#tipsy posts

[elmendea]

he is so perfect in this role, I cannot--

like. look, you don't understand. I've had Sam Neill as my Círdan in my head since like...'03, '04? I was that bitch who was whining on Livejournal and moaning when the super popular LotR websites were painting the Shipwright as basically Draco Malfoy's father with silver hair (no, no kidding, I cannot tell you how many blends/photomanips I saw of beardless Círdan who looked as cold as ice, and that was like, accepted as the canon. Go straight to hell, damn). Like. I was so ready to panic about who they cast as this astounding, beautiful elf that I have loved for the longest time. Who could do better than who I casted in my head?

Ben goddamn Daniels is who.

He is so absolutely, utterly Círdan I can hardly believe it. He is this paragraph come to life: "Very tall he was, and his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars", and the way he plays him, oh goodness. I can see all his wisdom and kindness and age and longing and steadfastness.

I mean. Just. Goddamn. Like, do you have any idea how much this elf has denied his own happiness and longing to make sure his divinely appointed task wasn't just done, but done well? And his longing was like a sunset that never passed into dusk, no less -- and Ben Daniels communicated that in his performance. And took my breath away wholly.

I have fallen in love with this character ten times harder than I already was, and that, my friends, is utterly unheard of. This actor is a delight and this show is a Silmaril in the sunset. ♥

[ladyoflothlorien]

okay look I know this is Dumb and Petty and Wholly Unlikely To Happen but I really, really really want there to be a scene where Nerwen spins around and yowls "AND GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT, BITCHES, JUST GUESS WHO" at Gil-Galad because goddamn son--

IM JUS SAYIN

[charmac]

[reachthezeneth]

I need Matthew and Quinn content from tonight's game pls @ god

[columboposting]

OK not to Foxpost on main but as much as I appreciate the trope of the coruscant guard being like woefully underfunded and undersupported by the senate because they’re “not front line troops” and therefore “don’t need things like bacta or rations etc” and like I get where you’re coming from, but like…. they may not be on the front line but they are the most significant and final line of defense for the capital of the republic and more specifically the senate, who — and I cannot stress this enough — are the people who decide whether or not the coruscant guard gets money. The corries do the work of cops AND the secret service, and maybe throw in the national guard — imagine if the united states defunded the cops (seriously, imagine…), specifically all the cops that work in DC, AND the secret service because oh they’re purely concerned with domestic affairs and the security of the most essential elements of our republic, they don’t need resources. You’re talking about fucking upside down banana world and certainly not about the political priorities of a fading republic succumbing to nationalism, militarism, and fascism.

If I were a late era galactic senator, I would have funding the coruscant guard as my top fucking priority. I’d be signing off on building fucking cop city overtop of coruscant’s last nature reserve, i’d be giving them experimental bazookas and tanks and shit up the wazoo. Twelve types of alien police dog and two models from Space Boston Dynamics. Horses. Fox keeps trying to find a weapon they won’t finance for him and it’s not working, at this point he’s considering asking for a lightsaber just to see what happens. I’m not saying the coruscant guard should live in the lap of luxury or anything but they should probably have ample if not excessive access to the military resources they need to do their jobs — medical supplies, armaments, armor, etc. Because if politicians are one thing, that thing is interested above all in their own security, and the coruscant guard is literally their personal protective army, why would they not want their personal protective army to be well funded. “I’m chancellor palpatine and I’m going to deprive my slave gestapo of medical supplies so that their limbs fall off when they try to murder my enemies” come on man be serious.

[semperama]

I can't stop thinking about this. Ryliver, E, 1300 words. Yes, I'm posting Ryliver on main. No, this is not the Ryliver WIP I should have been working on. No regrets.

---

Afterward, Oliver tries to bolt, but no such luck.

“So, what did it?” Ryan asks, suddenly at his elbow. Oliver’s legs are longer, and he could probably outrun him—even imagines himself doing it—but he would only incriminate himself more. He can still play dumb, maybe.

“What did what?” he asks. His trailer is like fifty yards away, tops. But he makes the mistake of looking at Ryan, meeting his eyes, and Ryan lifts his eyebrows and pointedly looks down, and Oliver—chokes on nothing, grabs Ryan by the bicep, tugs him through a door and onto an abandoned set.

It’s Buck’s old loft, still not fully dismantled. Great.

“Was it my brilliant acting?” Ryan asks, totally unfazed. He isn’t even trying to get out of Oliver’s grasp. His bicep flexes under Oliver’s palm, and Oliver lets go like he’s been given an electric shock. “Was it your brilliant acting? Because I get it, man.”

