screw-me-byou

[skysgalaxy]

Anyone know or have protective Leia towards Luke fics?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[fartshitpiss]

[billskaarsgard]

"The incredibly annoying guy in front of me with the staring problem".

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[blackkatdraws]

No girlbossing for the Narrator today! Just babygirl hours 💗

also thigh highs supremacy 🛐

[sophsun1]

There's one thing Pittsburgh has that Hollywood doesn't...

[captainhysunstuff]

@lawlightweek2024 Day 2: Soul mates (sort of)!

L runs into a newly brandished Detective Light Yagami at a park, and the two easily reconnect~.

This wasn't my original plan for this prompt, but I still wanted to get across that these dudes just kind of... belong together, y'know?

[moongothic]

MY BLANKET OF DARKNESS HAS BEEN COMPLETED

✨👁️✨ I AM SO COZY NOW ✨👁️✨

So I started working on this blanket around June of 2022. Got like, maybe half-way through the blanket and then the yarn I needed for the blanket went out of stock at my local yarn shop. Now I didn't know the yarn would be completely unavailable for like 6 months (until the stop closed permanently), so I just kept on waiting, hoping for it to come back in stock-- but it never did, so in January I finally looked online if I could find the yarn elsewhere and I did, I got the yarn I needed, and finished the blanket. So it kinda took me 6 months to make this blanket but also not

What made this blanket a truly exciting and fun project for me is that this has been the first blanket I actually made for myself and designed for myself. Like I've enjoyed every single blanket project I've had so far, but having a blanket that's Just For Me is just. It's nice

I originally planned the granny squares out digitally because I wanted to have a fun pattern of different granny squares, something that wouldn't be too busy looking and was carefully planned, and here's what I came up with

I had two versions of the square pattern, one with moon phases right in the middle of it and another without them. I do like how the moon version looked and part of me kinda regrets not making that one, but I'm not sure the moons would have really gone well with the eyes... So I did go with the first version

(Sidenote, it's not on the pattern above but I added extra rows of just black squares at the top and bottom of the blanket, so there's two rows of black instead of just one)

(Sidenote 2, although I knew I wanted the blanket to be mostly black from the begining, I wasn't entirely sure what accent color I wanted to use, it really was depending on what colors the shop had available. Like I used yellow as kind of a default color since it worked nice with the stars and eyes, but I could've gone with some other color too. In the end, because I didn't like the color options for the yarn at the shop I ended up going with a yellow anyways) (Also I tested out a reverse color version with the pastel purple and white base and no eyes, just for funsies, it looks kinda neat)

But yeah, that's how the planning of the blanket went.

The blanket is made of 231 squares in total, 11x21 rows. 186 of the squares are plain black, the rest are patterned. The star squares were the worst to make because of how many strands of yarn I had to weave in, 0/10, would not reccommend.

I used the Cedro 100% wool yarn (reccomended hook size 5, 50g=100m), and it took me about 38 balls of yarn to finish the blanket (including crocheting all the squares together and doing a single round of double crochet around the blanket to finish it off)

This is literally all the yarn I have left from this blanket; one untouched ball of black and three partially used balls.

I gotta admit.

I'm kind of shocked by the size of the blanket. Like I very carefully measured it to make it the exact size to fit my bed, and it fits perfectly. But I'm still kinda shocked how big it is. (Which is why I didn't make the border of the blanket any bigger, even though I could've with the yarn I have)

Also

It's HEAVY

Like, of course it's heavy, it's 100% wool and thick, but MAN I didn't expect it lmao

But that kind of makes it perfect for cold winters especially, it's super warm and the weight makes it cozy- like who needs a weighted blanket when you can have one of these lmao

Now I just need to figure out how to protect the blanket from being covered in my white cat's hair...

[pastafossa]

"Don't Let Go" (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for Day Six of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! I chose the angst prompt, "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." with Michael Kinsella! I originally planned to use all three prompts (the above plus 'love bites' and 'spread your legs for me') but this one just sorta worked beautifully focusing on the angst prompt alone, despite my plan. May come back and do a sequel with the other two prompts eventually. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, blood, injury care, mention of reader briefly held hostage, language, mention of domestic violence, some shouting and breaking things (Michael is very angry here, just not at you).

His hands shaking, Michael cleaned you up in the bathroom.

You weren’t sure if that tremor was due to fear, or… or exhaustion, maybe. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the past two nights while you’d been missing, held captive in an abandoned building by a group of men who’d been looking to blackmail the Kinsella family. It hadn’t worked out well for them based on the dead bodies you’d seen when Michael had grimly carried you out past his brothers, his hands stained heavily with blood and smelling of fresh gunpowder. 

It was those hands—the very same hands that had so recently dealt out death and destruction—that now tended gently to your wounds. With barely a word save a soothing murmur whenever you winced, he washed away the crusted grime and dried blood from your body in the shower before settling you down on the side of the porcelain tub. Once you were comfortable, he set about cleaning out and bandaging the bloody cuts on your hands and face, the torn skin on your wrists left by the handcuffs, and the burns along your forearm from the cigarettes one man had decided to put out against your skin when you’d spat in his face.

With every injury Michael cared for, however, the more his hands shook, his breathing growing sharper, hissing out from between his clenched teeth. 

No. This wasn’t fear or exhaustion making his hands shake, you realized. This was… 

He rose from where he’d been kneeling in front of you. He stared down at you for a moment with those dark eyes of his, taking all of you in for the first time since bringing you back home—taking in every last swollen bruise and vicious cut, every bandage and mark of pain left behind by those who had wanted to harm his family by using you against him.

…This was rage.

He snatched up the first aid kit, turned, and hurled it with a furious scream. It shattered against the wall in the hall, its impact leaving a crumbling hole in the drywall. Gauze and ointment, bottles of pills and splinters of plastic scattered left and right.

“Michael,” you said weakly. “I’m ok now.”

It was as if he hadn’t even heard you. “I’m goin’ ta find the rest of ‘em and kill 'em for this!” he snarled savagely, his accent even thicker in his fury. Gone was the gentle lilt, the familiar softness he always seemed to gain in his voice when he spoke to you or about you. Now he was every inch the dangerous Kinsella that so many feared, though not you. Never you. Even now you weren’t afraid, despite the way he whirled and paced wildly in front of you, as if looking for the very same ones who’d so recently hurt you. This was rage in your defense, and that made all the difference. 

“Michael—”

“They think I can’t find ‘em?” he spat. “They really think I can’t? I’ll hunt down every last fuckin’ one’a them filthy little cunts fer puttin’ their hands on ya! By the time I’m done wit’ em, there won’t be enough’a their fuckin’ bodies left for their mams to bloody bury!”

This time it was the drinking glass on the counter that paid the price. It flew out into the hall to shatter violently against the wall just beside the mark left by the first aid kit. Glittering shards of glass, some pieces still damp, joined the rest of the debris on the floor.  

“Michael.” You heaved yourself upright on shaky legs, wobbly as a newborn fawn. And it hurt, it hurt to move, cuts tugging, body aching. You tried to blink the dampness away in your eyes, not now, come on. “It’s alright—” “Don’t tell me it’s alright when they hurt ya!” he roared. But the moment he swung back around to face you and saw you on your feet, he spat out a curse. He stormed across the bathroom before you could take more than a step. “Daft woman, sit your arse back down before ya fall over!”

One hand still braced against the wall, you lifted your other arm quickly towards him. He lurched to a stop before he could touch you, an expression of horror twisting across his face, all furrowed brow and parted lips. Only then did you realize what that must have looked like to him—your arm held up to fend him off, trying to stop him from coming towards you, tears in your eyes as if you were… as if you were terrified of him and what he had been doing. 

Gone in a breath was the rage, the fury, replaced by a gutted, heartbroken grief. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have said he was about to cry, too. “Ya didn’t think I was goin’ to…” he whispered, swallowing hard and taking a cautious step back. “I… I swear, pet, I would never—” 

“God, no, Mikey. I know you weren’t going to hit me,” you croaked, trying to put your arm out again in a more welcoming way, and if your breath started to hitch, tears now beginning to roll down your cheeks despite your best efforts, well, surely you were entitled to that, because it had been a horrible few days and the longer you stood here, the more you began to shiver and hurt. It had only been a few minutes since you’d been in his arms, but your body clearly wasn’t ready yet for even that much separation. Emotion welled up inside you like a dark wave, endless, bottomless. You were terrified you’d drown beneath it without him to help you keep your head above water. “I was trying to… could you come over here and… and hold me? I just need…”

He caught you just as the first choked sob tore its way out of your throat, the strength of the sound so violent, so raw it almost frightened you. One of his arms quickly wound around your waist, pulling you in against the comforting, familiar warmth and strength of his chest. His other hand rose to gently cradle the back of your head, bringing your head down so you could bury it against his neck. He rumbled low, soothing notes into your ear, tender words of comfort as you desperately tried to breathe in the scent of whiskey and leather, gun oil and rain between your heaving breaths and broken sobs.

“There ya go. Shh, I’ve got ya now, pet,” he whispered, laying his cheek against your hair. He shifted the two of you carefully across the floor until he could ease himself down on top of the toilet seat, pulling you slowly into his lap. You went without a fight, clinging to him, the fabric of his shirt held tight between your fists as if it were your lifeline. “I’ve got ya now. Let it all out. I’m here, darlin’. Yer safe with me.” 

“Don’t let go,” you choked out, “Please.” “Never. I promise.”

[calware]

thinking about doing a month-long event for the homestuck tumblr community to encourage people to make + post fanworks as well as reblog other people's fanworks.... where people can opt-in by being randomly assigned one of two teams (probably red and blue) so that each team has roughly the same amount of members. teams get points for making fanworks and having their posts reblogged, which encourages people to make posts and also reblog the posts made by their team members. and the top 3 people in each team to get the most points get some kind of reward... hmmmm

[murderthegods]

One thing I really like about I Saw the TV Glow that I don't see people talking about is the specific tone that "there is still time" takes on in it. Lots of people talking about that line ofc, but I see everyone talking about it as though it's unambiguously and only a message of hope.

