#anyway couldn't get this out of my head

[wizardsparamour]

[haunted-pool-noodle]

euclydia was destroyed, what, a few trillion years ago? we can joke about it by now, right?

(audio is of course from john mulaney's "The One Thing You Can't Replace")

[Video description:

Bill Cipher is shown, heavily zoomed in so that only the top half of his eye is visible.

The speaker in the audio says, "And I had that thought, that only blackout drunks, and Steve Urkel, can have." The audience laughs.

It zooms out to show that Bill is floating in front of the remains of Euclydia, the rest of his body covered in blood.

"Did-" The speaker is cut off as the audience continues to laugh and clap.

Bill looks at his blood-covered hands, then turns to look behind him. He glances back at himself, and jumps back as he notices the blood all over him.

"Did I do that?"

It zooms in on Bill's haunted expression, sharply contrasted by the humorous tone of the words. End description]

[benevolenterrancy]

May your hardened heart be woken By the soft and distant song Of all you left here unspoken All the shards we keep stepping on - Take this body home Take this body home Call the wind, and let her know Take this life outgrown Take this broken soul Call the stars, call them all And take it high, take it far, take it home

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 4 - Nuthin' but Boothill Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[chronicowboy]

His breakup with Marisol is about as unremarkable as the rest of their relationship. There's no catastrophic muffin mess in his kitchen or divorce papers. Just a quiet I don't think this is working out, I'm sorry. Marisol hadn't even cried. She'd just nodded like she'd been waiting for it and left, didn't even need to grab anything from the house before she went and really that just reassured Eddie that this was the right choice.

So, his breakup with Marisol is unremarkable, except that it's not. It's pretty fucking remarkable when he thinks about it because it's not just that they weren't working out, not just that he really didn't care about spending time with her, not just the clench in his gut every time she touched him. No. It's pretty fucking remarkable because he realises he's in love with his best friend.

That's what pushes him over the edge, gives him the last kick he needs to actually break things off with her. Because Eddie may have sworn himself to secrecy about it the moment he realised, but he could never string someone along just because he couldn't have the real someone he wanted.

It's a fucking revelation once he has it. Not a ton of bricks, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds on the greyest of days, bright and blinding. And the way Eddie has always thought of Buck in terms of sunshine maybe should have tipped him off sooner, but with the way Buck has been beaming over the past few weeks. Well. Eddie doesn't really think he can be blamed for only just taking his sunglasses off and daring to look directly at the light.

And, okay, so Eddie maybe makes it a full week before he decides his self-sworn secrecy absolutely is not a viable option when Buck walks through life now like a drop of sunshine in human form. It's after Buck leaves the Diaz house, walking out from a day of giggles and joy at the go-kart track they'd finally managed to convince Chris to be seen with them at, leaving behind a cosy heat like sun-warmed skin, that Eddie realises he cannot go another day without telling Buck that he's desperately, deeply in love with him.

And so, that's how Eddie finds himself at Buck's door on a random Sunday morning, knocking for the first time since Natalia waltzed out of the picture. Buck opens it a few moments later looking perfectly sleep-rumpled and soft and downright golden where he's backlit by the early morning sunlight pooling in the loft.

"Eddie," Buck breathes out, eyes darting up the stairs before refocusing on Eddie and what must be the most hopelessly lovesick expression painted across his face. "H-hey, what are you doing here?"

"I, um." Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Now a good time?" And Buck must hear the slightly shaky steel in his voice because the surprise on his face morphs into a concern so quintessentially Buck that Eddie just wants to kiss it away.

"Y-yeah, of course, come on in." Buck holds the door open for him, and Eddie migrates to the fridge as Buck closes the door with the gentlest touch. "So, um, what's up?"

"I..." Eddie swallows against the heart in his throat, loses himself in the shining blue of Buck's eyes like an ocean he'd be more than happy to drown in. "I broke up with Marisol last week."

"Oh, Eddie." Buck slumps, and Eddie tries not to think that it looks a little like relief. "I'm so sorry, man. That sucks."

