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#he’s already exhausted
easypeasylindyvesey · 1 month
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JAMES MICHAEL VESEY IS ON MY SCREEN PT 2!!!
and y’all-
i’m actually sweating
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userjiminie · 10 months
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"all the solo work is just a journey to get back home safely" — kim namjoon bangtan first solo tracks of ch. 2 + favorite lines
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lowpolyshadow · 10 months
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forced to once again remember how shadow is laughing when he says "i think i figured out what the ultimate lifeform is! it might be you!"
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leafwateraddict · 6 months
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Him again
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neverevan · 2 months
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9-1-1 SEASON 7: FAVORITE MOMENTS ↳ part 16/?
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yennao · 2 months
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Decided this place doesn’t have an Older Danny that’s fucked up enough. I need him heavier on the ice powers. I took it upon myself to start cookin.
Here’s a 28 yo, depressed, technically homeless, absolutely miserable ghost who continues to protect amity park with the same love he always has.
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honey-doc · 1 month
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It’s really interesting to me how Kabru isn’t hiding how uninterested he is in Laios’s monster talk ever since he learned how to be candid while being alone with Mithrun
Before:
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After:
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nookisms · 3 months
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Oops. It's a second headcanon compilation!
Don't worry, the next one will be back to our normal schedule of regular text posts and not headcanons
Masterpost
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shima-draws · 3 months
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Also can we PLEASE talk about Sanji's facial expression when he realizes there's an entire army on their way to attack his captain and he can't do shit about it
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crybaby-bkg · 5 months
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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?
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tswwwit · 9 days
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(for a proper idea of my emotions, please picture this said while crying happy tears)
after who knows how long waiting for a new reincarnation to appear, taking the time to let cult dipper settle in and calm down, bills hard work and dedication to manipulation finally paid off! he gets to finally cuddle and sleep with his husband again!
You know Bill's mentally giving himself a pat on the back and congratulations for his own cleverness. Getting this flighty little traumatized guy to hold still for a hug has been a whole ordeal; it's about time it paid off!
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lazybakerart · 1 month
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House: Wilson - Wilson:
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eclipseshotel · 2 months
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Me busting into Elder Predator’s chambers to chew his ass out after he ignored my gauntlet call six times in a row (he was taking a much needed old man nap)
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dazachi · 2 months
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It's far more common to have Dazai simping for Chuuya stories and arts, and I get it, coz like c'mon now, it's Chuuya! Dazai canonically simps when Chuuya can't see or hear him anyway lol, but because of this, whenever I see fanfics or fanarts of Chuuya simping for a change, they automatically get bonus points to me, especially when they bring up Dazai's inability to handle genuine compliments and concern like a normal person.
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haystarlight · 1 year
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You want me to teach you Cosmic Frontier quotes to impress Hunter, don't you?
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kedreeva · 2 years
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hello i’m sorry, i’m so sorry (I’mnotsorry) but has anyone written about the scars Steve is definitely going to have in a thin ring around the base of his throat from the demobat’s tail?
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Those aren’t just bruises, in the first image you can see raised, damaged skin. Abrasions at the least, from the demobat gripping and shifting and sliding as it tightened its grip. Filthy abrasions, too, being from the Upside Down. Animal injuries are dirty. I have scars from YEARS ago that were small scratches at the time, discolorations now. I was scratched by a goose once when I was 10, and that minor injury remained lashed over the back of my thumb for well over a decade. I have thin, pale discolorations of my forearms right now from over 8 years ago, made by a the slip of a bird’s foot. A small circle between my pointer and middle finger from when I was bitten in high school, 20 years ago by a rescue parrot while I was helping out. Animals, even our mundane ones, have bacteria of all sorts that can become minorly infected and cause healing to take longer, to cause scarring to form. I can’t even imagine how much worse an injury from something in the Upside Down is.
I’ve seen fics where they talk about the one on his side, but these are the delicate ones I want to see mentioned. These are the ones I want to see Eddie touch with reverence for the horror of it, with respect for the fear that had come with them. The ones I want to see Steve draw in a too-quick breath when they’re touched, because he remembers the rough tail wrapped around his throat, dragging him down to his death, strangling the air from him. The one that bit him hurt him, this one made him panic, if only briefly. This one made him vulnerable to the others. These are the ones everyone is going to see, day to day. The ones he has to live with constantly instead of only with himself. The ones he’s gonna touch, himself, absently.
and i’m just curious if anyone else has written about them, or if I’m gonna have to do it myself
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