“Fuck. No. Jesus.” He should have sucked it up and waited until they made it to his trailer. In here, with Ryan next to him, the kitchen island at his back, the stairs to their left, he still feels a little like Buck. He can still hear Buck in his head. He can hear Buck hearing Eddie—"the trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley”—and he’s still—

He’s still fucking hard.

“Was it the shove?” Ryan asks. Wide grin, pointy teeth. On their second take, Ryan’s shoulder grab was a little too aggressive, knocked him back hard into the cabinets, and in the heat of the moment, Oliver had shoved him back, chest heaving. The director let it go, but at the end of the scene, he said, let’s pull it back a little this time, and Oliver had to squeeze his hands into tight fists to ground himself, calm himself down.

They did three more takes after that, and Oliver’s dick hadn’t behaved for a single fucking one of them. And he knew—he knew everyone could see it. Knew Ryan could see it. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to get rid of. If anything, it made it worse.

“Did you not—” Oliver shuts his mouth quick, clack of teeth rattling around in his skull. The thing is, Ryan’s joking. He’s acting like it’s a joke. But Oliver’s cock is aching against the zipper of his jeans, and it doesn’t feel funny. He tries again: “Did you not feel it?”

Ryan’s canines leave white points in his bottom lip as his smile fades, goes rigid at the edges. “Feel what?”

Wrong thing to say. Suddenly, Oliver smells blood in the water. Ryan knows Eddie, and Oliver knows Buck, so the tension had to be palpable to both of them. Ryan’s not doing himself any favors playing dumb. “You know what,” Oliver says, taking a step forward. Ryan’s back is to the door. Buck’s door. “Why were we even fighting like that? Like a—a—”

“Married couple?” Ryan’s voice is light. He’s still trying to be funny, but it falls flat. His face is getting red, those perfect scarlet circles painted on his cheekbones.

“Not a married couple,” Oliver says, firm. “Not even lovers.”

Ryan’s shoulders lift with a deep, silent breath, and Oliver knows he gets it. “Like two people who don’t know they’re lovers yet.”

“Like we’re avoiding it.” Oliver sounds breathless, but he doesn’t fucking care anymore. “Like we’re scared of it.”

Ryan’s face is bright red now, and he’s not meeting Oliver’s eyes. Oliver takes another step without thinking, and he doesn’t realize how close they’ve gotten until Ryan’s back hits the door and Oliver can feel the air move when his breath rushes out of him.

Oliver gets about half a second to enjoy the upper hand before Ryan says, so quiet, “Buck.”

This isn’t their first kiss. That was right after season four, when Buck—when Oliver couldn’t stop looking at his hands and seeing red, but they knew nothing was going to come of it, and it was frustrating as fuck, and all he wanted to do was taste copper from Ryan’s mouth.

It isn’t even their second kiss, which was drunk and sloppy, after they were done filming the bachelor party.

But it’s the first time—after Ryan hooks his index fingers in Oliver’s belt loops and yanks—that Oliver feels Ryan hard against him, and he’s confronted, suddenly, with the fact that this isn’t a whim. This isn’t just BuckandEddie. This is licking a muffled groan from the seam of Ryan’s mouth and wanting to taste nothing else ever again. Wanting to leave this room and still remember it, still have it.

“Say it again,” he says against Ryan’s mouth, but he kisses him again, hard, before he can. He reaches down to peel Ryan’s hands away from his waist and threads their fingers together, presses them against the door by Ryan’s head. “Say it.”

“Buck,” Ryan says. “Buck, Buck.”

Oliver’s been hard for-fucking-ever, for hours, off and on, at this point. When he thrusts up into the cut of Ed—Ryan’s hip, it feels like relief, a little shower of sparks cascading down his spine with each roll of his hips. Ryan tugs one of his hands free and grabs a handful of his ass—huge palm making Oliver gasp—and pulls him in harder, and Oliver starts preparing himself to be embarrassed, because this isn’t going to take long at all. Hours of foreplay. Hours of Ryan’s low voice stroking against the pleasure points in his brain. Hours of trying to keep it together, and now he doesn’t have to.

“Eddie,” Oliver says, just above a whisper, but Ryan lets out a breathy sound that’s almost a laugh and nips at Oliver’s bottom lip, sharp sharp teeth, soft flick of his tongue.

“Ollie,” Ryan says, almost back to playful again, and that’s it. Oliver is gone. He pushes his hips against Ryan’s once, twice more, and then he’s coming in his pants, dropping his head to gasp against Ryan’s shoulder, his spine curling.

