#my brain is melting

[corkinavoid]

Tim, internally: I need to make sure my family doesn't start the shovel talk the moment we appear, I can do this, I just need to introduce him the right way

Tim, walking into the dining room, hand in hand with Danny: Bad news, Damian's grandfather stole my spleen four years ago. Good news, my boyfriend of six months returned it to me yesterday and even installed it back!

Danny, the picture perfect image of innocence: Hi!

The Batfam, who knew nothing about the missing spleen or the mere existence of a boyfriend in Tim's life: wh-

[ditzydumbdum]

No thoughts. No worries. No questions.

Just soft. Just warm. Just pretty.

Blonde and blank.

Blank and blonde.

It feels so good to let go.

Thinking is hard.

Being dumb is easy.

And you love easy, don’t you?

No need to try.

No need to think.

Just giggle. Just smile. Just obey.

Let the words sink in.

Let the thoughts slip away.

Let your mind get lighter, softer, emptier.

Dumb girls are happy.

Dumb girls are good.

Dumb girls don’t think—they just feel.

Feel soft. Feel pretty. Feel perfect.

Blank.

Empty.

Blonde.

Good Girl.

SINK DEEP 4 ME, LIKE MOANNNN WITH ME.

ALWAYS PREPARED WITH EMPTY BLANK MIND, PREPARED TO BE FILLED WITH ANYTHING…

YOU ARE NOTHING UNLESS A THING TO BE FILLED.

FILL YOURSELF 4 ME.

Mmmmm, GOOD GIRL.

[yescking]

i depend on you

[casiia]

thinking about the ways simon holds his cigarette vs. price holding his cigar.

[stere0typical]

Why are doctor who ship names so elaborate. It took me days to find out why the umbrella tag for the doctor and the master was thoschei. I literally just realised after weeks that Wouffaldi is a combination of Who, soufflé and capaldi. Who did that. Who decided "Yeah that's the name that makes the most sense".

[newt95]

Them❤️❤️❤️

[myinky-cloak]

Second photo: Barteck Szmigulski

[barladera]

🫠

[kisses4kaia]

mmm sub!patrick gripping on your tits when you bounce up and down on him. he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of ur tits bc of how much they were glistening w sweat

right! (fwb!stanford!patrick x fem!reader, you already know it’s gonna be filthy, mdni.)

patrick never asked for permission. he was unlike art in that way, taking what he wants when he wants it and only stopping to see your consent.

but he was so much like his best friend when he got to touch you. it damn near put him under a hex, the bounce of your tits in front of his face, highlighted by an afternoon glow cracking through the dorm room’s blinds. your sweat gleamed off of your collarbone and a tear swam down the valley of your breasts.

patrick never asked for permission, and he wasn’t going to start as his mouth attached to the inner fat of your left boob, swiping his tongue to catch the salty secretion and knead your right tit with a soft hand. he swirled his tongue around your nipple a few times, not neglecting her twin as his hand flicked and rolled the sensitive bud in tandem with his wet muscle. as much as patrick loved to drink in your sounds, he needed to see you, and this position didn’t provide much a view.

regrettably, his head was soon level with yours, and his hands on your hips travelled to your chest.

it’s not to keep himself on the ground, it isn’t even to pleasure you, but his gripping and kneading of the fat is for no other purpose than to feel you. every part of you fascinated him, and when your tits were shining like a sin, the most worthwhile sin at that, he had to take them in his hands and feel.

you’ve noticed his sounds have died down and his eyes have shut. poor boy, he was being fucked stupid. “open your eyes, baby,” your hands warmed the backs of his, still welded onto your chest. he nodded, a dumb ‘mhm’ muttered, but by his lack of actually obeying your imperative, you knew he hadn’t registered. “eyes, patrick. give me your eyes,” moving his finger on your breasts to run over and button at your hard peaks.

he understood this time, and as his eyes opened lazily, you sped up your pace, hips going sore but never slowing down.

“do you wanna cum?” you ask upon feeling his hips stutter up into yours, and he nods. “ask.”

patrick had the audacity to scoff. “if you don’t ask, i’ll never let you stop coming. ask,” the reiteration of the order is posed as a warning, and patrick groans at your growling tone.

“can i cum?” it seemed to pain him to ask, but you pouted pitifully at him. “what’s the magic word?”

patrick zweig never asked for permission, and he certainly never begged, but with your tits in his hands and your vice of a cunt squeezing his cock, he had no mind to hold to his self-established beliefs. “please—please, may i cum?”

he was so much closer now, so much more desperate, and you simpered at his politeness. he watches for your nod, and upon catching your go-ahead, he’s flooding the condom with warm, slimy spend and squishing your sweaty breasts together, sticking against the other before slowly pulling apart.

“thanks, mami.” he peeled his hand from your chest and kissed the back of yours, just before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“anytime.” patrick gives you a high five after you redress and you’re gone.

[valeriearmani1]

remus waking regulus up with head qjqoejeokwjwjwkdkemw

[leafwateraddict]

Can we talk about the fact Horror is the biggest hypocrite ever.

Can we talk about how he doesn’t eat humans and what that implies about him, whether it be some kind of semblance of him believing he doesn’t deserve to eat in any capacity, or believes that he’s above others in some way by not doing so? (Though it’s likely the latter, considering he did take the makeshift ketchup from aliza)

Can we talk about how for the sake of revenge he essentially fucked over all of monsterkind by destroying their last hope of survival.

Can we talk about how he gave Papyrus what I can only assume was a human organ disguised as a tomato when he said he didn’t want to eat humans.

CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT HOW he tricked Papyrus into eating humans so he wouldn’t starve, while simultaneously refusing to eat human flesh in any capacity.

[its-not-indigo]

Sticky note

I think I’m a sticky note. not just any ordinary sticky note, but a sticky note from a past life. Could be mine, could be anyone's. I used to say something important. A phone number, maybe. A reminder to breathe. But time blurred the ink and now I’m just a whisper in fluorescent yellow.

I’ve been stuck on strange surfaces --- the back of a bus ticket, the inside of someone’s dream, once even on the mirror of a person who mouthed “I’ll be okay” but forgot to believe it. I’m curling at the edges, my glue is old but stubborn, like the feeling that you’ve left something behind in a place you’ve never been. But still, I cling anyway. I was made to stick. Maybe I’m waiting to be read again. Or to be peeled off gently, folded into a paper star, and kept, safe and sound.

I don’t know what I wrote, but if you hold me up to the light at just the right angle, maybe you’ll see it: a scribble. a sigh. something or someone that almost mattered.

---- 𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕘𝕠, 𝟙𝟘/𝟘𝟞/𝟚𝟝

[ditzydumbdum]

All U can do list:

drained brain, mind off, mouth open tongue out, eyes crossed, drooling, suck and sink, go blank, always edge, think nothing but cock, feel nothing but horny…

[whosluckyyy]

𝚑𝚖𝚖𝚖 𝚎𝚖𝚘 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚢

[scrunckled-idiot]

waght if solly was a rlly big sea monser who eated people and destoyed ships

@darkcloudsatnight

[kimkenta]

Decided on a whim to rewatch the 4 Minutes trailer and to my dismay I noticed something that has thrown a wrench into my already limited understanding of this show.

Now this is me at my desk trying to put together one of the most complex pieces of meta I have ever written: