to investigate.

(Also background: Danny has just been told he will be the future Ghost King in this and Jazz was told by Clockwork that she would have a difficult decision and a difficult future in store but that it will be good for them and for the realms. Jazz doesn’t believe in fortune tellers, especially vague ones and says so to Clockwork’s face which cracks a smile. I’d personally write it as a Hardcover ship, but honestly if anyone wants to yoink this and do something else with it, I’d be okay with that too!)

[randomminty]

Five billion octopath 2 scribbles i feel sick

[334iwatchshit]

please remember that luke skywalker adopted rey and fin a few years after marrying din djarin and and opening his jedi school on mandalor with their green rat son.

[dinsbeskar]

Evil Will Find Her (Sauron/F!Reader)

He has waited so long to have you again, he cannot wait until you reunite in the flesh; or:

Sauron gets off on thinking of you thinking of him, despite the distance in time and space between you

Sequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Through Glass by Stone Sour, Closer by Nine Inch Nails

I'm looking at you through the glass Don't know how much time has passed Oh God, it feels like forever But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home Sitting all alone inside your head

Warnings: smut! goo!Sauron, male masturbation, mentions of oral sex (female receiving), finger/P in V sex, biting, kinda rough sex, praise kink and degradation (only a little, he calls you a slut, sorry, he is Sauron though, man idk), Sauron POV, he is super down bad and also recovering from being literal goo

A/N: I tried so hard not to use the word 'goo' lmfao, considering that's what Sauron is for half the fic! So this is the sequel to In the Dark of the Night, the scenes will mirror each other but not quite... you'll see.

Word Count: 2.8k!

After centuries in the caverns beneath Forodwaith, he had finally escaped. Not that he was any closer to reclaiming you, not in his current state, a seething mass of something dark and primordial, but he could at last seek you out. The only thing he knew was hunger, consuming everything in his path; the only discernable notion in his mind, clouded and murky, was to find you. He had only an inkling that some time had passed since you'd been in his arms, and even less of an idea of where you would be, but he was patient. He could wait, as he had waited many times before for you.

Creature after pathetic creature he gathered and consumed, slowly regaining shreds of his former self, piece by tiny piece, until he was able to drag himself, formless and near-liquid, across the frozen wastelands of the North. The only guiding light in his current unfeeling state was the vague grasping notion of you, waiting for him, yearning and enduring for him, and it pushed him on, gave him strength to endure when all hope was lost.

His mind reaches out for you, across plains and rivers, over mountains and into the halls you now call home. The first time he does this, he has not the strength to make himself known to you, and can only regard you from afar. It takes all of his efforts to merely behold you for a second before you vanish in his mind's eye. If he was capable of sound, all of Middle Earth would have heard his guttural scream of frustration. However, in his current form, he emitted barely a weak gasp masquerading as an exasperated sigh, before falling still and unmoving for at least a week, unable to drag himself any further after weakening himself for just a glance at you. It was worth it. When he awakens, he tries again, and again, the effort lessening every time, but it still feels like forever until he finally regains enough power to reach out and touch you, a tingle across your lips, a tendril of his will wrapping around you.

You're seemingly unaware of his presence, though you react to the stimuli he provides. Your thoughts turn more and more to him, even as you try to push them away, heart shattered after so much time apart, the heartache he caused you in simply being himself. The more you push them away, the more they come unbidden, in your dreams and waking thoughts, until you can no longer ignore them.

This makes it easier for him, you leaving the door ajar, to slither into your mind and wrap himself around your heart once more. You thought you had moved on from his betrayal, the knowledge of his true self having shattered your desire to have him close. Your need for him however was not so easily undone; no matter how much you told yourself you were better off free of him and his inevitable path of destruction, your souls were inextricably bound together, and no earthly power could sunder you. In his primordial oozing state, the terrible ache deep in your souls, yearning for the touch of the other, was all he could feel, and he neither knew nor cared from whom it originated. It was all he could do, limbless and liquid, to revel unthinking in this torment, to bask and rot in the empty void between you; for to suffer in your absence was sweeter than never having known you at all.

The only salve for your unceasing ache was his touch on your skin, his words in your ear, his fëa wrapped around yours as your fervent light battles with his blazing darkness. And you would have it. He swore to you eons ago that you would never be without him; you cursed him for that promise a thousand times, and yet the thought of his desertion was a knife between the ribs.

