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#nope shut up
athamad · 1 year
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I was in a tiktok comment section like "l love Odysseus sm l wanna eat and gobble him up" and this mf comes out of nowhere like "B-b-b-b-but! But he's a narcissistic egoistic war criminal adulterer! " Like first of all; no he isn't read that book again, and second; IDC HOMIE he can commit manslaughter and say he was feeling a little silly and l will STILL defend and love him till the end, period. I love my crime lovin dilf ok? Give me a break 🙄
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pyrachan · 2 years
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3 reasons, 3 spooky mysteries and a guy called 3
I made this for Yugioh Go Rush episode 6 a few weeks ago because I love the Flatswoods Monster. I mucked up III but I’m pretty happy with this overall.
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emkini · 1 year
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I think about Zuko and Ursa a normal amount
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luna-lovegreat · 1 month
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Guys stop saying Malon is pregnant- what if she is when the only time Time was at the ranch in the last few months was when he brought the boys
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to-be-a-dreamer · 4 months
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Junior Year might actually be the scariest D20 season my fight-or-flight instincts were INSTANTLY activated the second Brennan said the word "MCAT" because that's the name of the actual real-life American medical school admissions exam and hearing that with absolutely no warning did not mix well with my "grew up with parents who view getting into medical school by 22 as the bare minimum of academic achievement" brain
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doublel27 · 16 days
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Something something every time Ongsa messaged Sun as Earth, she imagined them chatting in a field, and then they shared their first kiss in a field.
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soukana · 1 year
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It occurred to me that in MC the camera most often reflects Jim’s gaze. We all knew Mix was gorgeous but he has never looked quite THIS good. Every shot of him is long and lingering, graded blue, exquisitely lit, and holds him in a central focus that makes him seem fragile and ethereal, like a night blooming flower. Of course, this is because that’s how Jim sees him. His gaze is so infatuated with Wen the camera can’t see anything else.
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Gaipa by contrast is almost always shown in neutral light, with broader focus and other characters coming in and out of the scene. He doesn’t hold the camera’s (Jim’s) gaze the same way. It’s fascinating to me because the camera work is the only thing that’s really telling us that he feels platonically towards Gaipa and romantically (or at least sexually) towards Wen. Only because we viewers get to peek inside Jim’s head do we know what’s up here… Wen and Gaipa by comparison know much less. It’s even unclear to what degree Jim himself understands his own feelings.
It’s also a hint into a possible conflict in the future: with Wen in his orbit constantly pulling his gaze, how is Jim supposed to look at anything else?
Poor Gaipa. Love at first sight is tough to beat 😔
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restinthewest · 1 month
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What do you do when a loose dog surprises you and your unfriendly-to-strange-dogs-dog when you’re chilling outside your house? You step back and hope for the best!
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igotsnothing · 2 months
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Beginning/Previous/Next
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nicollekidman · 11 months
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sydcarmy is soooo like yeah isn’t it annoying that half your soul is walking around being mad at you and pushing you to be better smh
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ventiswampwater · 1 year
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invasive
bo sinclair x afab!reader
rating: explicit
wordcount: 941 
Reader POV. Your dreams take you to different places, but you’re never too far out of reach. 
EXTREMELY dubious consent as always. Mostly weird prose, but there’s some smut thrown in here as well. Somnophilia, cockwarming. 
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A/N: It’s been raining for nearly a week straight where I am. Every single day has been grey. This idea burrowed into my brain and now I’m inflicting it upon you. Similar vibes to poacher’s dream. I just...really wanted to write something that reminded me of the feeling I was trying to capture with that fic. Somnophilia’s been on my mind ever since I read this absolutely electric fic by our lord and savior, @visceravalentines​. Definitely go read it if you haven’t already. It features a lovely man who is not at all like the one in this fic. We should all make out with him instead, probably. We won’t.
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You’re lost in a quagmire of green, knee-deep in muck.
You’re running from something, but you aren’t sure what. You feel like it must be close. You can hear crashing, the sloshing of something at your heels. The water is dark here, it’s deep. You need to watch where you’re going, but you won’t. It feels familiar.
Maybe, if you push a little further, you’ll reach the edge of the marshland.
The trees crowd around each other, their bulbous trunks bursting out of thick green algae. It’s so dense here, impossibly heavy with warmth. It soaks through your clothes, bleeds under your skin. If someone sliced you open and cracked your bones apart, you’re sure you'd flare hot. Chalky white and exposed, scattering chunks of marrow over the swamp. 
Things end up here when they have nowhere left to go. They get caught in the hanging moss and become part of the scenery. 
You’ll make a mess of this place, but it won’t matter. There are animals here, bigger than you, and they’ve been waiting. You couldn’t ever run very fast. These kinds of games are about losing.