"No, no." Eddie waves him off with a laugh. "It's good. Was a long time coming actually." He shakes his head at himself. "I think I was dating her just to tick a box, you know? Realised you probably shouldn't be more excited about a phone call from your new buddy than one from your kinda long-term girlfriend. You definitely shouldn't be relieved when you see your best friend in the restaurant you're taking her to and disappointed when you realise he's just leaving."

And then, Buck blushes, ducks his head, does that little smile that could light up every house on South Bedford Street just like Eddie had been hoping for.

"Yeah." Buck looks up at him from under his lashes. "Probably not."

It bolsters Eddie. Buck's sunshine giving him that one last push he needs.

"There was something else I wanted to say," Eddie starts. And there isn't really any fear in him, knows they'll make it through this no matter what, just an overwhelming sense of peace to come. "I..." A deep breath, gathering all his love and devotion in his lungs so it's ready to pour out on his next inhale and—

A groan from upstairs has the words dying in his throat. A masculine groan. And then:

"Evan?"

"D-down here," Buck calls back.

Eddie can't take his eyes off the loft, stuck there like a car crash he can't look away from as a very shirtless Tommy Kinard appears at the top of the stairs and quickly blanches.

"Shit. Um..." He looks down at Buck in a panic.

Eddie finally manages to drag his eyes away from the very chiselled curveball that just hit him at a hundred miles per hour and finds Buck's face. Small, scared, shaken. He knows the feeling. And because he loves Buck, because of just how deeply he loves Buck, it's the easiest thing in the world to lock that love away and let his face crack into the most genuine of grins. Because if Tommy's been the thing making Buck shine like every fucking star in the sky, well Eddie will absolutely not be getting between them.

"You've been so happy," Eddie chokes out, still smiling.

"I have," Buck whispers.

"And I'm so happy for you." Eddie covers the distance between them in three long strides and pulls Buck into a hug so tight and clinging he's sure it's a confession in and of itself, but Buck only buries in deeper, taking shaky little breaths in the crook of Eddie's neck.

"Thank you," Buck murmurs into his skin. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden rush of tears.

"Sorry you didn't get to tell me on your own terms," he murmurs back, letting Buck pull away, but lingering with a hand on his hip, on his shoulder. He should maybe be worried about what this could look like to Tommy who had basically never heard anything apart from rambles about Buck, except when he glances up the stairs, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

"I was going to tell you," Buck rushes out. "I-I just wasn't sure how."

"That's okay," Eddie says. It's okay. It's okay. "Well, I'll stop gate-crashing for the... Second time?" He raises an eyebrow, and Buck flushes a pink Eddie will never ever get to taste. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense." He remembers the pure fear on Buck's face, the indecision on Tommy's and the sudden tightening of his own chest despite his smile. "I'll leave you guys to it." He clears his throat. "Kinard, if you hurt him, they'll never find your body," he shouts up the stairs.

"Copy that, Diaz," Tommy shouts back.

"I'm really proud of you, Buck." Eddie wraps him in another hug then, a quick thing, just one last touch before Eddie seals every desire away for good.

"Thanks, Eddie." Buck walks him to the door, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie wants to hug him again. Wants so badly it hurts. But if he hugs Buck again, he doesn't think he'll ever let go. "See you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work." Eddie prays Buck is too distracted to hear the wobble in his voice.

"Wait, sorry, what did you want to talk about?"

Eddie freezes on the threshold, the stutter of his heart painful like he's back in a suit store, and he catches himself on the doorframe with a shaking hand.

"It can wait."

[pokimoko]

haunting the narrative -> haunted by the narrative -> haunting the narrative -> haunted by

[marizch]

tgcf x wha

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

Nyagito, Hinyata, and Nyanyami!

[anders-hawke]

[furiosophie]

He looks back down at the baby – Andy – with her lick of dark hair and her splotchy pink skin. Even though she can’t be more than a month old, probably not even, the resemblance to her father – to Hob’s friend – is already uncanny. She looks imperious, a little disapproving, like she’ll nap in his arms if she has to since she doesn’t want to be rude, but privately she thinks the conditions aren’t quite befitting an infant of her station.

Hob loves her instantly, instinctively, in a way that he thinks is going to be nearly impossible to get over.

real people by spqr (@andthepeople)

[mourn-and-watch]

no but essek's abnormal behaviours in the last arc and especially in episode 140 are my roman empire. which is ironic because aeor is something of a roman empire itself. but in all seriousness, it was the episode that made me realise i love essek and his development so much and it kinda summarised it even before caleb's epilogue.

and i mean the "it's not fair" scene specifically. it's like, an epitome of his whole character progression from a person who put An Objectively Important Goal above all else without hesitation to someone who can't help but care for people around even more than his goal, no matter how big and relevant it is.

the mighty nein - and he alongside them - pretty much saved the world and freed an ancient city from thousand-year-long suffering. they defeated nine extremely powerful menacing entities who managed to stay out of everyone's sight for years and were so close to achieving their goal and dooming exandria in the process. they did the impossible and became heroes and somehow, they survived, even though they had bidden farewells a couple of hours ago because they had already understood what they had been facing. and nevertheless. they made it.

and none of them was celebrating.

mighty nein are basically essek's only friends. he knew them to be very unusual people, to put it lightly, loud and stubborn and completely inescapable once they consider you to be one of their own. and they showed him so much kindness and put so much faith in him, they were here playing the most atrocious music ever and digging clay in his backyard for a spell they invented just to help one of theirs and asking him if he could bring them pastries the day after they found out he was lying to them and had started a war. they were chaotic and weird and sometimes unbearable but most importantly they were carrying so much hope with them all this time - a hope they could end the war, a hope they could stop the angel of irons cult, a hope they could get better, a hope he could get better, and now, finally, that they could save their lost friend.

and that hope shattered, just like that, the moments after they'd already made the impossible. they saved so many souls - and then could not get back just that one.

for essek "my intentions were never good they were important" thelyss it just. shouldn't have mattered. they won. it could have been worse. people die and when they die they rarely come back. they should've been happy everyone else barely made it alive.

but for some reason, mighty nein being so defeated after they saved the world exposed him to that overwhelming feeling of injustice and unfairness. and i mean, there were many things essek considered to be unfair, but when i watched his first appearance and his interactions with mighty nein later on til their reunion in aeor arc, i wouldn't dare to guess that one of the things on that list would be something that personal. and personal not even to him.

the thing is, essek didn't even know who that guy was. why mighty nein cared about him so much. he had an idea, i guess, that he was their friend once, or someone in that body was. it was also a person who wanted to unleash a terrifying horrific aberration onto the material plane. it was a person very dedicated to killing essek and his friends - and they still didn't take any pleasure in fighting him. essek didn't feel strongly about lucien or molly, because he never knew them.

i don't think he mourned his death and failed resurrection. he mourned mighty nein's hope, the one they put in him when they had no reason to, the one they offered yasha in the cathedral and the one they kept after the spell for veth failed and the one they carried til the very end because they wanted it to reach molly. they had saved people with this hope. they had saved nations. they had saved the world. but they ended up feeling like it hadn't even been worth anything.

how desperate would it feel, witnessing people who for some reason always saw good in you when they absolutely shouldn't, who made literal miracles out of nothing, who ended wars and fought gods and tricked the hags and freed cities from horrors beyond anyone's comprehension purely because they thought it was the right thing to do and also loved their friends this much, silently crying over a dead body they couldn't bring back to life? how desperate would it feel to realise that with all your knowledge about time you dedicated your life to and threw away any principles for, you can't undo this? no one can. some things are left to fate alone and this time it wasn't kind to them. no matter how much good they did, they still got slapped in the face.

