#i cannot keep living like this.

[biolums]

4am. i cant sleep. stuck in my damn head with my own thoughts.. this calls for drastic measures (crying myself to sleep)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In the shape of you, something new.

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[little-pondhead]

Inspired by this post.

[scintillyyy]

an uncomfortable truth is that if batman and all the batkids were kidnapped and it was up to alfred to save only one while all the others would perish, alfred would push the button to save bruce with no hesitation before the villain was even done talking

and even more uncomfortable truth is that bruce would eventually forgive him this

[andy-clutterbuck]

1x04 - What We | The Ones Who Live

[ghouljams]

Ok but how could u just mention ballet au konig wants to rip her tights. Like I wanna see this. I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SO MUCH

Genuinely I had to go back and read my own tags how did you find that I hid it so well.

Ballet!König is my favorite creature man, I think of him often and keep forgetting to write for him. Here's some good old fashioned tights ripping for you :)

König's fingers tug at your tights, his teeth biting the sheer material to make a hole before he rips the seam open with a truly satisfying 'rrrrrip'. He stares at the pink leotard under it, his thumbs holding the seam open as he breathes heavily. His eyes dart to yours and he swallows thickly, you blink at him. The embarrassment of having him physically rip your clothes is almost more than you can handle. He presses his face against your mound, breathes you in with a satisfied groan, and licks a stripe up your slit through your dance clothes.

"König, wai-" There's another ripping sound, his fingers curling and pulling against your thigh, putting another hole in your tights. You don't know why it makes you arch, your hands flying to his hair to hold him close as he continues wetting your leotard with his tongue. He moves his hand under your thigh, coaxes you to hitch it over his shoulder only to rip yet another hole in the back of your tights. He's teasing you, letting you feel the slick pressure of his mouth, the heat of his breath, letting you hear his desperation, without actually touching you.

You look to the side, watching yourself in the floor to ceiling mirrors of the practice room. The way your chest rises and falls, the way König hunches over you, the way your skin presses against the ribbons of nylon still hanging on to you, you can even see König's cock straining against his sweats. After hours in the company studio, you'd thought he'd want to practice your pas de duex, not- You whine as he pulls your leotard between his fingers and his teeth and rips.

"Naughty, naughty, Schatz," He tuts, stroking his fingers along your dripping cunt "you really should wear underwear to work." You both know you're not the only ballerina in company to leave the house with one less layer, but that doesn't stop the heat that ripples over your skin at his chastising. His tongue flicks against your clit without the fabric barrier and you moan, feeling the heat of it clench deep in your stomach.

He presses a finger into you as he sucks on your clit, big and thick and reaching further than yours ever could. You buck your hips into his gentle thrusts, desperate, whining. He reaches around your leg to rest his arm against your stomach, holding you down. You're not a weak person by any measure, but neither is he, and the strength he exerts to keep you in place as he licks you is disastrous for your ability to think. The same hands that lift you so carefully, so effortlessly, keeping you still while he pulls back and eases a second finger into your slick cunt.

You whine and whimper for him. Tight heat steadily builds in your stomach as he scissors and thrusts his fingers in tandem with the roll of his tongue. The all too pleasant ache of being stretched is starting to make you sweat, still in all your clothes built for warmth. You can feel your hair starting to come out of its bun from all your wiggling on the floor. "König please," You beg, even knowing your pleas are going to fall on deaf ears.

"One more, don't want to hurt you," König mumbles, taking a moment to bite the untorn tights on your other leg and rip. You can feel your wetness on his lips, on his tongue when he licks your freshly exposed skin. Despite the promise of another finger, he curls the two already inside of you. You bite your lip, try to keep your voice down until he presses against that soft spongy spot and you hum out your pleasure, attempting to arch your back under his iron grip. He coos praises down at you, and those are somehow worse than the chastising. Your cheeks are hot thinking about the dancers that were in this room earlier, the ones that would return tomorrow, what would they think if they knew you were dripping all over the floor from your lead's fingers.

A third finger presses into you, stretching you with a delicious little burn. Full, but not in the way you want to be. Not in the way König knows you'll beg him for. He twists his fingers in and out of your cunt, working your clenching heat open. His eyes never leave your face, even as his tongue laps at your sweet folds. He can never get used to the way you fall apart for him. The way your little whines turn into panting pleas.

He never seems to stretch you out enough to not ache when he pushes his girthy cock into you. Always wants you to feel every inch, every vein, of it as it splits you open. It's no fun if he doesn't see the little spark of pain in your eyes when you raise your leg or drop into the splits. No fun if he can't fold you in half and hear you sob as he fucks into your tight little hole, begging for more from him. Always so greedy his little ballerina. You clench around his cock so nicely, gummy walls dragging against his length, so desperate to hold him inside. God you're gorgeous falling apart for him, legs shaking and head thrown back as you cum on his cock. He never has to slow his thrusts, he knows you can take it, knows you're as desperate for him to cum and fill you up as he is.

Pretty little ballerina. He loves watching his cum drip out of you, staining your already ruined clothes. Watching you dance is a treat, but knowing he'll have you like this afterwards? Well, that makes it all the better.

[ganondoodle]

you know when you have an idea for a drawing and it just wont let you rest until you at least sketched it?

