#and that’s all i’ve ever wanted

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Mikes and Vanessas celebrate 10 years of FNAF!

[magic-owl]

I don’t believe in gatekeeping at all but if you flat out admit to me that you’ve consumed little to ZERO of the canon media and have gotten all of your information based off of reading fluffy fic with woobified characters, I will not be taking ANY of your fandom opinions or meta seriously

[saintaviator]

4 YEARS!! 🧪✨🫧☀️🌈🔥‼️

[milf-propaganda]

if you’re a pillow princess and feel guilty for not being “active” in bed—i pinky promise, there’s people out there drooling over you. all they can think about is your legs wrapped around their waist. your nails scratching down their back while you moan into the kiss. feeling you tighten up before each climax then going limp around their fingers.

i promise, you’re not gonna be doomed or cursed, because you have firm boundaries. boundaries are beautiful and important. your boundaries matter.

[chiliger]

Cody - Kote - Glory

For Cody Day 2/2/24

(Closeups under the cut)

[wizard-legs]

WAKE UP BABE new big top burger just dropped 🤡🤡🤡

[kristiliqua]

CHUNSIK MY BELOVEDDDDDD

[rithmeres]

bait / hook / line / sinker

[viviaj]

a man who just wants you and needs you and would do anything for you (gone sexual)

// this is a self-insert.. it can be abt anyone u want ;3 !! but if u need some help: atsumu, kaeya, zoro, wriothesely, shoyo.. literally anyone that’s funny but also ;) KUROO

he’s been making you laugh all night. lighthearted conversation not slowing down, and countless attempts at getting you to roll your eyes at him. he looks good, too, like, casual good. black sweats and freshly washed hair.

he’s sitting on your bed, feet flat on the floor looking up at you as you go about your business. he’s a strange guy, he says something unfunny, yet its hard to not laugh. its cringey and genuinely stupid, yet comforting all the same.

you’ve been parading some new clothes on for yourself, styling pieces for him to nod and approve at. the way you move around is everything to him. he could just watch you, permanently. he wouldn’t need his phone, or a book or a computer. just you.

and that has him hard in his pants. just watching you do your thing, your glow from previously being out, with friends and at the shops— it didn’t matter.

“hey,”

“yeah?” you cheerily turn toward him, eager to keep conversation alive.

“come here,” his smile has you complicit, walking over to him, “wanna sit?”

you look down.

eyes fluttering between how hard he is and his eyes— at how fast this all changed. he’s so pretty and you just want to nod and nod and nod to him, that you’d do anything with him.

“yes, i do. yeah, okay. i don’t wanna hurt you, though, so—”

“here,” he interrupts you, guiding your hips down, “yeah, just like that,” the genuine smile on his face gives you courage.

neither of you dare to move once you’re fully sat, no one shifting or grinding, just resting on each other.

“do you feel what you do to me?” he almost laughs in exasperation. everything he says is so genuine, “i’m hard just thinking about you.” the honesty hurts.

the man underneath you is everything. he’s so sincere now that he’s not trying to make you laugh, not trying to make you roll your eyes at the stupid things he says. he doesn’t have to work for your attention.

“can i move?” you whisper, his cock so painfully there. your eyes don’t move from his.

“yeah, just— shit,” he hisses, “fuck. slowly. just rock back and forth a little.”

and it’s so easy. it’s so easy and he’s looking right at you and he’s telling you how good it feels, and god, don’t you know how long he’s wanted this for?

“is this okay? i mean, does it feel good? am i doing—”

“perfect,” he reaches a hand up to the back of your head, “it’s perfect.” his large hand pulls your head down to his, face to face with what you’re doing, who you’re doing.

he looks down at your lips, breaking the unbreakable eye contact you’d had so far, and presses his lips against yours. your hips stutter here and there, unused to the motion, but desperate to keep it there.

“let me take care of you.”

you nod.

his hands are polite on your hips, firm in how he handles you. he slides himself to the head of the bed, patting right between his open legs.

“saved you a spot,” he grins. and you remember this is the same man from an hour ago. you roll your eyes, yet sit right there, your back pressed to his chest, “this okay?” he says with his hands so close to your waistband. you nod again.

“you’re very compliant with me.” he says, and there’s nothing— no words, that could justify that. because he’s right, “i almost expected you to laugh at me more.” his slender fingers dip beneath your clothes, and he’s kind of an asshole, but he’s touching you so nicely.

“oh,” you grab onto his wrist, “feels good,” he nods against your skin.

his other hand just wants to feel you. the outside of your neck, the crease in your elbow. the curve of your ear, the shape of your breasts.

it’s obsessive.

your head drops onto his shoulder, your eyes turning to meet his and you realise he’s been looking at you this whole time. you avert your eyes, a slight red brushing your cheeks.

he’s still looking at you with a slight smile on his face. “you shy?”

“a little,” you reply for integrity’s sake.

he absolutely beams.

all the while you can feel him right against your back. he’s right there. just playing with you, hooked on every whimper and moan and twitch he can get from you.

“i’ve been waiting so long for you, you have no idea.” his sincerity is overwhelming and so are his fingers.

you nod. because that’s all you can do. “another, another. please.” you pant towards him.

“another what? tell me what you want.” he’s smiling, you can feel it.

“finger. please. can i, please?” oh, he melts. your voice softening for him and your body tense against his cock, he feels like he’s going to cum in his pants. he might.

“of course. whatever you want.” his free hand glides against your jaw, fingers grazing the side of your neck. he needs to kiss it, and bite it and leave something there. maybe as proof that this is real, that he has you how he wants you. feeling good.

so he does, he laps at your neck slowly. his fingers don’t stop fingering you, but he raises his thumb to rub at you. and that has you really going. twitching back into him, jumpy moans and sweet noises coming from you, uncontrollably it seems. your hand goes to cover your mouth.

“don’t ruin a good thing, baby. move your hand. let me hear you.”

“it’s embarrassing,” you stutter out.

he grins again, teeth grazing your neck. “i know. it’s okay.”

and it’s when you cum, with hips bucking and hand gripped onto his wrist, that he doesn’t stop.

tears well up in your eyes, “i came. i came, i came,” you chant, maybe he didn’t notice, maybe he didn’t realise.

“i know.” there’s no emotion in his voice, he’s so concentrated, so invested in what he can get out of you. what sounds, what actions, the way you move. it’s like he’s on a timer, he only has so much of it with you and he needs to milk it to its fullest.

“it’s sensitive, please. it’s too much,” tears well up in your eyes.

“you gonna cry?”

you nod against him.

“i’m sorry,” he presses his lips to where he’s bitten your neck, “brave girl. tough it out.”

what he says leaves you with no choice. something clicks in your head and you nod over and over again.

you whine and cry, blubbering words and sentences that don’t make sense. sensing that you’re going to cum again, you push against his fingers.

“don’t. stay still.”

“i can’t,” you whine, “i can’t again.”

“you can.” he smiles. he smiles and smiles and all you can do is twitch and cry out.

and when you cum for him again, pleasure overwhelming every part of you, he flips you onto your back, strong hands gently laying you back.

“my turn,” his grin melts as he presses the head of his cock into you. he preens at the feeling of you hugging him, “oh fuck. feels perfect. you’re perfect.”

your eyes scrunch closed, blubbering like someone who’s forgotten speech.

he’s sliding in and out of you, wanting to feel every single centimetre of himself in you. it’s heaven and he can’t believe that this will have to end.

your head starts to hit the soft headboard, tears still pilled up from the overstimulation on your body.

and then it just stops. he pulls out of you.

“back to you baby,” his hands slide against you once more, and you know it’s going to end with you sobbing against him.

a fun night.

[taintandviolent]

I’m still here by the way, I haven’t fucking left

[billcyphersballsack]

I think the big reason all ghost trick fans are extremely vocal shills for their funny ghost game and none of them can be casual about it is that we all wanna talk openly about the singlet greatest point in the game, the big twist and how it plays into a grater narrative about fate and love and the lengths you would go to save a person, the lengths you’d go to mend your guilt.

