#idk no thought head empty

[thatsalotofsemen]

I heard tumblr likes frögs

[the-stove-is-on-fire]

[Image ID: A quick drawing of Danny Fenton's smiling face. Above his head bright green text reads: "Danny is saved from the fact he has a brain eating amoeba, by the fact he has no brain." An arrow points to an outline of Danny's head with a glob of green ectoplasm drawn where his brain should be. Another arrow points to his brain with the text: "It's just- it's all ectoplasm." At the bottom of the page bold green text declares: "The amoeba has fucking starved." /. End ID]

[journey-to-the-attic]

one thing about ik is that she will always reach out

[iaminatree]

michael mell gets bullied by an evil supercomputer.png this is not a michael gets squipped au btw lol i just wanted to draw smth silly. anyways i love this guy forreel <3

cropped ver.

[bred-is-a-dumb-name]

Made some pfps for me and some of my friends, it's more ace attorney bc I have a problem, anyways feel free to use for yourself (with credit) !!!

[mysticalcats]

hes autistic because i said so

[yuanology]

fucking gojo satoru requires patience, not because you need it to break him but because that's what he needs in order to let himself be vulnerable.

he's the strongest, always so self-assured and the designated protector of everyone else. it's such a lonely title to bear on one's shoulders alone. once the façade breaks, revealing all of the honest, truthful ache within him, it's revealed just the sheer extent of the cruelty of instilling godhood upon a mortal body. even gods do not deserve isolation.

but gojo satoru is a god

( so treat him like one, worship him and pick him apart with all the reverence of a prayer— )

and he is a lonely one

( —so love him as if no one else will because that is so close to the truth that no one will ever want to admit. )

so you must learn patience. it is, after all, still a virtue. because gojo satoru is beautiful, and he is a god of his peers' own making, and he is in your bed, flushed and beautiful, staring up at you as if he is not the one vulnerable but rather you are under his mercy.

"relax," you murmur, voice soft against the shell of his ear. your hand skirts over the expanse of his skin, digging bruises into porcelain the way your god so adores it. satoru's voice is weak when he whimpers, head meeting the mattress in a dull thump. "let me take care of you."

"i can take care of myself just fine," he rasps out. always so stubborn. always so brave. you've always admired him for that but now, you just feel a little sad for him.

"i know," you tell him because you do. you have seen just how far he will break for everyone else but himself. you cup his face, ignore the way his lips part and he tilts his head to lean into your touch like the starved man that he is. "but you don't always have to. i can do it for you, just this once."

just this once. the words taste bitter in your mouth, but doesn't it always when it comes to gojo satoru? for a man who tastes so sweet, he leaves such an acrid taste on your tongue once you are done with him. just this once, let me take care of you.

for a moment, satoru struggles; a war waged against himself. you remain patient, you have to be. your hands wander across his body, fingers lightly tracing taut muscle and sensitive nerves. he writhes but says nothing so you keep quiet too. it's only once you're leaning in close, so terribly close to him, that he breaks.

"please." his voice is choked, soft and ruined. "please, i can't—"

"shh," you tell him and pretend that your heart isn't breaking for him. you smile at him, for him. "i'll take care of you."

"okay," he whispers. and his resulting smile is enough to shatter you entirely — it's nothing at all like the bright as the sun smiles he would give to the rest of the world; this one is soft, curled around the edges, a gentle thing, this one is just for you.

i trust you.

you lean in close, close, close until you're devouring him and he's consuming you and it's impossible to tell from where you begin and from where he ends. from then, it's all greedy mouths and even greedier hands wanting to feel more, more more.

you push him against the bed, and he goes. you leave bruises along the column of his throat, the expanse of his collarbones, the plane of his chest, the trembling skin of his thighs, and he only begs you for more. you move to pleasure him, to take him in your mouth, and he stops you.

"wanna make you feel good," he slurs out, already drunk out of his mind on pleasure and — good, for once — pain. he's conscious, he has to be, but he sounds so delirious at the same time that for just the slightest moments, you stop. "don't wanna be a man," satoru continues mumbling, "just wanna be your toy."

( something splinters )

"okay, satoru," you whisper. you pull away, leaving behind a damning bruise on the inside of his thigh before you go.

he beams at you, drunk and pleased and ruined. "prom'se?"

"i promise."

( something breaks )

so that's how you take him; rough and sloppy and borderline cruel. if you were a lesser man, this would be something you could have taken advantage of so easily. if you were a lesser man, this temptation would be enough to destroy him. if you were a lesser man, gojo satoru will be left broken and ruined and destroyed and defiled in all the worst ways.

but you are not a lesser man, and gojo satoru has always been luckier than most.

he meets god more than once that night, never long enough for him to repent for his sins, but long enough for him to stick out his tongue at the big guy. you make sure that he does. you fuck him until he's raw all over, throat hoarse from his litany of pleasepleasepleaseplease and more, i want more. please just— more and wanna be good for you, wanna be so good for you.

each time you lean in to kiss him. each time you whisper against his lips, "you're my good boy." each time you tell him, "my perfect doll." each time, he spasms around you, nails dragging along your back and screams dragging along his throat.

"thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou," he chokes out when he reaches another orgasm that night. as if it's something he needs to thank you for. as if it's something you ever made him beg for. you're still his worshipper, and he's still your god. your bed is the altar, but religion has always been in the taste of gojo satoru on your lips.

the descend from your shared highs is a slow one, indeed. he's shaking in your arms, raw and vulnerable and entirely incapable of doing anything beyond mumbling the same words over and over again — thankyouwasiagoodboywannabegoodforyou — and you hold him throughout it at all. the bed is sticky and so are the sheets, but satoru clings onto you and you can't, don't want to move.

it's silent, eventually, and you're almost certain that he's fallen asleep when suddenly he shifts. his face is buried against your throat, the bow of his lips pressed against your trembling pulse. his arms, where they are wrapped around you, are still shaking but his breathing has gone regular.

