there should be an oscar category called “movie my dad completed without falling asleep on the couch” and it’s more prestigious and contentious than best picture

what ultrakill means to me alt

another one that I'm not super happy with, but continuing to mess with it isn't going to help! so here he is! 🦇 there was a lot I was trying to get across in this one, so uhhhhh hopefully it reads.

we're almost out of unique magics now...just Ace (and maybe Grim?) left!

the big dick nerd!eren drabble did so good so here’s some more!!!!

let’s discuss his first blowjob shall we. the whole thing started out pretty innocent just a lil makeout session bc you were becoming incredibly bored of the movie you were watching (love & basketball—his choice surprisingly). he just looked so pretty w his hair in a neat bun and black glasses framing his face so perfectly how could you not wanna jump his bones??? eren felt your hand trail up his thigh towards the place where he needed you most and felt his blood run cold, “just let me see it renny please? ‘feels so big i have to see it,” you purred squeezing eren’s dick over his sweats. “o-okay yeah a peek wouldn’t hurt would it?” he chuckled breathlessly, pulling his sweats down mid thigh and you were met with the biggest erection you’d ever seen in your life straining against the soft material of eren’s briefs. your silence began to worry eren and just as he was about to pull his sweats back up you wrapped your dainty hand around his wrist stopping him, “don’t be embarrassed baby i wasn’t thinking anything bad i was just…..admiring it,” you smiled pressing a kiss to his blazing cheek. “o-oh—uh okay it’s not too small or anything? do you think i could make you—um f-feel good with it?” he asked his eyes wide with wonder. you moved your body in front of eren’s and laid on your stomach, your feet swaying in air dreamily. “i think it’s more than enough—in fact i don’t know if i’ll even be able to fit it all in my pussy you’re just so big ren,” you fake pouted, flicking your tongue out to get a taste of the pre staining eren’s briefs. before eren knew it his entire dick was sheathed down your throat, your spit with a mixture of his precum dripping down your chin and onto his aching, full balls. “yes yes t-that feels so good y/n. do that thing with your tongue again please—fuckkkk yeah mhm mhmmm,” eren whimpered clutching onto his bedsheets for dear life. he’d already came two times—the first time happening just from you suckling on the tip but you didn’t mind at all. not one bit.

imo everyone needs to have an album (or two or three) that’s like a vital organ to them . like an irrevocable part of who you are

Me when I'm on a writing streak: I am my best self, the muses stoke my mind like a great engine, lets see if I can blast through another five pages before bed.

Me when I'm not on a writing streak: There is sand where my words should be.

At some point a gal has so many posts labeled “Harry Du Bois coded” saved on her phone that she starts to think she might be the problem

Bros before Ho(oh my god is that Hanguang-Jun?)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

lautski on the bus

Attention

Can we talk about Magnus in Harrow the Ninth? Because there's a tendency to paint him as this constantly cheerful figure and he's not - he's just very Fifth.

He's the only person who seems even slightly upset about the whole gun-toting horror thing:

“Did the Sleeper get them?”

“Only by assumption,” said Harrowhark, while Abigail’s dolt of a husband said, “I bloody hope so.”

“Magnus,” Abigail said, a touch disapprovingly.

“Well, if the Sleeper didn’t, that’s two maniacs with an ancient weapon and a love of blowing off faces, dear,” said Magnus.

And he's got a very low opinion of Silas:

"She won’t tell me what he said to her, just that he ‘was horrid.’”

“Cheeky little so-and-so,” said Magnus. “If he were my son, I’d give him something to think about. I’m not surprised he’s gone to ground.”

“I would hope your son might be of different character,” said his wife, half-smiling.

“Protesilaus should have biffed him.”

“It’s strange,” said Abigail, ignoring her husband’s exhortations to biffing.

Behind the jolly Jeeves and Wooster-esque talk of biffing people, let's remember that this is Magnus - who from Gideon's POV never saw a teenager he didn't want to adopt - earnestly wishing that a grown man had hit a 16 year old kid.

And when Harrow explains that she thinks she saw him jump to his death, Magnus isn't particularly sympathetic:

“We should have made him a greater priority,” said Lady Pent.

Magnus said, “I’m not certain.”

and

“We didn’t need him,” he said bracingly.

Abigail said, “We need everyone.”

“I never thought he was quite the thing.”

This "never quite the thing" line is the same one Abigail uses when she says Ianthe shouldn't have become a Lyctor and you get the sense it has a quite specific meaning on the Fifth. You get the distinct feeling Magnus is saying "good riddance" in response to a teenager's apparent suicide.

And then of course there's Magnus' conversation with Harrow as the River bubble collapses, as Harrow debates whether she should leave her body to Gideon:

She said: “If I go back, it will finally destroy her soul.”

It was Magnus who stepped forward and looked at Harrow face-to-face. And perhaps she felt that more keenly: that he was the man who had, in Gideon’s own words a lifetime ago, been nice to her cavalier. His mouth was hard now, but his eyes were as kind as they had ever been. And kindness was a knife.

He doesn't pull any punches in laying out his understanding of the situation to Harrow:

“This whole thing happened because you wouldn’t face up to Gideon dying,” he said, which was a stab as precise as any Nonius had managed. “I don’t blame you. But where would you be, right now, if you’d said: She is dead? You’re keeping her things like a lover keeping old notes, but with her death, the stuff that made her Gideon was destroyed. That’s how Lyctorhood works, isn’t it? She died. She can’t come back, even if you keep her stuffed away in a drawer you can’t look at. You’re not waiting for her resurrection; you’ve made yourself her mausoleum.”

His wife looked at Harrow’s face and murmured, “Magnus, you’ve made your point,” but he uncharacteristically ignored her.

He's trying to get through to her in a very fraught situation, but he's certainly not pulling his punches:

“You’re a smart girl, Harrowhark. You might turn some of that brain to the toughest lesson: that of grief.”

Abigail is also trying to talk her out of things, but she's much more discursive and apologetic. Magnus is kind, but it's kindness as a knife, not a cushion.

Magnus is so often written off as just a silly, goofy character, when he's more complicated than that. He's allowed to have a very real frustration with the River bubble and with Harrow, however much he does also care for her and want to help her.

And you know what, he's a CFO stuck in a horrorscape with his delighted ghost nerd wife and a bunch of soldiers. He runs with it - he cracks one of his House ordinal jokes while physically tackling a gun-toting ghost and makes a decent go at it before getting shot. But he's very much out of his comfort zone, angry, and no longer entirely held back by propriety.

he would say some shit like this down the line i think

honestly the worst thing about adhd for me is that a new hobby or hyperfixation is one of the greatest sources of joy, but its always haunted by the knowledge that it won’t last and i don’t get to decide or even know how long. I can’t count on being interested in anything long term.

it feels like theres a clock ticking above my head and i cant see how much longer i get to enjoy something. i can’t start big projects for fear of never finishing them. i have to hold myself back from anything that requires long-term commitments or consistency because i can’t rely on future-me to follow through.*

when i pace myself and try to casually keep up with something after the hyperfixation ends it just isn’t the same, the joy is gone. when i say fuck it and just let myself run, i end up trying to cram years of a hobby into weeks or months. i bite off way more than i can chew, burn out spectacularly, and spend the next month feeling guilty every time i look at the pile of expensive, unused materials that i sat down one day and never picked back up.

Theres a toll that years of it takes on your self-trust, it compromises your ability to make decisions without second guessing the most basic things. “What will I want?” and “what will I like?” aren’t any less opaque at six months from now than six years. I can’t count on what I want. In a way, I can’t count on myself and there’s a grief that comes along with that.

i see so much about dealing with adhd shame, but i dont think i’ve heard more than one person express the grief that comes with losing something you really love, not because it leaves you, but because your body simply decides without your permission to stop loving it.

IT'S BUNNY TIME EVERYBODY

(feat. Dilla)

(bugle accompaniment by Yuu)

hey so cringe culture is dead applies to therians and otherkin bitches and all the like too. You Cannot Pick and Choose

Hi, can you make something with "you belong to me" or "London boy"? But just if you can do it and want and it doesn't matter what you choose from these two. Thank you 🥰🥰

anon: * ✰. — make a friendship bracelet london boy from lover pls 🫶🏻

anon: Please do london boy!!!! 💖

yk i love a london boy!!

join the 11k celebration!

his face was the first thing you noticed, cutely decorated with moles and freckles and dimples that you found yourself immediately falling head over heels for. the pub was packed with people and you had lost sight on your friend a little while ago, but at the moment it was at the. back of your mind as the cute stranger made his way over to you.

he smiled, dimples on full display, "you're brooke's friend, right?"

the british accent had sent you through a full, short spiral. if there was one thing you loved about visiting your best friend, it was the british men and their stupidly hot accents.

you nodded, "yeah, i'm y/n."

you stuck your hand out for him to shake, which he did with the same smile plastered on his face, "lando."

the two of you ended up talking, moving to one of the tables farther away from the commotion of the friend group. he had asked how you were enjoying london so far, you had made fun of his accent to which he replied with a basic american joke, things were going smooth.

until brooke bursted the perfect bubble, "y/n!"

you looked over at your best friend who was making her way towards you, "yeah?"

"i'm gonna get a taxi to take me back, you coming?"

you looked over at lando, who smiled softly at you, "i'll take you guys."

"no, you don't have to-"

"no, it's fine," he insisted, grabbing his keys from his pocket, "i'm ready to head out anyway."

you couldn't say no now, following him to his car that was parked on the street. of course brooke had told you about lando before, but none of the good things said could compare to how kind, sweet and fun he was in person.

you climbed in the passenger seat, letting brooke have the backseat to herself. she reached between the two seats, hitting lando on the shoulder, "i have a song request!"

you snickered as he replied, handing her his phone, "if you play taylor swift so help me god-"

but he was cut off with the intro of london boy starting to play, making you laugh as he rolled his eyes, "don't pretend you're not a swiftie!"

the whole ride back you had caught each other's eyes and you couldn't help but think maybe you had something in common with taylor swift after all, you do love a london boy.