and it was, i think, such a genuine moment of empathy. like, essek is the character who prefers to put up a facade and act distant and self-composed but this time he just. walked away unable to watch this. the could only say to fjord that it wasn't fair. even when he was caught off guard in nicodranas he was able to explain himself and his motives to an extent even though he was a nervous wreck whose extra important plan went to hell the second the only people he cared about appeared. this time he had nothing to elaborate on. it just wasn't fair. it wasn't fair his friends didn't get what they wanted the most. it wasn't fair he couldn't do anything to make it right.

it is such a sad and beautiful and even cathartic scene because it is about person who started a war that destroyed so many lives - and then met this ragtag group of weirdos who saw a lonely stand-offish guy and said "hey, let's be friends!" and didn't even wait for him to answer. he saw them being serious and calculated and he saw them being ridiculous and extremely stupid, he saw their mistrust to outsiders and their loyalty to each other, he made spells with them and paid a visit to their hot tub, he ate their stale pastries and drank their hot chocolate mixed with whiskey, he was welcomed amongst them and in their wonderful home, both in xhorhas before they even found out what he had done and in the tower when they already knew - and then, he saw them mourning their loss, defeated and helpless, and he, a person who believed there were things more important than whole nations, let alone just one life, couldn't help but share the pain they felt. a pure display of compassion from someone who detached himself from it, who didn't believe he could grow into a better person capable of it again, but became one nonetheless without even realising it

[fandomfluffandfuck]

"S-say it again?" Steve pants, too desperate and on edge as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably. Thrusting in and pulling back sharply, quickly, and shallowly, unable to take it. Too much. So much.

Feelssogood.

Steve's ears burn with the tight, wet sounds that Bucky's cunt makes around his achy, hard cock. It's already pornographic but then the wet, slick noises have to be underscored embarrassingly by the obscene, sharp collision of their naked bodies hitting together--his pelvis pressed flush to Bucky's thick ass. Smack.Smack.Smack.

Oh, God, he can't help it. Fucking forward. Short and desperate thrusts. He can't help it. A whine trips and falls out of his buzzing mouth, kiss-swollen, red, and glistening. The phantom sensation of Bucky's teeth is still imprinted on his flesh, biting his fat lower lip just enough to hurt, forcing his mind to clear so he can listen to the growled instructions Bucky gives him on how he wants to be fucked. Saying the words right into his mouth, making him swallow them, hot and heavy in his belly.

For now, Steve swallows a whimper, the sensation of fucking is too much but he can't stop. He can't stop. He's sensitive but it's too much. Not enough! He, he...

He can't formulate a single fucking thought, he's so caught up in his throbbing, coiled-tight body.

Meanwhile, Bucky sighs pleasantly, content to keep the torture going and ensuring it will by squeezing his thick, strong thighs firmly around Steve's little waist. Holding him between his legs, heaven, like he wants to bruise him, mark him, hold him there, and make him lose his mind inside his molten body, carving deep into him. He knows exactly what he does to Steve and it isn't fucking fair. Steve keens. How is he supposed to function? How is he supposed to not go stupid?

When Bucky doesn't do anything else but grip him with his fucking thighs--Jesus, his thighs--Steve wilts, subcumbing to the crackling, spitting fire inside him, melting his muscles, leaving him weak and trembling as if he's feverish. He is. He's burning up. His head hangs lower, and his lips drag over the side of Bucky's throat, nosing his jaw, his breath humid and thick as he repeats himself, "sssay it again?" Steve begs. His voice is more whine than anything else.

He doesn't mean to be so pathetic, whining, nosing, and humping Bucky like a dumb puppy getting his dick wet for the first time, but he doesn't know what else to do. He needs it! He needs to hear it. It's all he wants. He wants it more than he wants his orgasm at this point. It is an orgasm, that in of itself.

If Bucky would just say it!

He wants it. He wants it so bad he can taste it.

It's not fair--he's drowning in the taste, but he can't indulge. The inferno inside his has reached a fever pitch again and again before Bucky's gotten control over it, suffocating the flames, cooling the heat just enough. Stopping him right on the cusp. Leaving him sweating and shaking but never losing it fully. Catching him just before his eyes roll back into his head--right before release. Now, poor Steve's hypersensitive and ever-burning. So molten that he's gone beyond red-hot to pure white.

