#what level of absolute madness is this

[carefulfears]

anything less than a love story

(k.wright judas / matthew 26:50 / the last temptation of christ / stephen adly guirgis the last days of judas iscariot / the x files the red and the black, existence, ascension, tunguska, the truth)

[strawberrystepmom]

if you're holding very rich, extremely sheltered people to the standards you live by in your life you're always gonna be disappointed and im sorry about that but we have to stop letting celebrities decide our morals and ethics for us. even the coolest, most down to earth famous person you love lives in a totally different world than you do and the issues that you face daily do not matter to them. it's cruel but it's true. stop putting your faith in rich people to do the right thing no matter how much you like them. you will always be disappointed.

[skitskatdacat63]

More matador!Fernando! Ferrari this time :D (I can't help myself.....)

- facial hair

+ closeups

I really wanted the vibe of this Nando pic, I think I did pretty well??

[holygroundgone]

just absolutely fucking obsessed with the 0.5 evil marriage bad end deep in love deep in suffering of it all, everything that could've possibly went wrong went wrong and they're in it together

[crownrots]

last night episode really got me thinking about elsa and rhaenys’ relationship, both when rhaela was alive and after she passed and rhaenys and corlys took her in (bc why wouldn’t they 🤡 … uncle daddy and auntie step mom). It’s such a tumultuous ride tho … rhaenys initially harboring ill will towards her because she’s technically corlys’ first born to being incredibly instrumental in raising her bc she KNEW her sister’s time with her was going to be short.

i ran out of tags to tag spoilers so: h*td spoilers dawgs for last nights hour of torture.

rhaenys, even if she didn’t show it as much, thought of Elsa as her own and Elsa, despite not showing it, always looked to her for the mother she was robbed of far too soon. The two argued like a parent and child might, the flew their dragons together, laughed and drank and mourned with one another.

But there was always a little sting, a little bit of resentment especially after Laena and Laenor passed, because while her only two children perished… Corlys’ child still lived and thrived and she always had to remind herself that Elsa wasn’t privy to her lineage. Only thought Corlys’ treated her as a daughter because that was expected of him as her aunt’s husband.

It’s not until everything is really laid out in the open that she’s able to let go of that little chip on her shoulder, to let it fall away so she can fully remember and realize the promise she had made to her sister on her death bed all those years ago; she has done far more for elsa than even SHE realized.

and then THIS happens … and the fact that they don’t even get to say goodbye. the fact that the last time they saw each other rhaenys was only catching a glimpse of her hauling ass north because something had gone amiss once jace departed from there. she never got to tell her just how much she loved her and loved raising her. that any anger or resentment or callousness she showed her at ANY point of her life had been ill placed and accidental. she never got to REALLY tell her how proud of her she was. how much of a privilege it had been to raise her up into the woman and mother she had become. she definitely does not see her late sister when she looks at her, but rather sees herself.

and when elsa returns, and in her grief goes to the alter by the tide pools that she’s visited far too often in her lifetime she absolutely loses it. while normally she’d have whittled a piece of wood to look like who she had lost, she stands there and just looks at the line of pieces that are already there; her mother, her grandmother, aemma, laena, laenor, viserys, luke, and her own son, rickon…she can’t put rhaneys there, she just can’t.

and in her grief and rage she destroys it, destroys the one place of peace she’s had all those years. destroys her once place of reflection and one place she could grieve uninterrupted. she rips the alter of driftwood and stone apart with her bare hands, knuckles bleeding.

it’s not a place of remembrance or reflection. it’s a glaring reminder of everything and everyone she’s lost. the empty spaces, a place holder for who might have an effigy placed there next; her husband, her daughters, her only remaining son, her nieces, her nephews, her queen and cousin, her father … the list goes on.

and all the while her dragon watches, feeling every ounce of her grief tenfold, and it’s unlike the kind she’s shared with her before. but when it’s all said am done, just like when elsa was fourteen and had lost her mother, frosteye lifts one opal wing, battle scars from them turning the tide in north still healing, and invites her under. and elsa accepts just as she did before, crawling beneath the wing, sand singing her split knuckles, drawing herself into a fetal position and weeping like a babe.

but she knows rhaenys isn’t coming to check on her like before. she knows frosteye won’t chortle and shift at the high valaryian spoken so softly and clearly to calm her upon approach.

she’s surrounded by so many, needed by so many. but she’s never felt so alone in rhaenys’ absence.

[autumn-applepie]

University ever pushes you so low you have to go buy a couple of beers? /srs/neg

I'm gonna vent in the tags for a moment humor me for once /gen

[elizabethrobertajones]

why do I not let them hang out more often honestly

[ashersbraincell]

Kinda crazy how, to them, it was a slip-up, a rant on a probably rough day at work. To me? It became a lifetime complex

[agnisleftpec]

yknow, i think a lot of my annoyance with anti-aang discourse is that a lot of criticisms seem to act like they're marks against aang's character writing specifically, as opposed to the approach of the narrative as whole, which aang is uniquely representative of by being the main character. it just feels like some people are frustrated at the show for being reserved in its exploration of certain aspects of war, and they take that out on aang.

