#but they're both shitheads

[mur-art]

hii :D

im genuinely curious about how you perceive the texacali dynamic (especially with the calivada tag that said texacali was the relationship california deserved /neg and now i’m super invested)

Okay so my comment about Texacali was mostly tongue-in-cheek but what I mean by that is that Texas and California are two sides of the same coin, more alike than they realize and would like to acknowledge. They drive each other mad because they're so similar but just different enough to constantly be in conflict. They're both too proud, too outspoken, too stubborn. Sometimes they wonder (whether seriously or not) if they were put on this earth solely to annoy each other. My perception of them is heavily influenced by fanon interpretations so I don't really have any original insight here, BUT, in summary: I think they could have a healthy relationship if they embrace the things they have in common and learn to communicate better about the things they don't. But it won't come easily; they'd have to work hard to make it happen, and learn some things in the process. They would both have to learn how to admit to being wrong (god forbid) and learn how to put their egos aside. I think they both need each other for that reason-- it takes one to know one, as they say.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Thank you for the tag, @nyx-knox!

Here’s a bit from the sequel fic I’m working on:

No one else is coming. Nothing else is going to happen. There’s no reason for the tension clawing along his shoulders and creaking down his spine.

He casts another cantrip, though between hours of the same, and her own, mortal body heat, the inside of his tent is warmer than it’s ever been. And he rather doesn’t want that to end.

Yet it does, because their leader is mortal and needs to do things like walk around and eat and drink and relieve herself.

She mumbles something in her own tongue. It’s nowhere near as elegant as his own Elvish, nor as stilted as to-the-point Common. It has its own smooth roll, though, and it’s nearly pleasant to listen to.

This man has no idea. No idea. But he’s gonna get there. Eventually.

Tagging @sasseffects @britonell @lyzelky @dajeong @simpyra

[evilkitten3]

naruto crack au where kakashi manages to successfully drill the "never abandon your comrades" thing into team seven's heads

so when sasuke deserts naruto and sakura immediately desert with him. like he gets to the village gates and they're just waiting for him bags packed like "what took u so long we doing this or what"

he tries to get them to go back bc of course he does. "no you losers this is about me i'm going to kill my brother. also i'll have to kill my best friend for the super sharingan and you two are like the only people i talk to". but they do not listen. teamwork sasuke we will defeat your brother (OUR brother #communism) with the power of teamwork. just like kakashi-sensei said

suddenly orochimaru has to deal with three horrible little goblins with an even more codependent relationship than his old team

[kitkat-sans]

i did it ;3

I WANTED TO DO MORE DETAILS BUT MY STORAGE SAID NO.

Without text | V

[robotsandramblings]

i had a really funny revelation that Crosshair and Echo were [during S3] and still are sharing the Havoc-4 call sign, probably even playfully fighting over it, now that Crosshair is back on the team,,

then i realized that Crosshair probably took up the Havoc-2 call sign because Tech is gone

IT STARTED OFF CUTE AND NOW I'M JUST REALLY SAD ALL OVER AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[catspores]

Rp stuff is crazy... Corvid has a third boyfriend.

Sapphics really do move the fastest

[simcardiac-arrested]

I've lately never been in a server that's not at least 16+ what the hell happens in those vent channels <- morbidly curious but also feel free to disregard this

DAMN i wish i was you. better question is what DOESNT happen in these channels

[theheightofdishonor]

talking about post timeskip matches, you know that daikuroo are constantly rounding up their friends to play against each other.

[supercantaloupe]

i had my zoom meeting with maestro and the assistant conductor today to talk about the manager job and it all sounds okay to me (i'll feel more comfortable about the whole arrangement once i can come in and shadow the last two rehearsals this semester and get a feel for the job in person) but it's a little funny how frequently maestro kept assuring me that. well if it sounds like too much work or just not something i am capable of or even want to do it's okay no pressure he'll be fine without me it's totally up to me don't sign on if you aren't absolutely one hundred percent okay with it and even if it's too much let me know because we can adjust the duties and help you out it's okay. and also him being like the pay isn't that good i'm going to try to ask for more money to pay you and the assistant conductor and maybe partially fund you if you go on tour with us next summer but it really should be more pay than this i'm sorry anyway here's like seven other ways you can make a little extra cash through related jobs like arranging extra parts for the orchestra and subbing on english horn as needed and maybe i can find some money for you to write program notes also have you considered teaching at the local music school it's a good way to get your foot in the door and make a little extra on the side sorry it's not much i hope it's okay for you

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

i was so so so annoyed by this "billionaire with a heart of gold" shit tms was peddling and the last couple episodes have been a relief

[byanyan]

What kind of villain are you?

morally grey villain

ㅤyou know the choices you've made and you live with it. violent delights and violent ends, and all the other bullshit. you do terrible things. you do wonderful things. someone told you that you're either the hero or the villain, and you responded with yes. people count on you, doesn't matter if it's one or many, you'll see it through till the end of the task, or the end of your life.

tagged by:ㅤ@gnarledbite of course, ty!!

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

[metalmaul]

twitter broken quick we must join together to julius caesar elon musk

[rock-a-noodle]

The feminine urge to draw/edit Clay and Danielle's heads onto t.A.T.u.

[samwisefamgee]

haven't done anything on Sunday for the past two fucking months because a friend has made plans for all of us then canceled them the day of or before every. fucking. time.

[kill-vonkarma-again]

it drives me crazy that manfred von karma and kristoph are eerily similar to each other because with the way that they're written it's almost like comparing skeletor with chuck mcgill