#help girl im in the tags

[officiallydoubtful]

Y’know those evil personas that Youtubers had back in like 2017 or so? I love the idea of those. I think we should bring back using opposite names as like our 'evil persona'. I'll go first, hello everyone, my name is InformallyCertain! Awful to meet you, now I'm off to kick a puppy, or whatever it is evil people do!!

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[girlnut]

the catch for me being a pretty girl is that im insane and weird. sorry

[flyingbuddiies]

taco i’ll save you from the mischaracterizations on tumblr….

its funny how the episodes point is literally to show that she isn’t a heartless monster and actually feels remorse for her actions but people are like NO!!!! SHES MANIPULATING EVERYONE. EVERY SINGLE ACTION SHE COMMITS HAS MALICIOUS ULTERIOR MOTIVES BEHIND THEM! like… no…. did we watch the same episode… you guys are blinded by hatred of a fictional character so badly you cannot consume the media as intended. i’m not excusing her actions or saying she DIDN’T fuck up badly but oh my god. you lot are missing the point of how the her entire arc is headed (in point of giving taco redemption) SHE LITERALLY DIEEEDDDD BECAUSE OF THE SHEER INTENSITY OF HER EMOTIONS AND PEOPLE ARE SAYING SHE DIDNT CAAAREEEE

ALSO also THERES LITERALLY SYMBOLISM WITH THE CRACK SHE HAD!!!!! -hand gesture- you know. avoiding all of her problems and deflecting them. in terms of the events of leading up to the manner it got inflicted. her outer facade beginning to collapse. she kept on suffering from it which literally caused her to shatter. but after she got regenerated she doesn’t have it anymore. literally a metaphor for growth and healing!!! hear me out on this one

not gonna say anything drastic but it is funny how people love male characters for the same exact negative traits taco exhibits.. yet.. hm

[cosmicrhetoric]

my personal fave "luffy holds a mirror up to someone's soul" moments. aka the whole point i think

[pokeberry5]

girl experiences gender euphoria and is immediately slammed by grief

for @litttlittt <3. this was supposed to be a portrait of caroline hill, but litta mentioned tim looking like janet when dressed as caroline and identity issues and angst and things spiraled

something about tim not knowing if he's his mother's child or bruce's or neither's.

figuring out the looks:

i wanted janet to have that poofy 70s hair

[themortaldraw]

read twilight thinks he's a dog

[tonia-aaaaa]

Mild redesigns for some of my faves bc it is truly tragic that there are exactly 0 (zero) genshin characters with any sort of curly hair

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / cisfem!reader / scent kink

something nobody ever considers about satoru gojo is that he’s very particular about scents.

it’s a weird side effect of the six eyes that is rarely ever spoken of, by him or any other; along with his fantastical sight, his ability to distinguish minute details kilometres away, to read the ever-twisting flow of cursed energy, yadda yadda yadda — the extrasensory perception he was granted the second two gametes fused into a zygote had skyrocketed every perceptible sensation above the level of the average human. leagues above the level of not-so-average humans, too, but that’s a story for another time.

beneath the slightly dusty smell of skin cells and flesh, each person is different. diet and exercise play a huge part, of course, but then there’s the more obvious things — perfume, toiletries, surroundings. nanami always smells like paper and sandalwood. nobara, sweet and fruity, with a sneaky undertone of something synthetic — something almost hospital-like. yuji smells like grass and citruses, like he’s just popped open a can of something fizzy and caffeinated on the lawns of jujutsu tech. but if he had to choose a favourite…

“could — could you, um—”

one really must forge their own little bits of happiness in this line of work. the constant death and despair really puts a damper on one's lust for life. for gojo — sweets, cute little figures, themed cafes and expensive cakes, things that pleasantly appeal to and delight each one of his six senses. you, in a similar way, enjoy the finer things in life — cashmere and vicuña wool, luxury furniture for your top-floor apartment, century-old wines with names you cannot pronounce — and, to gojo's delight, perfumes.

oh, you have one for every day of the year, he's sure. white florals bursting with zesty citrus, bergamot and black tea when the weather cools. there's fluffy vanillas and sugar-sweet marshmallows, tempered with the smooth depth of sandalwood. osmanthus seeping with syrupy apricots and and peaches. cloves and nutmeg and cypress for the days when the clouds split open and tokyo turns grey.

with your back pressed against the couch and gojo flush against you, hips slotted between your pillowy thighs, he's able to dig his nose right into the curve of where your jaw meets your neck, exactly where you spritz your perfume every morning. today, it's one of those delicious, good-enough-to-eat type of smells; white chocolate and macadamia nut and — fuck, he almost moans against you. sugar and spice and everything nice — you smell like everything he's ever wanted to gorge himself on. he's reminded of the cheap, strawberry body spray you used to use back in high school — how the scent would catch on his nose when you walked past, how it lingered on his jacket when you brushed against him. he shivers.

he lifts his lips from your skin — lifts his nose from the cradle of your neck to give you a distracted, slightly disgruntled, "huh? what?"

it's only without the smell of you clouding his nose that he suddenly realises that you're squirming against him — the heat of your clothed pussy pressing against his hardened cock, layers of cotton and denim and linen between you both leaving you with only the slightest, most irksome hint of pleasure. even with his blindfold fastened over his eyes, it's all so much.

"just — i need something," you say, exasperated. your forehead's dewy with sweat, glasses slipping down the bridge of your pretty nose. "you've been at this for ages."