Pure heat.

Steve fucks another little sound out of himself, grinding into Bucky's cunt too deep. He's flushed pink and needy all the way to his curling, cramping toes. It aches.

Yet, his hips buck again, jostling Bucky good, his cock battering his prostate like he likes, sending pulsing, electric pleasure through him. Bucky gets pleasure. Bucky gets to cum. Bucky tells him what do to, he orders him around, he owns his dick.

"Pleeeeease!" Steve whines, especially pathetic.

Finally fucking pathetic enough, desperate enough, tears in his eyes, a sob at the back of his throat that Bucky does as he asks. Just this once. But first...

Steve keens when he's blinded, assaulted, by the electric, sparkling sensation of Bucky's fist tightening its grip in his hair, holding right at the base of his neck like he's scruffing him or, oh, fuck, like he's pulling on a leash. It causes his hips to fuck harder, grinding deeper where he's hotter, wetter, tighter. So easy to direct, such an obedient boy.

But-!

Steve needs something to do with his mouth. Steve's out of his fucking mind. Steve doesn't even care that it's embarrassing how he drools and licks and sucks at Bucky's collarbone. It's there and he needs him. He needs his mouth full. He needs more. Moremoremoremore. He really just wants--

Bucky lets it happen.

He groans, "good boyyy," as he's pounded into fervently. God, Steve gets dumb but he knows how to use that big fucking cock.

"A-AH!" Steve cries out, still humping him, "ah, ah, ah-again!" Steve whimpers, his thrusts sloppy and clumsy as he's walked right up to the line. So eager. So close.

"Magic word?" Bucky chuckles, barely avoiding a moan of pleasure. He's so deep inside him that he can feel him in the back of his throat. Jesus.

"'Pluh-please!" Steve slurrs, drunk on the tight clench of his body.

"Good boy," Bucky barely finishes the words--pulling harshly at Steve's hair as he goes faster, harder, deeper--before Steve is losing it completely, curling over top of him, shivering so hard that it's more like convulsions as he empties himself inside him, moaning himself hoarse. He can't help it, digging his fingers into the sheets and mattress as he falls apart. He hears that little bit of praise, and every bit of restraint leaves his puppy.

[tricoufamily]

can you guess which two i made have kids in cas. more importantly can you tell which brother's gonna murder the other

[muiromem]

Kathryn Janeway - "The Fates"

The Moirai of Greek myth. The youngest, Clotho - the spinner who controlled life, choosing when a person was born and weaving their thread of existence. The middle one, Lachesis - the allotter who measured out the length of this thread and decided a person's destiny. And the eldest, Atropos - she who was inevitable that ended a mortal's life, cutting the thread and choosing the manner of their death.

[just-seeing-everything]

Can't get it out of my mind. Connor is a dog that adjust his own leash (tie). A guard dog that knows no better and comes back to the hand that feeds but also hurts, and he would do anything for it. The hand hurts and hurts and hurts but he would do anything for it, he has been beat into obedience. He would hurt and hurt and hurt and he adjust his own leash, bloodied hands that nobody holds, staining his mouth and fingers and clothes, and he comes back, adjusting his tie for he is dignified; no one makes holy his massacre and what prize does one receive for such brutal efficiency?

Markus is nothing but one of the bird in the cage, one Carl has right at the entrance. Artificial. False. Stuck. No one pity them in their little perfect golden homes, and why would anyone pity Markus? He should be grateful for the life he had, piano songs, a big house, a loving owner and pricey paintings; he had everything anyone would wish for. It's gold and it shines but isn't his and it doesn't matter that he can't leave, until he leaves, smelling the earth after rain and with skin a little thicker than before — free.

[forgetful-river]

Sometimes being in love is like getting your eye gored in a fit of purifying violence, sometimes it's not