It wasn’t behind you, anyway. It caught your ankle underwater and pulled you down, tumbled you underneath its weight. You’re spinning wildly, rolling and churning, filling your lungs with water (but it’s so hot here, and you like that stuff).
It’ll play with its food until your neck snaps. Trailing blood in the water, dragging you back to a den squashed in the mangroves. A place of dead things, hobbled together out of reeds and a dozen people’s bones. You wonder if they sparked like yours, if they’re kindling too.
Your body is perched on top of a waterlogged tire and hid away until it starts to rot. It makes it easier to eat when it’s soft like that, when the botflies come. Practical things are sometimes the cruelest.
God, you’ve never been anywhere this hot.
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You wake up with your face pressed into the pillow, huffing out shallow breaths. The room is bathed in pale light, milky grey with the faintest wash of blue.
The grey disorients you. There was so much light before. You blink a bit in the gloom. Water is still rushing away above you, beside you. It’s impossible to tell what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. It feels like forever. You lived and you died long before you were spat out here.
Out of the heat of your dream, you’re surprised to feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. You must have thrown the sheets off in your sleep. The position you’re in feels unnatural, one leg hoisted away from you. It rests on something solid, something warmer than this room.
You feel so full (of water, of bugs in your belly eating away the soft tissue, of life).
Stop, look at the window. You’re not underwater. It’s raining, dripping tears down the glass. You’re awake again and the fullness is the pressure between your legs.  
Bo’s hand cups at your breast, jiggling the flesh to test its weight in his palm. He catches your nipple between his fingers, tugs at it. When he rolls his hips, you let out a soft little noise, mouthing at the pillowcase. His cock pulses inside you, thick and warm. 
He’s already so deep.
“Couldn’t help myself.” He murmurs into your ear. “Not with you movin’ round like that.”
His hand wraps around your thigh, easing you down. You let out a whine as you feel your walls stretch around him. He hisses out a breath, digging his fingers into your skin.
“You’re so wet, baby.” His voice is husky, the rasp of sleep still thick around his words. You can feel how slick you are, how easy it is for him to push in. “What were you dreamin’ ‘bout?”
“You.” You’re not lying, not exactly. He doesn’t need to know the specifics.
It’s the right answer, or, at least, the one he was expecting. You’re never really sure with him. It doesn’t matter, really. Your dream is getting away from you now, chased away by his hands and his lips and his cock. You were somewhere. He was there. You remember heat, you remember weight. 
(Or maybe that’s all there is now and you’re getting things confused.)
“Thought you were tryin’ to kill me, baby.” He nips along your neck. You clench down around him, moaning into the pillow. “Asleep, squeezin’ me like that.”
Good, you almost say. If I wrap myself around you enough times, you can’t breathe. Neither can I, but I only need to do it once. 
People get rid of snakes, throw them off into the swamp. They’re not supposed to be there. But this looks enough like their idea of home, doesn’t it? They’ll adapt or they’ll get eaten, and that’s all you could ask for. 
His breath is warm on your skin. You reach back, your fingers curling into his hair. 
“You ready to stop teasin’ me?”
(I couldn’t stomach you if I did. I’m not supposed to be here, anyway.)
You almost ask him if he had the same dream. Was it hard, waiting for the rot to set in? Waiting for softness? Did you taste better like that? Would he do it again if you asked him to? Could you return the favor?
Your hand tightens in his hair, giving it a sharp tug. His teeth are on your neck and it hurts in the way it’s supposed to hurt—scorching away inside you.
You’ve never been anywhere that hot, but maybe he has. Maybe he’ll take you there.
“Yes.”
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the no spoiler rule in later ace attorney games is stupid because it never followed up on the gavin brothers, thalassa gramarye, locked beloved characters in the basement never to be seen again, etc etc etc but the missed potential that i havent been able to stop thinking about is that the phantom should have been callisto yew from investigations.
like. an assassin/spy from a foreign government? murdering the parent of a weird little girl and then framing said weird little girl for murder seven years later? who is a genius at disguising themselves as other people and worming their way into investigations?
like just change some stuff about the psychology profile of the phantom. like instead of having no readable emotion they force themselves to experience extreme emotions when putting on a front. like giggling uncontrollably. the way callisto yew does. idk it's not a very hard fix the opportunity was RIGHT there but they couldn't do that because theyre not allowed to acknowledge the investigations games existed ever.
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stinkman007 · 9 months
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me when the horror movie i watched speciificallly because it looks scary actually freaks me out
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ghostsessioned · 2 years
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y’know what jean jacket’s roar sounds like ? the sound heard around the world. the trumpets. the angels.
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eliraillustre · 7 months
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"It starts, as it will end, with a garden"
Here's how it looks like at night 🥰
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all-that-jazz-93 · 6 months
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Gonna watch The Mummy for the first time tonight
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