"ah, my bad." but he doesn't stop. how can he tear himself from your warmth, the heat of you radiating from your skin, your arms wound around his neck and fingers in his hair? how can he leave even a single inch of space between you, when your chest is heaving with excitement and the musky sweetness of your arousal is reaching his nose? he satisfies both your needs for stimulation with slow, curling rolls of his hips, dull pleasure tingling up his spine and leaving him shuddering. "i thought you were more patient."

"you — you're the one that dragged me in here," you say, even as your breathing gets heavier, even as your head falls back with a whine, baring the column of your neck to his greedy, seeking nose. "i told you i have plans, so unless you—!"

"alright, alright," he concedes, though all of your arguments about the time have been half-hearted at best. "don't you worry, i'll take good care of you — real good care."

"you sound like such a sleaze when you say stuff like that."

"mhm." for a moment, he lifts his head — and he doesn't have to look at his reflection mirrored in your eyes to know that his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed pink. you're not much better off — for all your whining and posturing, your proverbial claws aren't much more dangerous than those of a scrappy little kitten. beneath it all, your breathing is laboured, your blood vessels dilated. you smell sweeter, like your body is a ripening fruit or blooming flower, opening for him. your blood rushing to the surface of your skin, heating up the fragrance oils still dotted along your flesh, turns it all heady and head-dizzying.

you want him — you can deny it all you want, but he can see it clear as day. the reminder sends what little blood remains in his head straight to his cock.

"you smell sweet," satoru says, blank and dumb. "when you're horny."

for a moment, you pause. embarrassment — and arousal, though you probably won't admit it — has you locking up. a hint of bitterness turns your fragrance — like burning chocolate — before you huff suddenly, smacking at him until he begins to back up. "oh, my god — you're so shameless, satoru—"

"no, i'm serious! h—hey, stop!" he argues, wriggling until he's back in your good graces again. he dips his head to your skin again, teasing you with little nips along your neck. you'll see the bruises it leaves tomorrow and demand he make it up to you with sweets that he'll just have to eat with you, earrings that glimmer in garnet. for now, though, he’ll get a little serious.

"you get a little sweeter when you cum too, y'know," satoru coos. he tugs at his blindfold, blinking as unfettered light filters into his retina. it's sensory overload, overstimulating and overwhelming, but it's exactly what he wants: to see you, feel you, taste you, smell you — be engulfed by you in every way he can. as if drawn there, his hand sneaks between the tight fit of your bodies, slipping under the hiked-up hem of your skirt and petting at your underwear — soaked, as he’d expected, coating the tips of his fingers. "like syrup. i wanna smell you like that.”

his tongue peeks out over your pulse point, touch reaching up and up and up to that fantastic little ball of nerves he adores. you let out a moan so loud that even he’s taken aback. giddiness bubbles in the pit of his stomach — giddiness, horniness, it’s all the same to him — and he shoves his nose so hard into your skin he swears it’ll bruise. ah, there it is. he’s barely even touched you, too. it’ll be even better when he does.

“g—god, you’re horrible,” you say, arching into him, like you can’t bear to be apart for even a second.

“me?” satoru laughs. you’re distracting from the task at hand, though he usually doesn’t mind. he can’t help but respond, giving you your own attitude back a thousandfold. it’s just now, when it’s been so long since he’s gotten his fill of you, he’s just… a little impatient... “oi, don’t get all embarrassed — you always get so mean.”

“then stop saying things like that, and i won’t have to be — a—ah!”

satoru suckles at the cold-hardened flesh he’s just taken in his mouth — your mouth falling open in wonder and your chest heaving as he takes your nipple between two dull rows of teeth, humming. between his fingers and his mouth, you’ll soon be rendered almost completely silent, shuddering and twitching in what he knows will be a strong, satisfying orgasm — sweet with sweat, salt and musk gathering between your legs. looking up at him with glassy eyes and calling his name. his mouth waters.

he better get a move on, though: you have plans, after all.

[kitamars]

oh no! more ginhiji

[latenightsundayblues]

I imagine their banter and bickering in the process of killing someone would deal greater psychological damage than the torturing itself

[ambivartence]

...AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEONG JAEHYUN!!!!

[himemeiya]

Oh yes, they both reached for the gun... [x/x]

[paintpanic]

(original video)

[chonkymoth]

*through gritted teeth* i love having blorbos and ships for hyperfixations *clawing at my floorboards* i love focusing so wholeheartedly on a character that I cannot consume them enough *rattling the bars of my enclosure* i love having ships that i'm obsessive over that are ultimately just queerbait and/or shipbait *sliding down the wall, sobbing* i love needing to write fanfiction and create art for characters just to never let it see the light of day, if i even finish it *shaking like a chihuahua* i just love loving media. i love it soooo much

[souporsaladnatural]

Dean kicking cas out of the bunker is such a tragic and heartbreaking scene to me. Not just because of how upset dean and cas are about it, but because of the opportunity lost.

Cas has always been a very independent solving his own problems kinda character, to a detrimental degree. In season 5 it was looking for god, on his own. In season 6 it was working with crowley to open purgatory, on his own. In season 8 it was deciding that it was best for dean to stay away from him and then keeping the angel tablet and then deciding to trust and work with metatron, on his own. But here he was in season 9, human and vulnerable, and he realized "I cant do this alone, I need help"

And then you have dean, who has been reaching out to cas and wanting him to stay for several seasons now, always foiled by cas' hot girl activities, and he FINALLY has cas wanting to stay. Finally gets to keep him safe and with him. He can show him that "Yes, its ok to ask for help. We're your family, we'll help you. Of course you can stay."

And then he can't. And even though this is resolved, and cas forgives dean because he understands, and they're ok, this was an opportunity to break the pattern they've found themselves in that they never get back. A pattern they never really break.