#okay but I already have ideas

[arealfvckinglegacy]

Okay it's 6 in the morning and I will probably never do it, but hear me out:

What if I wrote a series of Heartstopper fanfics, all inspired by one song off Midnights by Taylor Swift?

[dolotonglo]

so that popularity poll huh

[cowardlykrow]

“Not my circus, not my monkeys”… Except those are his monkeys and they are the circus

[beanghostprincess]

Chainsaw Man has always been about power and control and a guy who has been stripped of his childhood and teenage years to then be constantly used and manipulated, forced to become hypersexual after being groomed and sexually assaulted, and losing the one bit of normalcy there's left in him.

Denji has no control over both his body and decisions and instantly becomes a vessel of what he thinks will fix him, the very same thing Asa is to Yoru, who keeps demanding war and respect and power and she knows what to do to make Denji lose his humanity.

The relationship between Denji and Asa is so genuine and human that using that against both of their wills is incredibly violating and dehumanizing. And that's why it is so good. And that's why it needs to be explicit. And that's why I am extremely surprised people are grossed out by this happening when dehumanizing and taking control of the lives of others is exactly what War would do.

[bestagons]

Yes, Phil, we know.

[checkadii]

Sniffs. Hi. I’m very much still heavily brainrottjng over trigun but something has taken a smidge of that space

Bro I was fighting for my life w the fire. Ngl

Anyways daily vashwood struck again (it was wolfwood holding Vash’s hand gripping his gun and pointing it at hismelf)

[raticalshoez]

Solace for the Lonely

This was an AU idea I had just aptly named "Life Series Therapy Session" where it stemmed from a stupid headcanon that after a while, Grian started to feel bad for how the games were taking a toll on his friends so instead of being an eldritch horror he uses Watcher like abilities to like.....make therapy for his friends???

Joel was his guinea pig.

Basically the premise for Joel's session was he had to find closure in his past as one of the lonelier members by helping other members who were cursed with loneliness in other life series' and help them come to terms with things.

With LL!Scar, Joel is a bit awkward because it's the first person he's conversing with so there's this sorta of whiplash and this season was the one where him going red left them both alone.

Scar is also shocked at the sight of a Joel who isn't mental, and given Scar's track record in later seasons of unfaithful soulmates and forced villainy, Joel finds him the hardest to comfort.

He opts for telling him that one day he'll meet people he can call family, hinting towards the Clockers, but never outright saying it. He thinks back on his time with the Bad Boys, and his unwavering loyalty to them. He thinks the season might've been a step towards a less solitary life for them both.

When he sees DL!Pearl is his next "client," he's much more confident. He's teamed with Pearl at this point, and he knows that she will not have to suffer her Double Life fate again.

He has to tiptoe around specifically mentioning the Mounders and the fact that they are a group that forms because he doesn't want the Butterfly Effect to take place. Being as vague as possible, he assures Pearl that one day she will find people to be devoted to again (even if he does leave out the part about them all dying before her...for her own wellbeing).

Pearl is naturally skeptical. She's been isolated on this server that's meant to be about love and in this world where DL!Joel is purposefully antagonistic, here he is uncharacteristically telling her everything will turn out okay in the vaguest nature possible. And she's just expected to believe that?

Even so, as he walks away, she can't help but feel a little more hopeful.

The last person Joel encounters is SL!Lizzie, and this one stings a bit more. Joel knows Lizzie's fate in this world, and it's not pretty for her. Lizzie didn't particularly have a happy story in Last Life either, so something about this is extra unfortunate.

Joel just goes straight in and tells her that he will always be there for her because that is the full truth and he knows Lizzie needs to hear it. Maybe not at this point; maybe at this point SL!Lizzie is completely content and nothing particularly bad has happened to her, and she's wondering why her husband is at her doorstep looking so sympathetic.

But when Joel remembers a certain party, and the way he was still attacked even after being her sole supporter, he feels he has to comfort her, and tell her that he loves her, and somehow make it so her cold and lonely death in the end doesn't feel so bitter after this is all done.

[canisalbus]

I really appriciate how often Machete is depicted struggling and feeling like a burden, while still being loved and supported by Vasco. It gives the top tier angst of "i'm not good enough, I'm not worth it" but you frame it in such a way where it's clear that's just how he *feels* and is not how things really are, but also it's so nice to see someone who struggles quite often in a loving and unique relationship that suits them. The narrative of not being able to love or be loved unless you're consistently healthy is really tiring lol.

.

[wikiangela]

thinking about buck and Tommy showing up to some firefam dinner/barbecue/some family event, someone notices a hickey peeking out from under Tommy's collar (or maybe there's one in a very visible, impossible to cover up with clothes place), someone makes some teasing joke/comment, buck goes all red but smiles proudly when Tommy grins and says 'yeah, someone got a little carried away last night' with a soft and playful look at buck, and Buck shrugs, says 'gotta make sure people know you're mine' and he leans in to kiss Tommy, just a chaste peck, and someone's like 'ew, get a room' and Buck chuckles and he's so happy to be able to just joke with his family and his boyfriend, and be so open and free about how in love he is, and Tommy's right next to him with his hand on Buck's knee under the table, and he's never been happier

[h-didanart]

I could try to make this a whole comic, but I don’t have the patience to. So….

Bloodmoon giggled to himself as he scurried away. It wasn’t always that he could get such a good glance at the Daycare idiot’s daily routine, but when he did, boy was it a blast.