[victorinoxghoul]

every day i resist sending all of my friends like 12 dms in 15 minutes

[constellationcrowned]

((I want everyone to keep something in mind in regards to this blog and this is going to sound like a general, common sense post (and in a way it is) but it's also hi I'm in your house, whispering into your ear, telling you to call ga//amestop and ask them if they have bat//tleto//ads---, blah blah, basically it's personal too:

With me, regardless of blog or content, both communication and engagement go hand in hand. Communication and engagement needs to go both ways.

I love posting and reblogging memes and calls and will continue to do so but you folks---old mutual or new mutual doesn't matter---need to take the initiative yourself sometimes too. Be enthusiastic. Be spontaneous. Be proactive. I don't want to ask people to write with me all of the damn time nor do I want to chase after people all of the time because if I have to do that constantly over and over again it starts feeling incredibly one sided even when it isn't (because ofc people have lives, specific interests, anxiety, and whatever else which are all things that I deal with myself and I understand how that can stop someone from doing something, but that's how it feels especially over an extended period of time) and I don't need to explain how disheartening and draining that can be.

My seeming to interact with only one person---and for both of my blogs it's @magioffire and we all know that---it's not because we're being stuck up, elitist or whatever inane and incorrect term people want to throw at our feet it's because we engage and communicate. The give and take between us (both from an ic and ooc standpoint) never feels imbalanced or even transactional (I really hate using that word but, again I gotta stress this, that's how this makes me feel) and I have never felt like I needed to chase them down for an interaction or had to fight for a scrap of their time---which feels like a feat bc Blair has a lot of people scrambling at their door---and I cannot tell you how huge that is. That sounds like a huge sweeping thing to say, I know, but I mean it in all of the little ways too. I could post some stupid bullshit on here; not a starter or a meme just a little random muse thought or observation, and 100% of the time here comes Blair telling me what they think or adding on to it or just...whatever. They're here for both me and my muses for the big and small things, whenever I've asked and, more often than not, when I haven't (or couldn't) and that's incredibly important. It's that kind of stuff that makes what we have special and that's putting it super lightly. And yes, our relationship both as friends and as writers has developed over a long time, and we did click immediately that's true, but there's never been any doubt to cast upon the work and effort both of us have put forth.

And this post isn't to say that I'm demanding constant or immediate attention from you all---because, again, we all have lives, health issues, etc, etc, and all of that takes precedence over a hobby as I've said before and will say again and again---but....put some effort into it when you have the capability. Yes, like the calls that I post or send a meme in, absolutely, but also message me on your own and ask a question or shoot a muse a random prompt or just @ me in a post. Show me some enthusiasm and engagement on your end because right now it feels like I'm doing all the work all of the time and that's tiring. I'm tired of handing stuff to people all of the time---I'll keep doing it, obviously, because I need and want to engage on my end and love throwing stuff at people and providing opportunities---all I'm asking for is understanding and reciprocation.

If you can't reciprocate for whatever reason? Tell me.

If you're unsure about something, no matter what that something is? Tell me.

If you need help or even a specific kind of accommodation in order for us to start interacting or continue interacting? Tell me.

Don't just assume that I don't want to write with you or that you can't ask me for things. Don't assume that I'm being a snob or whatever else just because I seem to be paying attention to a certain mun full time because do you know what that actually is? That's friendship. That's effort. That's me giving back what I've been given. That's me reciprocating the enthusiasm, love and creativity that I've been handed, nothing more. There's nothing unobtainable or gatekeep-y about that either, you just need to be earnest and forthcoming with me and I can assure you that I'll return the favor in kind.))

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[supercantaloupe]

roommate's pissed at me again. yay

[kn11ves]

first page of winnetou: every living thing deserves life aaand native people deserve to not die of and they are equal to white people aand they deserve patience and time to themselves and to governheemselves anddd leave em alone they dont did nothing we're judging them with out western white morals

german news: faaarking racist burn da books

[thrassisfras]

Fine, I'll write my essay about the Portrait of Madeleine. But I'm not happy about it.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.

You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.

“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.  

“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”

You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”

He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”

You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”

He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”

You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”

His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”

You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”

He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”

“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.

You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.

He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…” 

You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?

“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”

His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”

You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?

It’s not right.

“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”

Not your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”

Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.

“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”

He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.  

You love him, you realize then with a shudder.

You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.

“What do you say?” he asks in hope.

Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.

“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.” 

You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.

“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions. 

Don’t worry—he’s here to help.

“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite. 

“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”

You hang in his hold, leaning after it.

But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”

Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.

“Everywhere.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist