#it's 2025 guys...

[unnonexistence]

ok HUGE thank you to the disability community here for teaching me how to write alt text. turns out this is A Marketable Skill & my new boss is impressed

[blueskittlesart]

knowledge long forgotten

got really into reading item descriptions on this playthrough. anyway did you know the silent princess is one of the only raw materials with a cooking effect to not explicitly list that effect in its description

[tategaminu]

Since this post blew up in other platforms (lmao, lol even) here's the squel plus Toothless because 2025 hates Chris Sanders.

[roach-works]

'can we normalize this'

'we need to normalize that'

can you all shut the fuck up for a minute and reconsider how constantly demanding normalization only retrenches the moral position that weird = bad?

like no you're not actually going to be able to normalize a lot of stuff, because it's statistically unusual or aberrant. you can't normalize shit that is not by any definition normal.

what you need to do is fucking stand up for the weirdos, freaks, and deviants, and remind everyone who is normal that their position just makes them normal. not good, not right, not correct, not better, not perfect, not beyond reproach or improvement.

being weird isn't bad. stop normalizing that, already.

[nyahsworld14]

There is something to be said about how Sinners isn't saying to lock the door on black culture and never let anyone else in. A big part of the scene of Sammie singng at the juke joint is the fact that there are other cultures involved. The chinese characters are accepted gladly and their culture is also shown in the process of looking back and forward.

In my opinion Sinners does point to the issue that white supremacy and a lot of white people who don't think they are racist like to iron over the culture they take in. Seperate it from the context and the people who created the culture until the heart of it is basically gone.

Remmick is a racist, but he also would have likely had a chance to interact with the culture in a normal way and connect with his own if he had just accepted that he wasn't the center of Sammie's music. The need to rip away Sammie's memories, talent, and culture and assimilate it into the hoard for his own gain without caring about what that culture means for the people it came from is the issue with Remmick. It is also the issue with a lot of people who want to view and interact with black culture, but get icked out when they actually have to be faced with the centuries of struggle that led to that genre of music, or dance, or hairstyle being created.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

His hips stutter, the rhythm messy now, almost frantic, like he’s trying to fuck the apology into you.

You've been fighting with him all night. Started small- he got blood on the floor. Got worse when he confessed exactly whose blood it was.

A young charming friend of yours. Sweet boy. You hardly knew him, but you knew enough. Enough to share a few drinks with him in the morning. Remmick would find out. He always finds out. You were lucky he didn't turn you the moment he considered you his own. His family. His. His. His.

"Come on, darlin’," he breathes against your ear, voice gravel-thick and cracking at the edges. "You’re not still mad at me, yeah? You can’t be. Not when I’m- mph- deep inside you like this."

He breathes hot in the crook of your neck- marks mottled on your delicate throat. A few puncture marks or two from his leftover anger, when he had you face down in the sheets. Now all that's left is his desperation.

You say nothing. Your nails bite into his shoulder, and the sharp pain only makes him moan, needy and almost pathetic.

“You’re killin’ me here,” he pants. “Won’t even look at me.” He grabs your jaw- rough and insistent, making you face him even though your glare could cut through steel. “Still got that damn attitude. Thought you were over this.” He scoffs, laughs light, like he can't believe what he's hearing. But his voice breaks.

You clench around him, and he groans like it hurts.

“Oh shit, yeah- do that again, I’ll do whatever you want. Beg if I gotta,” he growls, still thrusting hard, but his rhythm’s off, needy now. “Wasn’t tryin’ to hurt you, baby. You know that.”

You turn your face away again, and something cracks. Not in his voice- in his ego.

“You’re mine,” he spits, patience worn, pride bruised. “Look, I know I messed up," He grits out. "Yeah, I tore out his pretty little throat, but I’m here, ain’t I? Givin' you everything I got."

He's huffing, gripping you tighter when he remembers just why you two are in this predicament. You feel his claws tangle in your hair, tugging gently. Just to show you he needs you.

"Wanna know the best part?" he murmurs against your neck, lips ghosting along your skin. His voice shifting sweetly to that infuriating 'im-not-mad-just-disappointed' tone. "Got his blood under my fingernails still."

Then- without warning, he slips two fingers between your lips. Forces them in, until you're gagging around the metallic tang and sharp nails.

"Wanna taste?" He adds after the fact, sarcastic. One half bitter, one half pleased with himself.

You moan around them, eyes wide and watering. He’s still fucking you, deep and relentless, watching your face as you suck his fingers like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.

His hand slides down to your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist. The angle makes you gasp- he notices.

"Yeah? That feel good?" His lips brush your jaw, trembling. "Still mad, baby? Still hate me?" He growls out. Depraved.

You still don’t answer, but your glare is wiped- eyes rolled back into your skull. Back arched, soft whimpers around his fingers. He observes you, scans you over, and finally loosens his hold just a little.

"Please," he mutters, and it’s real this time- raw, low, like it’s costing him everything to say it. "Please, darlin’. I don’t wanna live in a world where you hate me. Don’t- don’t do that to me."

His pace slows, not stopping, just grinding deep and hard, and his lips press to your neck like a prayer.

"I’m yours, alright? Just say the word. I’ll crawl, beg, bleed. You want me on my knees? Say it. I’ll worship the ground you walk on. Forever." He pleads, hips stuttering as he tries to stop himself from cumming. As he tries to convince you this is for you.

Then, cocky again for half a second, he mutters against your neck- the one condition.

"Long as you keep stayin' with me. Just me. Just like this."

[livingfandomly]

The immediacy with which you know which twin is on the screen is CRAZY!! Michael’s acting is so nuanced that you can tell the difference between Smoke and Stack simply by the way their eyes glint…

[jurbily]

You are a fugitive on the run, not sure from what!

[gayrotic]

[kipzkitsch]

For Day 2: Role Swap

@jonmartinweek

[heph]

D3: Alternate Universe - SONIC BOOM

[bonehearts]

bad ending

[smallidarityfan]

bro let the thoughts win

[estiehowells]

“You picked a good one to come to.”

I’M FUCKING SOBBING 😭😭😭

[ugly-bug-starscream]

as promised, MERFORMER SKYFIREE

hes a bigg harp seal and i love him so so much.. him meeting starscream <3

[newliveries]

Margaret Atwood, You are Happy | Bahrain GP 2025