Ryan’s broad hand is still clutching at him, still pulling him in, and he’s vaguely aware of the little explosions of oversensitivity that are sending tremors through his legs, but it’s fine when Ryan is holding him up, huffing hard in his ear, then groaning as he follows Oliver over the edge, saying Oliver’s name again in that deep, rough voice that’s been torturing him all evening.

“Fuck,” Oliver breathes once it’s over. His face is still pressed against the meat of Ryan’s shoulder, and his hands flatten against the door to hold himself up, to keep himself from sinking to the floor like he wants to.

“Mmm,” Ryan hums, as if in agreement. It takes Oliver a minute to realize his shoulders are shaking—with laughter, he realizes. Not regret, at least.

“What is it?” Oliver asks, lifting his head enough to look Ryan in the eye.

“It’s just—” The color is still high in his cheeks. Scarlet red. His mouth is red too, and Oliver wants to kiss him again so badly. “It’s just, costuming is gonna fucking kill us.”

Oliver dissolves into giggles, and his knees dissolve too, but Ryan holds him up, pulling him in until they’re pressed together everywhere, impossible to tell where one of them ends and the other begins.

“Come to my trailer,” Oliver says. “We’ll change, and I’ll take everything to the dry cleaners in the morning.” They’ll bring all the clothes back in a couple days, pretend they just forgot to turn them in, and no one will ever have to know.

He and Ryan will know, though. Ryan tilts his head up to press their mouths together again, quick but firm, and Oliver breathes him in, the familiar scent of him, the familiar shape their bodies make. The two of them will know, will always know, now, and that’s good. That’s so fucking good.

[kettlefire]

Last Hope (SuperPhantom)

Danny knew it was stupid. He really did, truly. He just didn't really have many other options, okay?

The moment he saw that sleek muscle car come rumbling into the parking lot of the shady motel, he knew it was a horrible idea.

It was truly the worst thing he could think of, but again, what was he supposed to do?

He was injured, his core struggling to keep up with all the new weaponry he had been hit with. He was aching in places he never thought could ache.

The world was against him, or at least the part of the world that knew about him. The government despised him, and he was only in for more pain and torment if he got caught.

So yes, when he caught the scent of the car. Iron, sulfur, rock salt, and blood... it didn't take a genius to figure out those two large men were hunters.

Now, Danny didn't have much experience with the layman's hunter. The ones that were well spread on every type of creature and not just ghosts.

He also knew that his kind of ghosts were less known by the average hunter. So, he had a shot, right?

Danny might actually have a chance to heal if he can just fly under the radar long enough. If he could keep these hunters oblivious to his presence, than all would be good...

Right?

Right.

So, Danny didn't have much of a choice. He figured it was time he pulled a Technus. He possessed the car. Danny didn't like that word, but that's exactly what he did.

He nestled his core near the engine, a spot he figured would be safe, and spread the rest of himself throughout the frame and mechanics.

And it worked!

...

At least for the first day. He managed to hitch a ride into the next state over. Danny thought he was actually going to get a break.

Listen, Danny wasn't used to hunters being friendly with supernatural beings, okay? How was he supposed to expect the sudden appearance of an angel!

An actual angel! Something he only heard about through Clockwork. Never once saw one, or interacted with.

So when this strange, winged, trench coat wearing man appeared in the backseat of the car, Danny felt. He felt the power and presence immediately.

He felt all his hope drain away the moment the man opened his mouth. The first thing in reference to Danny currently hidden inside the car.

His cover was up. Especially of the way each man suddenly got tensed said anything.

Danny's supposed safe haven might just be his down fall.

[machveil]

Don't think about a Konig that has a smidgen of confidence due to everyone telling him his crush is down bad for him, and also maybe a little liquid courage, walking up behind them, loud enough to where they can hear him but not so loud that they turn around. Don't think about him gently reaching around to set his fingers on their throat, not a chokehold but just resting the tips of them on their skin, tilting their head up to make eye contact while unintentionally giving them bedroom eyes. -🐸

I’m definitely not thinking about that 🐸 anon… but if I were to—

CW: mentions of sex, masturbation (König), Tipsy!König, real Loser!König energy with this one ngl

can you really blame König when people notice how smitten he is with you? he can hardly help it, Maus. the poor man looks like a lost puppy following you around base! can you blame König when you smile up at him, talk so sweetly to him - it’s not his fault that his heart twists with affection and heat settles in his gut when you’re around

he’s just absolutely taken with you, someone who treats him - the feared and respected Colonel, a man who towers over everyone at KorTac - with seemingly unconditional love? well, König thinks it’s love, whether you’re feelings reflect that or not. he’s so starved of affection that simply looking in his direction gets his palms sweaty