The obvious thing to take away from "there is still time" is of course that you can still save yourself. As long as you haven't died yet, you still have a chance. You don't have to die like this. You can still live your life. And that's not not the point of the line ofc, but I'd argue it's missing something, and that's that you haven't left yet.

This is the movie about the fear of the known, the horror of there being no monsters, the fear of waiting. And in that context, a message of reassurance that I can afford to wait a little longer is awful! I don't want to wait any longer! I know I'm going to wait for as long as I can, but I want out! Obviously it's better than not having any time at all, but only because that would be the train hitting me. "There is still time" means I'm standing on the tracks like a deer in the headlights, and the train might be miles away but I can see it and I can feel in my bones that I can't move yet - or that I won't - and a voice tells me that I'll be fine, I can afford to stay on the tracks a little longer, it'll be fine, I'm not dying yet, it's fine, there is still time, but every second I still have time is a second I still can't breathe.

I've lived my entire life haunted by deadlines and the lack thereof, and to me the phrase "there is still time" contains just as much dread as the rest of the movie. If there weren't any time, then I could just, I dunno, power through it. I've written enough essays the night before, it's not fun, I hate it actually, but as long as I still have time I know from experience that I'm not going to do it yet. If I were on my deathbed then I could just make my dying words "I was a girl the whole time" and I wouldn't have to deal with any of the consequences because I'd be dead. In a way, that's the easy way out. Which, y'know, is the whole point! If I wait until I don't have any time left to start living, then I almost may as well have not done anything! That's what the movie is scared of.

I do actually have time, it is genuinely fine if I don't do anything right this second, or tonight, or this month, but how many years do I want to let that add up? I don't want to spend another year like this, much less ten! The scary thing isn't the idea of "dying like this" - how I am at the moment of my death is almost immaterial compared to how I am in all the years I'll have before then! The scary thing is every day I spend being like this, and none of them individually are all that scary but all of them is terrifying! I can't believe that I don't have time because it's not true and because then I'd be so paralyzed with fear and despair I wouldn't do anything, but if I actually fully believed that I did have time, I'd do what Owen did!

The more I think about it the more odd it seems that people are latching onto the phrase "there is still time" as a message of hope. It is pretty objectively a true statement in this context and it's even pretty inarguably hopeful, but it's also kinda obviously a phrase that can only be meant to encourage inaction. The point of it is that you don't have to do anything (yet). In a movie that we can all see is clearly about how you need to do something! It's created a fascinating environment where people say "There is still time, so go on hrt today!" seemingly without spotting any contradiction! If there's still time, I may as well start tomorrow, right?

Yes, if you don't believe you have time, if you believe your life is already over, then you're probably not going to do anything to improve it, but equally as much, who would ever take a risk to improve their life now if they think they have all the time in the world?

[omo321]

“Are you crying?” Fina exclaims in alarm. Tsurumi is equally startled when he wipes at his face and his hand comes away wet. Not once had he shed tears, not even when he’d lost them. Pulling a chair up to him, Fina dries his cheeks with soft dabs of her handkerchief. With her hand on his shoulder and her beautiful, bright eyes soft with more love than Tsurumi can bear, she waits for an explanation that he cannot give.

gnawing on "theatre" by Saengak again... it's free serotonin to me

[trashartgalleries]

Why do people not like bottom male reader content bro!!!!!

WHY DO YOU PEOPLE WANT TO TOP ALL THE TIME?!?!?!?!?!?

WHY WON'T YOU ALLOW ME TO HAVE A PENIS; I ALREADY HAVE A VAGINA?!!?!??

I TIRE OF FILLING THE VOID!!!! 😭

[babacontainsmultitudes]

So it was established in the last episode that Taylor still believes in Santa (tbh I wouldn't be surprised if it's come up prior to this ep too but anyways-) so... Do you think (saint) Nicky been has portalling in every year since the betrayal to sneak in a gift for his son amongst the pile? That Cassandra doesn't even notice because it's just one among the many many presents she herself has bought and wrapped? But every year without fail... Taylor gets one gift that simply says "from: Nick" and well, obviously that has to mean it's from Santa (a conclusion which Nicky expects him to come to, and why he can sign his name at all, though he misses when he could just write "dad"). And one year when he's still quite young, a sleepy little Taylor actually catches Nicky in the act, and Nicky wishes more than anything that he could just *stay*, but instead he only softly tells Taylor to go back to bed, and Taylor thinks that Santa is a lot younger and a bit sadder than he expected, but what's he gonna do- not listen to Santa Claus? So he smiles meekly at the man he does not know to be his father, and hurriedly heads back to his room.

Also yes of course Nicky eats the fucking cookies left out of course he's not gonna pass up on free cookies (which are home-baked to top it off) come on that's a given.

[dreamshaxd]

It's all started with drugs.

o7