~

He awakes in a freezing wooden wagon, lying on his back surrounded by bloody detritus as the pale morning light greets his rebirth. For a moment, he has no idea where he is, who he is, or how he came to be here. It is only by looking around, as he takes in the visceral scene before him, that it all comes flooding back.

White hot pain in his shoulders, between his ribs, daggers twisting in his gut.

Darkness, pitch black nothingness.

Hunger.

Centuries of freezing cold, leagues of endless empty wasteland.

You.

He can't catch his breath as he remembers the last time he saw you, guilt flooding through him in nauseous waves, the cruel twisted things he had said to you and the malice you had thrown back in return. He can't even conjure his wrath, grateful that you had abandoned Forodwaith in your fit of temper when you had, lest you'd been caught up in the events of his coronation.

Coronation. He inhales harshly, revelling in the cold air in his sinuses; the tiny sensations for which he must be thankful, he thought bitterly.

Weak with the effort of reconstituting himself, he slowly pushes himself to sit, idly rifling through the possessions of the unfortunate peasant who had so graciously provided him with the sustenance he needed. He begins to root through the sacks and chests, looking for anything to protect himself from the persistent chill outside. He gathers some clothes from a sack in the corner, pulling on a cloak haphazardly; in doing so, he knocks a stack of letters that cascade across the floor. One catches his attention.

He skims the contents and realises it is an old love letter, the page discoloured and brittle with age. The scrawled, pretty words are trifles in comparison to everything you have shared, but the way it is signed lingers in his memory.

Forever devoted, your Halbrand.

He does need a name after all.

With a smirk, he tosses the letter aside and makes his way towards the sunlit back of the wagon. The moment his bare feet touch the ground, he can't help but grin with relief.

In fact, to say he is relieved is an understatement. He is a Maia, one of the greatest of all beings in creation, reduced to crawling in the dirt for centuries. To regain any kind of fair form is a blessing, and it is with appreciation now that he regards his limbs, feels the cold hard ground beneath his bare feet, and finds clarity in the brisk northerly wind on his face. His first thought, as ever, is of you. Where are you, are you well, are you thinking of him? He senses that you are leagues away, but senses you he does. Satisfaction takes him over and he laughs, uplifted now that he finally knows for sure that he is on your mind.

~

Day becomes night, and he eventually stops to rest, unused to needing to do so; he muses over his small fire how you'll greet him when he returns. How he longs for your sweet kisses, however they'll feel in this strange form. He clings to the memory of your breath on his face, your laugh in his ear, the scent of your sweat-slicked skin beneath his. His longing turns to rage before long; the time you both had lost would never be regained. Your long lives would give you every chance to do so, but he cherished whatever time he spent with you, and this wasted time would not be forgotten.

He would have his revenge on the Uruk who dared defy him, who must have assumed merely destroying his physical form would kill him. More's the pity, for Sauron's wrath was great and his will greater. It might take a hundred years or a thousand, but his revenge would be as sweet as the memories he had of you, of the time together that had been stolen from you.

Usually he has no need for sleep, but in dreams, he can join you, so he lays down on the frozen ground next to the dying embers of his fire and waits for you. It's not long before he finds himself in your chambers, breathing in your scent. He has been here before, tried to make contact with you, but in his weakened state he could do nothing but watch you, every night feeling like forever without your touch. Now he can make himself known, and he does just that.

You're lying on your bed, and he thinks to lie down next to you, as he has so many times before, and stroke your hair and tell you he'll be with you soon, that he is counting the seconds until you're in his arms again.

However you surprise him, as you often do, even after all this time. It's what he loves most about you.

You're clearly focused on something, brow furrowed, and before he can slip into your mind further, you cast off the sheets, and trail a hand down to between your thighs. He can't help but grin as he realises what he is witness to. You used to become so flustered when he asked you to do this for him, to touch yourself and think of him, and even now your cheeks are red. His previous attempts to touch you have been in vain, like catching smoke in the wind, the veil between you thwarting his every effort. He brushes a finger over your face adoringly and you sigh contentedly. Did you feel that? He wonders, because as happy as he is to watch you chase your pleasure, he would much rather join in.

Watching you sweat and pant his name always does something delicious to him, satisfying that dark ever-present urge to defile and corrupt you. Savouring every filthy noise he elicits from you, the whines in your throat, the wet sounds of his cock inside you, dragging over every sensitive inch of flesh until there is no thought in your head but of him and your lovemaking.

Your tiny whimpers become moans as he delves between your thighs, delighting in how wet you are. It used to fascinate him, when he first bedded you, just how needy and slick you would get, and he can't deny that fascination never faded. He can't get enough of the taste of you, would happily subsist on you for the rest of his days, and you would probably let him, given the unearthly sounds currently escaping your lips.

His attention wanders to his own pleasure as he realises he is so fucking hard, and he is leagues away from being able to fuck you until you can't stand the next day. He hasn't explored this new form yet, and briefly wonders if you would approve. The peasant who revived him was mortal, and so he seems to have taken the form of a mortal man; would that repulse or thrill you? If you knew it was him, you wouldn't care, he knows this, but he still wonders.

He pulls out his cock and regards it, not having paid it much attention until now. It looks like any other, perhaps thicker than his last, a little longer maybe, but he doesn’t have much with which to compare. You would be the ultimate judge in that regard, and the only one that matters. Most importantly, it feels just as good in his fist as he dreams of you, fingers inside your needy cunt as you moan his name. How long it has been since he heard it, his breath hitches and he strokes faster, keeping in time with the thrusts he makes into you, using all his regained powers to satisfy you like only he knows.

"Are you my good girl, love?" He moans out loud as he has so many times before, not expecting a response but-

"Yes, for you, only you..." You whimper, arching your back, reaching for his touch, and he melts, forehead pressed against yours as he moans your name into the dark. How fucking perfect you are, how eager you are to be his, so ready and willing to fuck the shadows for him.

How times had changed since you saw each other last. It thrilled him to know you still wanted him, needed him, had put any thought of abandoning him from your mind, had embraced him as your husband, your lover, your protector, of course you had, and he arched into his fist as you keened under his attentions, leagues away in your bed.

How could you think for a second that you were not his, wholly and completely? That he could not simply find and have his way with you whenever he cared to? You must know that he would rather be your undoing than let you leave him.

He wants only to ravage you, to pin you down and leave your skin painted with bruises, marking you as his, trails of purple and blue leading to your aching cunt. To possess you, body and soul, chained to him for all eternity.

He would build a temple to your flesh, no, of your flesh, and desecrate it with his seed, worship you as his equal, pray to you with tender kisses and the blood of your enemies, if only to feel your skin on his, your light on his face once more.

He wraps a hand around your throat and groans, running his thumb across your skin and collecting your sweat.

"So good for me, so needy, so fucking perfect, waiting for me to fill you over and over," he moans as he leans down, phantom tongue swiping your throat, the salt of your sweat inflaming his senses all the more.

He wants nothing more than to bury himself within you, to climb inside you and never leave, if that is what it would take to never be parted from you again. He wonders how much of him you could take before your screams of pleasure turn to pain.

You're both so lost in your lust, he has no idea if you're here with him or he's there with you, but he'll take it greedily and without question.

He bites the shell of your ear, nipping just hard enough that you react, hand flying to your face. He grabs it and kisses your palm, rutting into you like an animal.

"Always so good for me," he whispers in your ear, willing you to hear him more than ever, "look how you take my cock so well, the way you stretch around me, always such a good little slut for me."

You asked him once how he could worship and degrade you in a single breath; he'd told you they were the same thing.

Whether the timing of his words is a coincidence, he is unsure; you come hard, orgasm wracking your body while you moan and keen under his spectral touch.

Your walls tighten around him, you both hiss with pleasure, and he can't hold back any longer, pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. He lets loose a string of curses, spilling himself on his thighs, christening his new mortal form and gasping your name.

His tenuous link to your pleasure is broken, and he curses once more, wanting nothing more than to wrap himself around you, to fuck you through your orgasm until you're whining and overstimulated, too sensitive under his flaming touch.

~

There is no such thing as a chance meeting, every passing encounter preordained to fulfil a purpose, and he thanks the Valar every day that despite all he had suffered that they had put you in his path. Fate was no small thing and it had bound you all this time, unwavering in the face of defeat and suffering and war and Morgoth, all of which wanted to sunder you from him. It is with that thought that he presses on.

He meets a group of Men who are bound for a ship to take them across the sea for a new life. At first he wants nothing to do with it; he knows where he is going, finally going home, wherever you are. But the old man is insistent, that perhaps his path lays in the West.

There are no chance meetings. If the old man advises Numenor, then perhaps it is his destiny to seek the descendants of men who had destroyed his aspirations centuries ago; the long road of revenge will lead him back to you, of that he was certain.

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko looked up and locked eyes with his cousin, who was struck speechless. Then, ever so slowly, Lu Ten's lips twitched upwards. And then he smiled. And then he beamed. And then he nodded proudly once, just once, and vanished.

Lu Ten comes back in For the Spirits Chapter VII: Take Me South, only to leave Zuko with more questions than answers. Just how much is he truly aware of? When will he return? What is Zuko going to do now?

(What will the South bring?)

[chiropteracupola]

"Are you finished with my portrait yet? Show me!" "Cipacton, I can't draw you if you keep moving!"

[waitineedaname]

okay I've finished making my big spreadsheet of how mp100 characters refer to each other! some thoughts on this under the cut because it got long

the Kageyama brothers are very polite in how they refer to people. their parents must have really instilled etiquette into them bc no one else is as consistent about using polite honorifics/titles as they are. the only people Mob doesn't give an honorific/title are his brother and Dimple, and the only people Ritsu doesn't give an honorific are Dimple and Shou, who he just calls "Suzuki"

Reigen, on the other hand, is pretty inconsistent and casual with his use of honorifics. he says "Mob-kun" a couple times and "Ritsu-kun" once, but usually they're just Mob and Ritsu (or "Mob's brother" lmao). the only honorific he consistently uses is "Tome-chan"

it's infrequent, but both Reigen and Dimple refer to Mob as "my boy" at some point :') he's their boy!

Ritsu doesn't refer to the Awakening Lab kids at all until he asks their names after being kidnapped lmao the only exception is when he calls out to the older Shiratori brother after the younger one is taken away and he calls him "Shiratori-kun." considering the fact that after asking their names, he refers to both of them as Daichi-kun and Kaito-kun, I think there was absolutely a moment when everyone was freaking out about the Shiratori brothers where he was like "ohhhhh that's his name"

also he switches from "Onigawara-san" to "Onigawara-senpai" when he realizes he's friends with his brother lmao fakeass

even though Mob starts calling Teru "Hanazawa-kun" as soon as they exchange names, Teru doesn't give him the honorific until they decide to raid Claw together. I guess that's the point when he decides they're friendly enough for it? he calls Ritsu "brother-kun" as soon as he realizes they're related and never refers to him by his actual name

everyone calls Teru some variation on his nickname EXCEPT Mob and Dimple. Dimple actually only calls him "brat" and "that guy" for a while until he managed to track him down again during the alleyway incident, which I realized is because he was exorcised before learning Teru's name lskdjflkdsf from the Seventh Division arc onwards, he just calls him "Hanazawa"

I love that Dimple tries to refer to the brothers with cutesy nicknames and both of them are like "if you do that again I'm killing you all the way dead" and he's like "understood." and then refers to them by given name from then on lmao

Teru refers to Dimple as "Dimple-kun" and Tome calls him "Dimple-chan," both of which are SO funny to me because he's way older than them. rude as hell, this evil spirit deserves no respect

Shou doesn't use honorifics or titles for ANYONE. Ritsu is just Ritsu, the Ultimate 5 are all their last names, his dad is just Pops. he also exclusively refers to Mob as "Ritsu's brother" dkfjldskfj

Serizawa alternates between "Shigeo-kun" and "Kageyama-kun" with no real rhyme or reason to it. just seems to depend on his mood I guess

[cynical-canidae]

This is how the Torchbearer Clancy reunion went right guys

[royalarchivist]

Mariana: Pendejo, my English is bad, no–

Roier: [Lying] Tubbo, Mariana wants to talk with you in English because he wants to practice

Mariana: No, he's fcking me—

Hannah: LITERALLY???

Forgetting 1 word in a sentence can sometimes change its entire meaning (poor Mariana 🥲)

[starlight-eclipsed]

“That doesn’t really answer either of those questions,” Dark points out, tentatively sitting down next to his weird wild friend. He folds his legs under himself, safely not hanging over the abyss.

Something for the latest chapter of A Dark Among the Lights by LuckyLectio on AO3! Dark finally gets a well deserved break, visits a new old friend, and tries to get spoilers for the ending of the fic.

Oh, and here's a link to the post where I tried to find an island in totk that could fit the one described in the fic.

[alwayshere195]

I wish we got Diego and Five in the timeline subway instead of Lila and Five. The deep desire for us getting the same premise but with a different execution.

Imagine Diego going and asking why Five can't blink only to end up in the subway with him. Five reluctantly, explaining everything he knows. Something Diego isn't fully comprehending but understands.

The silly idea of Diego coming up with the timeline travel and getting stuck in the subway with Five. The possibilities of their interactions.

The idea of Apocalypse Five shooting at them, causing Diego to ask who's that. "Me, of course, who else was in the apocalypses?!" Five responds, heading back down into the subway. Diego follows, "Well, sorrrry! I thought you had better aim than that!" Five shoots him a look.

The idea of when they realized they're trapped, we hear dialog. Diego shouting that this is EXACTLY what Five wanted. Klaus was right! He is a chaos junkie!

Five, throwing his hands up: I don't know why everyone says that! I'm not. This isn't what I wanted.

Diego: You appear in your element!

Five: Of course I do! This is all I know, Diego! I got stuck in an apocalypse at 13! 13! I was trapped for 45 years in it! Besides living in it, need I remind that I witnessed it again and again and again?! But that doesn't mean I want it!

Diego: Then what do you want? Because (mocking) Need I remind, you went off to join the CIA. You barely kept in contact for the past 6 years. You-

Five: I want peace! I want silence! I want to not worry about you idiots! I want... Forget it. Let's keep looking to get out of here.

How it finally pushes these two to talk. Their relationship has been rocky but there's always trust between them. Plus, Five doesn't really open up. So for the day to come where Diego once again pushes Fives buttons but the correct ones this time to get a

Five: I'm tired, ok? I have seen you all die again and again and again. I'm tired. I tried time traveling, I tried talking, I tried murder, I've tried, and it all keeps going to hell. There's only so much before it feels impossible or that I'm the problem. Sure, Viktor caused the first three apocalypse but not those after that. Not all this (refering to the subway). Only I could come here...

Diego, sighing after hearing all this for the first time: Yeah, you are a problem. A problematic piece of shit like the rest of us. And for holding all this in like a secret to take to the grave. But you're not to blame for everything. If anyone's to blame, it's Dad.

How they grow closer and Diego realizes just how tired Five is. He's exhausted and barely holding on. It doesn't help that no one in the family ever truly thanked him. So he does. Gives Five a genuine "Thanks by the way. For spending 45 years and some figuring out how to save us. I appreciate it. I like being alive." And how Five gets quiet as thats all he ever truly wanted. A thank you.

How Diego opens up about his relationship issues and how his rants turn into frustration about it all. Him voicing how he'd LOVE "bookclub" because FUCK MAN he needs a "bookclub" too! He'd be in full support! And he wished she was more vocal about things like he is instead of playing the guessing game. And how it turns into all the things he wants to do when he sees her again. Tell her everything. Open up. Hold her. Kiss her. Be in the same love he always really had for her. Fives there supporting him.

Five finds the journal and ponders it. Keeps the information hidden from Diego for a day or two before he's caught reading it. Diego's rightfully upset but Five brings up points.

Five: I was reading it. Making sure I understood what to do before we had a talk.

Diego: A talk? What is there to talk about?

Five: What if it went to shit out there and everyone's died? What if-

Diego: No, Five. There is no ifs here. We're going back and we're going to see how things are. Worst case scenario, we go back in time and save their lousy asses. Together. Best case scenario, we see our family again. I get to see Lila and my kids again.

Five: Right...

They go back and they find out that Luther and Lila ended up going to the CIA because "My husband always talks about this place, and my brother-in-law works here. So maybe there's information." And it makes Diego's hesrt flutter.

Just... what we could have had.