he can’t help it that his teammates, let alone other soldiers, catch on to his infatuation. he’s oblivious to his own behavior - constantly staring, trailing behind you - looming over your figure, trying to get your attention. it’s almost comical watching the man crush on you

and he’s crushing hard. he can’t get you out of his thoughts - how cute would you look wearing his shirt? what would you look like sitting on his lap? would you like his room? his bedsheets? what’s hidden beneath his mask? can you really blame him when he’s under his covers thinking about you - strained against his boxers despite his desperate attempts to sleep

hearing your voice is enough for him to get him hot and bothered, and when you’ve touched him in passing? he’s thankful the mask hides his flushed cheeks, if only he could stop his blood from flowing south. it’s innocent — your fingers grazing his when you pass something to him, but the contact has his veins on fire! just that fleeting moment, barely feeling your skin against his, has shame burning in his chest as he palms himself

would your hands feel soft against his - wrapped around him? would he be able to smell your shampoo if he held you close - face pressed to your neck as he ruts into you? it feels like he’s been submerged, sounds muffled like he’s underwater, he’s drowning, being pulled under by thoughts of you

it all comes crashing down like waves when he lets out a strained gasp - he’s coming up for air as he ruins his underwear. if only it wasn’t a regular occurrence, the thought of your thighs around him, nails digging against his back

but, when König hears that you like him? he’s nearly shaking down the soldier he heard it from - wildly seeking confirmation that it’s true. his jaw practically goes slack when he’s told it’s common knowledge around base - it’s not, a few soldiers thought it’d be funny to prank the intimidating Colonel that has an obvious soft spot for you

it’s really not his fault, Maus, not when those soldiers talk about it like it’s a fact, lying through their teeth with their full chests - maybe it’s their confidence that sells König, or maybe it’s that burning hope flickering in his chest. he wants to say something to you, he needs to hear you say it - and he wouldn’t be able to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth

Ich liebe dich

but he can’t, not with his heart pumping - the sound ringing in his ears. his nerves are set on fire again, different this time. and unlike when he’s alone in his room, putting the embers out by hand, he turns to liquid courage

he’s half a bottle deep before he decides he can do something, just a push to make small talk. that all flies out the window when he lays eyes on you - dressed in civvies, walking away from your friends and pulling your phone out. he’s already crossing the threshold, legs moving with a mind of their own

the soft thud of his boots against the floor go unnoticed by you, too distracted to care, or too used to the idle sound of chatter and people moving around. suddenly, veins that were running hot feel ice cold as he stands behind you, eyes half lidded as he brings his hand up

a gruff chuckle rumbles in his chest when you jump at the contact, his palm pressing to your neck. fingers carefully wrapped around your throat - he groans a little when he feels you nervously swallow, thumb grazing your jaw. “Liebling.”, accent thick, whether it’s from the booze or not, the need in his voice is evident

pointer finger tucked under your chin, he carefully nudges your jaw upwards. head tilting up, he ever so slightly squeezes your throat - icy gaze cast down at you, a satisfied hum resonates in his chest, “I think we need to talk, Maus, ja?”, voice low as he cocks his head to the side

”Mm, such a little thing—“, he coos, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb halfheartedly placed against your cheekbone, “Die Dinge, die ich mit dir machen möchte, Süße.”, he softly murmurs

he catches the confused glint in your eyes when he speaks, your eyebrows knit. just when you’re about to question him - are you okay? König, what’s wrong? you’re cut off before you can even speak. “Oh? You don’t understand me? Das ist schade.”, he tuts, lightly patting your cheek

“Why don’t we practice some German, ja?”, smiling under his mask, he gently tilts your head back a little more, “Speak for me. Say ‘Ich liebe dich’ for me, Maus.”

[onlygirlaliveinnyc]

wanna sit in liam's lap while he fucks up into me god

[theballadofthesunandthestars]

It’s kind of infuriating how good Apollo’s arc is in TOA. Like, why am I crying tears of pride over the piss boy? Get your bisexual ass out of here.