All of that mushy stuff that makes the game incredible rides on the single greatest revel in game history, a reveal so incredible that trying to describe it in any way would make it loose all impact and meaning and so the only way to really get ghost trick is to. Play ghost trick. We all wanna be so autistic about the banana man and his unending quest to save his chicken friend from walking off a ledge but we can’t do that until everyone plays the game so we don’t ruin it for people.

Anyway play ghost trick there’s a dog and he talks what more do you need to here

[halflifebutawesome]

MAY 16, 200-

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

a good animated show must have at least 4 of the following:

- gay

- existentialism/nihilism

- morally grey lead characters

- horrendously depressing themes/messages

- psychedelic weird shit that highlights the absurdity of life

i don’t make the rules (i do make the rules pls recommend me shows—i’ll put the ones i’ve watched in the tags, feel free to add any you think of)

[starryemeralds]

ad astra per aspera 🌠

[Image description: it is dusk, and Mabel and Ford from Gravity Falls are wearing witch hats and hanging by Bill’s statue in the woods. While holding a puppet of Stanley, she does an impromptu eulogy for Bill, dramatically saying, “Goodbye Cipher, you are dead. Blown up in my Grunkle’s head. Too much power hurt your soul. Reincarnate as a vole. Amen.” Ford laughs in response. End ID.]

here is a textless version:

and the pages this is based on!

[mickules]

Are you gonna tell me

I fully failed to queue all those artfight posts?

So I’ve just been SILENT for like a whole month again???

ouuughhh I'm perfectly normal about this.

[superbat-lmao]

Something that I relate to Jason Todd about is the alienation from your family that happens when you go through something traumatic.

I have had family members that try and bring up the cute kid I was and reminisce about a child that I am no longer able to feel connected to because of specific traumas. And I think Jason has a similar go of it in fanon.

The idea that who Bruce, Dick, and the rest of the family miss is the cute kid who used to be Robin and liked reading and was excited for school? Yeah, and that’s not who he is anymore. The memories of being that kid physically hurt, because you can’t separate out the fact that you were innocent from what happened to you. You already know the end to the story, and it’s not good.

You can’t go back to your innocence and you have to live with whatever messy and terrible things you’ve done to cope with the fact that you couldn’t handle your trauma in the way people wanted you to. It fucks you up and it feels like you’re two different people: that kid who could have done great things, and the person you are now that is stuck with all of the things you’ve done wrong.

Jason not wanting to see his family or having true difficulty reconciling with his family is on par with the glass case, the evidence that who his family wants back isn’t the person he became and is, but the kid he was. And no one is happy with the fact that he “isn’t the same kid that was lost”.

He’s changed in ways that aren’t all good, and that’s a hard pill to swallow.

I can’t imagine being Bruce or Dick or Alfred or Barbra and remembering the cute kid who thought Robin was magic. Of missing who you were before that kid died and the way it changed you as a person. Of wanting that kid back and also wanting what felt like yourself back.

Because it’s not just Jason’s grief that they have to contend with, it’s their own loss of themselves. Bruce is not the same father he was before he lost Jason and there’s no getting that man back. There’s no green light that he’ll be able to reach that undoes the past and restores his son to who he wanted him to be and himself to who he wishes he was.

I can’t imagine trying to rebuild that bridge when both people on either side are veritable strangers and looking for someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

Also, the tendency for fanon to have Jason “fall back into Robin training” is doubly painful. Because he can’t go back to being Robin. So anything that he does that is reminiscent of that kid, either in how he handles victims, or inside jokes with his family, or grumbling about current interests is going to look like maybe that kid still exists somewhere in Jason. That Jason is just lost or that something can be done in order to bring that kid out in certain circumstances when the truth is that it’s part of who he is, but it’s no longer the controlling part of his personality and it can’t be, because that kid wasn’t equipped to deal with what adult Jason has to deal with.

Being continually compared to a dead kid has got to suck worse than an older sibling standard. Especially when you never wanted to become what you are in the first place.