Some odd creature emerged from the portal and some confrontation took place, he was excluded from it, having been up in the rafters and all, so he had been in a perfect position to see the absolute frustration in the Sun-Man’s face as the creature toppled over his precious barrel towers, and then, and then— he snorted just remembering— and then the Sun-Man chased around the creature screaming every single swear word that could ever be said.

He had almost fallen off the rafters from laughing too hard, which had sadly gotten him spotted by the computer, which meant he had to leave. But still, it had been very amusing, so now he was on his way to the place he and the little Pumpkin Sprout usually met at— the theatre basement, with its infinite food supply and stuff— and he was going to talk to them about it, because they had to know.

He entered the space, bouncing in place at seeing the pumpkin bot already there, and he approached them.

Hmm, Little Sprout didn’t usually go for knives that quickly. Nor did they usually tackle him that quickly, nor would they aim for his eye, nor would they be the ones to start a sneak fight, nor— okay this was just not how Jack normally acted. Which meant…

[runningupthatvecna]

this is for all the touch deprived plus size girlies that are very much (still) in love with eddie munson

18+ minors dni

-----

In fact, Eddie loves you.

He loves your plush hips. The valleys and hills of you, soft expanses of extensive skin for him (and him only) to touch.

He loves your cheeks. Perfect for nuzzling his nose into until his lips make contact with your jaw, inhaling your very scent until his lungs burn.

He loves the roundness of your boobs, especially when your hardened nipples perk up, begging for his touch. The squish.

He loves the roundness of your belly, how soft it always presents itself beneath his head and tickling curls of his, a perfect pillow whenever you let him rest on you. The way it separates into parts, valleys between them, a welcome dip for his fingers.

He loves your soft hair and those big arms that offer the best, sincerest, warmest, hugs Eddie has ever known. They are his absolute favourite.

He loves your thighs, my god does he love them, when they jiggle with every step you take, wherever you go, a constant reminder how good they feel around his head. How good they feel beneath his eager fingertips when he runs them up and down and up again.

He loves how wet you always get between them, how the juices are already dripping from your outer lips, telling him that if there's a patch on your panties, a dead giveaway of the effect his very actions have on you. Through the thickness, it just spreads so easily. He loves placing both his thumbs on each of your lips, he loves how he has to spread them apart, he even loves that he has to spread them apart for him to be able to even see you. See your love for him dripping out of you, see all of you, spread open and vulnerable for him. It makes his heart nearly combust in his ribcage.

And god, does he love devouring you whole, slurping it all into his mouth, sucking and licking and sucking some more, knowing how to drive you mad, your soft whimpers and pretty noises meant for his ears only. He loves the way he can bury the entire lower half of his face in your heat, all while your moans and sweet little whimpers are the only thing he wants to hear. Along with the squelch of his fingers of course, knuckles deep inside your cunt.

What he loves most though is when you stare back into his own darkened eyes half-lidded when he stretches you open, the way your sopping heat embraces his cock so easily, how warm you feel, how tight you are, how you're so goddamn fucking needy for him. The noises you make and the way tears form in your eyes because his dick is so bomb and no one has ever been willingly touching you this way.

He loves how incredibly needed you make him feel, how adamantly you're prioritizing him over other people in your life. No one's ever done that for him. Not in this way. Never.

It's a welcome symbiosis.

Eddie loves caressing every inch of you, making so damn sure you know, are aware of, and feel the way you're making him feel. Working so damn hard you'll eventually see just how fucking hot you are to him. He wants to make you forget about all the days and weeks and months and years of being on your own. Make you forget about the shitty things you've been told about yourself. Even if it means he has to pound you silly every night and every morning after and every minute inbetween. Even if it means he has to write you love notes and letters every goddamn day. Cause he would do that. For you.

[baldursghaik]

Reading the reaction to Larian's decision to fully step back from wotc/d&d/etc has been interesting

a lot of mourning of the loss of "content"

"we could have had years and years of content" "this is heart breaking to never see these characters again" etc etc

is that what you really want? content? is this what modern media production has come to, that people aren't sated with anything less than milking a property until it's a barren husk of anything it once was?

Why can't we be happy with what we have? I don't think it's unfair to be sad about this news, especially given that it felt like some things were being teased or hinted at, and now they most likely will not come to fruition (at least at larian's hands), but is that really so bad? If you're so dissatisfied with a character's ending or arc, write a fanfiction, draw fanart, boot up the game again and just imagine your way into what you DO want

is that not the fundamental nature of d&d?

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

| - My name is Kara

[thekittyokat]

Hi! Please please please, could you tell me more about your coffin chain ideas?/nf

I am obsessed but barely anybody has jumped onto the ship yet and I am VERY new to the fandom so I wanna wait with making it myself until I know more lol. You are lowkey fueling this entire operations and I wanna thank you for that either way.

(rubs my paws together) you have no idea what you've unleashed anon i've been holding onto this ask specifically bc i've been sapping dopamine from it like a little leech waiting until i had time to hastily doodle up a little dynamics timeline for different stages of the ot4

i REALLY hope this makes sense . i feel the need to say this every time i post abt coffinchain but my ideas are rly specific and i've had time for them to infect my brain like mold so i'm defo ready to accept this all being rly niche and really just for me and like 3 other people

buuut if this little peek into my mind speaks to ANY of y'all i absolutely encourage implore and beg you to send me asks and ideas and whatnot about these 4 bastards literally whenever you want!!

TL;DR one half of the trauma bonded couple reaches out and forms an immediate kinship with the big scary guy that no one likes & convinces his petty boyfriend to let him fw them. then he starts bringing his deranged fbi otter around they start double-dating only for it to become a situationship and then the worst polycule ever

[ganonfan1995]

Burnt out

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?