"thank you," he mumbles.

"you're welcome," you tell him into the silence of the room, above the sound of your own aching heart.

be patient, you already know this from the start, from the moment you meet his defiant gaze and you determine that you are going to take care of him because he's too busy taking care of the rest of the world. it requires patience to break gojo satoru.

but you never thought he would break because of the promise of a kiss.

[ddeck]

nighttime tcw sketchdump

[goldenpinof]

when was the last time we analysed something to this extent? it feels like years ago. dnpcrafts is truly the return of the century.

[mara-phelion]

have we ever considered that nightowl and onionthief have the makings of two Bitter Exes

doing nightowl's route and seeing the way onion acted towards both us and him felt so...telling. like it's not even them being in a full romantic relationship, any kind would've sufficed, but everyone can see an unmistakeable tension

let me paint you a picture: two grad students who like the same web novel. so different, yet one always balances out the other

emotion and logic, the sun and the moon—two people are at incredible parallels to each other that they fail to realize that they're just the sides of the same coin

onion cares in his own way, calculated and cold yet with warmth all the same. and nightowl sees that. he argues, but he sees that. until the words are too harsh, too critical, too much like his mother and her endless ways to tell him he's not enough

on the other end, nightowl is the life of the party, seriousness can be so easily pushed back in his light. and onion basks in it. he gets burnt, but he basks in it. until the sleepless nights happen and the alcohol hits, too chaotic, too vulnerable, just too much

and they break apart. who cares about what they could've been if they had only learned that they shared the same affinity for numbers? what does it matter that they both know what it's like to fear the impending doom of expectations? they're just onion and owl. too different. too much for the other to love

then here comes mc with their patience, intelligence, humor, and kindness. and just like that, old wounds open as onionthief and nightowl see exactly what they wanted and needed from the other that they never got

but mc chooses nightowl. in all his failure and broken glory, and in turn, he chooses to be better for the both of them

while onion is left to think about all the what-if's. what if he were kinder? what if he were less arrogant and cared more about him instead of being right?

left to wonder why now, why not then when it mattered just as much, not when it was him who was on nightowl's side

why he just wasn't good enough.

[geosaurus]

Organ Farmers Market

[skitskatdacat63]

Chronically obsessed with his big brown eyes, bunny nose, and sparkly helmet 🫠

[chittychittyyangyang]

It's wild to me prior to this volume people joked about "therapy island", but when met with it don't seem to understand what Ever After has been on the whole?

Being your best self, and for Afterans fulfilling your purpose, has been there from the start. The Blacksmith outright said "The only thing that can happen to you here is what you want to happen the choice of what you become and where you end up is yours to make.... You don't know what you want, do you?" Everything they ask is not a judgement of Ruby, but a clarification of intent and goals. Some people have been real literal with the weapons, but their manifestation seems to come from Ruby "Weapons are extensions of ourselves" Rose. It is both a reflection of her, and being a Huntress.

In Herb's visions (which we know are connected to the tree and the leaves), they were all confronted with their old selves, which they'd all grown from. And it can be hard to here who you once were saying you can go back, more so if you're like Ruby and view your current self as a failure who is worse off than in the past while everyone else believes they are better.

In the Punderstorm they all had to face something they unconsciously or not want to address. Jaune tells them they can just wait it out and keep moving forward so they do, him never acknowledging his younger self and Penny, Weiss taking a moment to see Atlas fall but choosing to walk away, and Ruby trying so hard to focus on the task and her friends she doesn't see Summer. Even if they want to address their problems, they aren't ready in that moment. You can't force people to address things when they aren't ready (hence Ruby's breakdown later). The bees were never forced to confess either since, again, this was something they both WANTED to talk about even if Yang was scared and Blake was going to wait until she was ready. Sometimes there's no good moment, and sometimes you're already falling off that cliff so you might as well embrace it.

The Cat, while being unreliable in their intentions, never seems to have lied about more general aspects of Ever After and Ascension. It is a good thing for Afterans that is both a death and not. The heart still remembers even if they change into something else and change their purpose, something we get to see later with the Genial Gems. You can rebuild not only yourself, but rebuild from the ashes (or flood) of a destroyed home (Weiss).

"And how would you measure 'enough'?"

"Enough" for Ruby has always been living up the the idea of Summer. To Ruby, being Ruby was never going to be enough. Ascension for Ruby is finding out who SHE is, not necessarily making a choice to change. The choice to reaffirm who you are and that you are enough is always a choice. That Ruby Rose has been, and will always be enough. That the burden that needs to be laid down is the one you've (understandably) placed on yourself out of the idea of who your mother was.

"What is it to 'Ruby Rose'?"

[deathberi]

˶ ‘ ᵕ ‘˶

[invaliowat]

I don’t often acknowledge the fact that Nick Bradshaw canonically died in Top Gun, BUT, if I were to do such a thing it would be like when I was thinking the other night (I know- dangerous) and I was like rip to Nick Bradshaw you woulda LOVED the 2008 classic movie Step Brothers.

[fluffyfangirl]

“I’m out of my head, my heart, my mind ‘cause you can rund, but you can’t hide I’m gonna make you mine”

The Wolf - SIAMÉS

(and once without the text. Return of curly hair El ♡)