... yeah

....

demise and hylia (humanoid forms) sleepy cuddles o((>ω< ))o

[avpdpossum]

avoidance is so weird because it’s so temptingly easy to pretend it’s not there when it’s not at its absolute worst.

when i’m at my lowest, my avoidance becomes volatile and dangerous — it means almost daily mental breakdowns, it means probably wanting to hurt myself or worse, it’s means things are bad bad. but times like now? where i’m in a better place and i don’t have to interact with people often enough to trigger it too badly? it’s easy to pretend i’m fine.

and that’s not because i don’t have symptoms — there’s a big glaring reason i don’t have a job yet, that i stay in the house pretty much every day and (aside from the family i live with) only ever see my safe person, that there’s a million important doctor calls i haven’t made yet, that i have my name change papers all ready to go but haven’t changed any of my documents yet. the avoidance is obviously still there and still causing problems, and i know my life doesn’t look how it should.

but because it’s not destroying my default mental state right now, it feels like i’m lying to myself and i’m totally mentally healthy and i have nothing to worry about. and when i see my therapist, the way i describe things sounds like there’s nothing going wrong in my life because there’s no active bad shit, just a lot of things that aren’t happening. and how do you quantify the absence of something?

how do i explain that the problem isn’t that i’m unhappy, it’s not that there’s bad things to fix, it’s just that most of the time, there’s nothing at all? that i’m mostly happy because i don’t have much of a life right now, and if i were to get my life to a better place from a practical standpoint i would almost definitely be thrown back into a worse mental state?

i’m trying to find a balance that allows me to have a decent life and decent mental health, but god, it’s hard to do when it would be so much easier and less exhausting to just stay stagnant forever and hold onto the relative peace that comes with that.

[lovereadandwrite]

Fyodor resurrecting for the first time: 🤷🏻‍♂️:3

[beatcroc]

🔥 unsolicited, my unpopular pizza tower opinion is that I um. I don't think peppino is actually any better off postgame. Like financially I mean. It's not like the tower was stealing his customers or anything, and he's still out in the middle of fuckdamn nowhere, which I assume is the main reason his business was failing in the first place. He's got some peace of mind and some new pals postgame sure, but uh. Far as i can tell the main problems haven't really changed at all.

[bonebrokebuddy]

“I don’t understand why you’re so adamant on asking me this, Hal. I just mentioned to Barry that I talked with the head Easter Bunny once and now everyone keeps asking me if I think the Easter Bunny is real! Why do people keep asking me? I’ve met them. I don’t understand why I have to ‘believe’ in the Easter Bunny for them to be real! They exist!”

Hal put his hands up and stepped back, clearly not expecting the frustrated and somewhat hostile response of Billy who slumped back into his seat, which was slightly less satisfying in his bulkier body, and began running his hands through his hair.

The repetition of being interrogated over a simple comment was not only bewildering but had gotten increasingly more annoying to answer as somehow the members of The Justice League, the literal most powerful group of people on earth, didn’t seem to understand a piece of basic knowledge.

Billy was not only very tired of being asked the same thing but even more-so he wanted the laughing at his ordinary response to stop.

He paused and looked Hal dead in the eyes then began to speak in the most dead tone Hal had ever heard from the usually cheerful man.

“Hal, I know the Easter Bunnies are real because I had to spend two, very long weeks personally overseeing the creation of their union that made sure they no longer routinely experience unsafe working conditions and helped establish 8 hour working days so they no longer get overworked or are required to do 80 hour weeks prepping for Easter and get punished for doing less or don’t get paid”,

Billy’s previously slow, blank tone grew more rushed and frustrated as he went on,

“I mean, I didn’t even do much other than sit there and look intimidating by throwing around lightning sometimes and make sure the Easter chicks didn’t do any funny business or tamper with the legal process!

It was in all the papers in Fawcett! I had my picture taken with them and everything. But Hal. I can guarantee you that the Easter Bunny exists. Please. Please stop fucking asking me.” Finally done, Billy slumped onto the table with a loud clunk.

Hal stood there shocked for a moment. “Marvel, did you just imply there’s multiple easter bunnies and they established a form of government?!”

Billy, with seemingly tremendous emotional effort, lifted his head from the table by a few inches and looked Hal in the eyes with a pleading tone, “If I just say no, will you please stop asking me?”

“Absolutely not, now I have even more questions”

Billy let his head fall back onto the table with an even louder clunk and groaned.

[alwyswnadie]

boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend

[sephospaganplace]

There are so so so many ways to experience the gods.

There is no right or wrong way. There is no blunt way. Its all feeling and ephemeral.

If you've felt warmth, if you've had a dream, if you've seen a crow that stares at you for too long, if something inexplicable happens and you're lucky suddenly, if you've caught eyes with a stranger and felt like you knew each other. If the candle flickers a certain way, if one time when you're singing your voice sounds gorgeous in a way you weren't expecting, these are all the presence of a god.

God phoning is popular on witchtok but half the time what they're saying is bullshit. I've very very rarely heard a voice and every single time it was my own voice, just suffused with something, saying something I normally wouldn’t say. Or maybe I would. I've never heard a clear, distinct, audible voice. Its an invisible world we're connecting with, its a different plain. We cannot experience it the same way we experience every day life.

We'll never sit down at a coffee table across from the physical manifestation of our god, and know that its them, not until after. And even then we can never be sure. That’s the nature of it. There are no absolutes, there cannot be. That’s what makes it beautiful. That’s where belief comes in. It isn't about being good enough or worthy enough or devout enough, that doesn't exist. That isn’t what its about at all. You are worthy even if the divine doesn’t manifest in a way we've been told is the only real way, and you are connecting even if you cant see it now. My most intense spiritual experiences are never something I realize are happening in the moment, its always only after that I can see it clearly.

The gods are all around us.

[averlym]

the one who pulls the strings (click for better resolution!)

from adamandi by @melliotwrites,, consider this my pitch to get you all to watch it

[roaringheat]

You've gotta be shittin me im goin a little insane over the way Charles asks Arthur to help him by saying "Do it for me" and then repeating it just a little more firmly when Arthur doesn't immediately give in ohhhhhh my god

[shorlinesorrows]

qpr jean and neil. that's all i'm gonna say.

do you see my vision?