[boimlerkisser]

Ok uhhh...Brea's hyperdrive suffers some kind of cataclysmic failure that sends her on a jump ALL the way to another version of her universe!! The one that was made by Aardman 😂 she's on coruscant, but not HER coruscant, and with her drive busted all to hell she's gonna need some help repairing it

And space Wallace, you know him, he falls in love so easily! He sees this tall, graceful jedi lady and is immediately smitten

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @flowering-darkness @sunstar-of-the-north @changeling-selfship @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @tropgothships

@little-miss-selfships @starlos-soulmate @limey-self-inserts @candyheartedchy @space-sweetheart @clancykisser @squips-ship @berryshipbasket

@soulnottainted @homevideorentals @severants @tex-treasures @sparkyscissorhands @iwishihadfangs @fictodreamer

[starrystevie]

eddie’s going on a tinder date with a cute guy named steve.

he likes his freckles, brown eyes and cheeky grin. they don’t have much in common but the conversations they have in the app messages flows suspiciously easily. he’s a bit in love and antsy at the table as he watches the door anxiously for his date.

he sees person after person walk into the bar and his beer is dripping condensation onto his hand as he grips it, nerves shooting through the roof. eddie glances at the table and then back up to the door when a guy walks in and if eddie wasn’t waiting for his date, he’d want to go talk to him.

he’s cute, hot even, floppy brown hair and a charming grin, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looks around the bar. his shirt clings to him in just the right way and his jeans fit him a bit too perfectly. eddie can’t help but stare and then the guy is staring back while he waves, ducking his head as he walks over.

“hey, eddie,” the man breathes out, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “sorry i'm late. parking was a bitch.”

and eddie’s confused. because this guy has brown eyes but not the ones he expected. freckles that are more spread out and distinct, trailing down to his neck instead of blanketing his face. his smile is perfect and he’s looking at eddie like he knows him. eddie’s a bit stunned, gaping at the guy with a slack jaw, because he’d remember someone as handsome as him if they’d met before.

“…hi?” he says like it's a question, taking a sip of his beer to do something with his hands.

he watches as the man’s eyebrows crease in confusion and the way his shirt stretches over his chest as he takes off his jacket. “it’s- i’m steve? you are eddie, right?”

eddie can feel his own eyebrows raising, wiping off his damp hand to fish his phone out of his pocket. he quickly finds steve’s profile, ignoring the messages they've sent each other over the past weeks that leave his stomach filled with butterflies, and pulls up the profile picture steve uploaded.

looking at it closely, he glances at who he thinks is steve, at the freckles dusting over his face and the toothy grin he's flashing at the camera. he's not exactly they type eddie usually goes for, but he's witty and sweet and knows about dnd, apparently, so what's not to love?

but then he looks at the other person in the picture that's slightly out of focused next to ‘steve’. looks at the two moles stark on the side of his neck, his pink tinted cheeks. the floopy brown hair and the pretty brown eyes and-

“steve?!” eddie exclaims, looking between the man in front of him and the picture on his phone. “you’re steve?”

the guy- steve- grins sheepishly, leaning on his elbows over the table to look at eddie’s eyes phone. he’s close, too close, close enough that eddie wants to-

“ohh,” he says and scratches at the back oh his head, eyes downturned with a blush trailing up his neck. “yeah, maybe i shouldn’t have used a group photo for a dating app.”

“so who did i think you were?”

their eyes meet and even in the dim bar light, eddie finds himself falling into the specks of green he sees. steve looks at the phone quickly then back up with a smirk. “my best friend, tommy. he’s kind of an asshole, though. you’re better off with me.”

“is that so?” eddie leans back, taking a sip of his beer, and really takes in his date that he now knows is steve. his toned arms, his broad shoulders, his pretty pink cheeks and pretty pink lips.

“what, are you disappointed?”

steve smiles gently and it lights up his face in a way eddie isn’t expecting. between the way he looks in a dingy bar and the way talking with steve is easier than any date he’s had before, he can’t imagine what disappointment he could ever possibly feel knowing that his date is who he is.

suddenly there’s a foot hooking around his ankle and it sends goosebumps tingling up his spine. steve’s smile softens just a bit and eddie can feel himself mirroring it back, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“i don’t think disappointed’s the right word.”

crossposted on twitter!

[ghostbarbiesworld]

You pick me up from my girls' night out. I'm visibly tipsy and high. You're making fun of me, playing with me. Suddenly we stop, and you look at me with a look that scares me. I know what's going to happen. You're going to use me, and that's exactly what I want.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

anyone else get cuteness aggression whenever they see james mcavoys charles….. like i have to pace around the room everytime i see him (your art is not helping. /pos)

i can think of one (1) mate who also gets cuteness aggression

[satans-knitwear]

I don't suppose you guys would want.... Some gifs?? Perhaps?? 🥺

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[raspberrypossums]

I think about the fact that Kremy probably learned or thought he could only trust himself and no one else but slowly over time Gid became the exception to that. It went from always looking out for himself to always looking out for himself and Gideon

In every escape plan, every get away, anything, even when he’s like cursed to not trust anyone, Gid’s always an exception to that

Like theyre so inescapably tied together

They make me ill