#this guy is a LOSER

[outkast777]

Loser alert

[v-extreme-diminuendo]

Ugh...i drank too much yesterday...i feel awful 😞 For how much i like alchohol i should buy something for hangovers, i can’t keep doing this.

But i can’t drive my car to Yokohama to get some medicine in this situation :/ it’s like drunk driving. Hangover Driving? Yeah.

[gritappreciation]

first post!! does this count as a fanpage??,, just, weekly grit. am i a fan account like those k-pop (/nm) accounts now??

[brettoncarterquotes]

Bretton Carter harasses women and calls them bitches on the internet

This is someone's father. And this is how he spends his time. Harassing women who don't know him and calling them bitches.

[villagesong]

people criticising the world-building in bottoms as if that wasn't the entire Point. it's supposed to be stupid and silly. the classes are 10 minutes long, their textbooks were all burnt conveniently, no-one has parents except hazel, nobody gives a fuck if jeff's car burnt down or if they killed a bunch of guys, etc etc. it's supposed to be silly in the way shitty romcoms usually are! and it fucks so

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[minecraftstevebabygirl]

I was just trying to feed him but apparently he was feeling a bit sassy

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

do u think he has a shot

[cemeterything]

to this day i think one of the best writing decisions the magnus archives made was making it explicitly clear that your bloodline made little to no difference to whether you would develop any kind of connection to the entities and their powers. even so-called "avatar families" either had to produce multiple heirs in the hope that at least one would be inclined to continue their work (like the lukases) or end up with imperfect messiahs despite all their efforts (like the cult of the lightless flame), and in most cases being born into that life only made you more at risk of ultimately rejecting and/or being consumed by it. there was no direct runs-in-the-family line of succession ending in the perfect chosen one. even generations' worth of preparation and legacy-building could be brought to an end by a single act of defiance or doubt. it's the perfect theme for a podcast all about choices and their consequences.

[monteruu]

johndave nation rise up

[image id: 2 digital illustrations of john egbert and dave strider from homestuck.

first image: various scenes of john and dave. top left, they are drawn very simply holding hands with text under them saying "the pepsi and the cola". to the right, john is hunched over dave and kissing his cheek while dave has his sunglasses pushed up looking embarrassed and has his arms around him. they are wearing each other's respective colors (blue and red). center of the image, john is holding dave around his waist and looking up at him with a goofy face and dave has his legs around john and looks vaguely annoyed with him. in the bottom right corner john is smiling and doing a peace sign.

second image: various scenes of john and dave again but in various forms of their godtier outfits. top left is them sitting down and john has his hand on dave's shoulder. dave think off to the side "wtf is he yappin about" while john says "matthew mcconaughey!". behind the text is a small collage of images of matthew mcconaughey. to the right, dave is flying towards john with both of their arms outstretched as they greet each other. bottom right, john has a wide smile as he presents a very small dave squished in his hand. bottom left, they are sitting hunched with blank expressions and an "..." between them. end image id.]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lap Pillow

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[hualianschild]

oh they def had this conversation before

[sunsburns]

I was wondering what oral sex with Luke Castellan , would be like I really like your writing a lot.

y’all need to send me more brain rots cause 🥴🥴 phew [nfsw 17+]

with luke, you already know it’s hot, wet and loud. and maybe a bit rough around the edges where his nails dig into the skin of your hips, or he’s holding you so tight that light bruises are painted on the plush of your thighs, or when he likes to suck and bite on the inside of your thighs, leaving marks for you to find the next morning.

basically... he’s a munch!

he’s so eager to please you and make sure you’re enjoying this as much as he is. giving you head is like, a fixation of his, strangely enough. and it’s nice to think that he loooovveees to moan and spit at your cunt, making such a big mess while he grinds against the covers to find some kind of release at the sounds of your moans. especially when you pull at his hair and scrape your nails against his scalp. he’s a sucker for that shit.

he’d go at it until his jaw locked. even when you’re squirming and whining and crying out his name, it all spurs him to keep going, maybe even adding a finger or two into the mix while he tugs at your clit with his teeth and lets out the most erotic groan you've ever heard, making you even wetter than before, if that was even possible.

“one more. you can give me one more, please,” he’d mutter against you, only pulling away to look up at you with his beautiful brown eyes and pouty lips covered with your slick. how could you possibly deny him what he wants? when he's looking at you so pretty?

oh yeah, you give him whatever he wants, and you take whatever he gives you because you know you’ll get the chance to return the favour sooner or later.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More random Nimona headcanons

Bal is one of those people who isn’t allergic to anything except one random medication that no one uses 

Ambrosius calls him a lucky bastard every time it’s brought up because he’s allergic to everything 

His allergy list is at least three pages long and he doesn’t remember a single thing on that list 

Whenever they go out to eat Bal has to remind him “No you can’t eat that it has olives” “Not that either love it’s got lemon” and so on 

Most of his allergic reactions are pretty tame so he’ll eat it anyway

And it gives Bal and Nimona so much fucking anxiety 

One time Bal walked in on Nimona chasing Ambrosius around the kitchen yelling “Spit out the carrots Nemesis you don’t even like them that much!!” 

Whenever he eats alone he refers to it as a game of Russian roulette 

Bal refers to it as the reason he has high blood pressure

Because Bal and Ambrosius grew up in the limelight (for very different reasons) there are a million pictures of them through the years 

And they use those videos to bully the hell out of each other 

Bal can quote the video from the beginning of the movie not because it was an important moment in his childhood 

But because Ambrosius will quote it at the most random times throughout the day

Bal will do something small like kill a bug or chase out an animal that Nimona brought in

And he’ll hear Ambrosius mumble “I’m here to slay monsters and protect our kingdom”

He was a little worried Nimona would react badly to this habit but he started joining in 

One time he killed a spider and Ambrosius asks “Are you slaying monsters moonbeam?” Nimona yells from the other room “I’m so proud of him he’s truly protecting our kingdom” 

There are a million photos of baby Ambrosius on the internet 

And Bal made a PowerPoint presentation ranking their cuteness factor out of 10 (100 was the lowest score he got and it was a picture of him with the ugliest bowl cut you’ve ever seen)

And made Ambrosius sit through it 

That was the most loved and mortified he had felt in a long time

Nimona uses low-quality pictures of them as reaction photos 

There have been times when Nimona asks “Can we eat out tonight” and Bal tells her no and she sends him this 

He’ll text back “Is that my fucking wanted poster?!” 

She asked Ambrosius if there was any ice cream left and he said no he expected her to call him and complain he didn’t expect this 

He calls her yelling “When the fuck did that happen?!” 

And she hangs up immediately to let Bal deal with it

[chiptrillino]

...older Fire Lord Zuko with a sheer top and his tits out you say?

ID: three drawings of aged-up zuko from Avatar the last airbender as fire lord. on the left side a full body of zuko front view. In the middle, zuko from the waist up leaning over a cluttered table growling and spitting flames at the viewer. In the third image on the right, zuko from the waist up sits bored and exhausted in his chair. cluttered desk and paperwork in front of him. End ID

I probably did advertise the sheer top wrong! it's more like a robe! just… a bit seethrough… because… you know… self-indulgence…? for me… ? for us? (yes he only has one lense in his his glasses becasue we in the fandom just know why!)

art-blog: chiptrillino-art

[detox2retox]

richie: ahhh you mad 😂😂

pennywise: ahhh you gay 😂😂

richie: