#A FUCKING RIDE...

[lotus-pear]

lore accurate double black battle scene

[wolfienation]

absolutely hilarious to me that agatha calls rio a bad boy when in reality rio is actually the rule following jock with infinite patience and care who brings you flowers on a first date.

agatha on the other hand is the snarky girl who gets into arguements with her teacher about the smallest details in the lecture and is constantly getting detention for cursing someone out. she's top of all her classes tho.

[ash-and-starlight]

Sokka baulked. "I'm not getting on that." "That," said Zuko, "is my baby." Zuko's baby, a fifty foot dragon, huffed. Great white plumes of smoke issued out of his nostrils and buffeted around Sokka. "Play nice, Druk," said Zuko, laughing

for The Mercy of Magpies chapter 2!

as always written by thee wonderful showstopping incredible @ranilla-bean ✨

chapter post || cover || map and characters

[crushy-wushy-mushy]

when men roll up their sleeves and show their slutty little forearms i wither away like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time

[artist-rat]

my sister finished her first bg3 run, here's evil gang reunion photo <333 (withers invented polaroid for the occasion idc)

[xythlia]

› it won't fit bf vs I'll make it fit gf

𓏲 ࣪₊ mdni. size kink. riding him like your life depends on it. begging. crying. f!reader

it's not that nanami doesn't know how big he is but he doesn't really know until he watches your body struggle to take even just the tip of his perfect cock.

he always fills you up so well, stretching your pussy to accommodate his girth and it makes you feel like he must be all the way in your tummy even though he's barely halfway in. but he's also the type that would never, ever do anything to hurt you. when he's got you on your back, your legs spread and your arms laced around the back of his neck, and he hears you choke on your sharp gasp as he slowly presses into you it forces him to pause.

when you plead with him it makes his brows furrow, unwilling to potentially force your body to take all of him so he'll simply tell you in a low, matter of fact murmur that he just won't fit. he'd never push you, never make you take more than you're capable of and he's happy to satisfy you in any other way under the sun.

and while you adore how sweet he is, how painfully considerate of your limitations, he doesn't know just how badly you ache for him. so you take matters into your own hands, sweetly maneuvering him on his back as you start straddling him. your lips are quick to stifle his concerns, cutting off his words of caution as your tongue slides against his and you line him up with your soaked cunt.

as you sink down on him he knows he should stop you, with his hands gently caressing your sides to steady you and his eyes fixed on the way your mouth drops open and the way your eyes get teary feeling every inch of him. he's about to as he sees your bottom lip start wobbling... until you start moving.

even while your hands splay against his chest, fingernails scraping his skin, as you moan and whine about how big he is, how you can't handle it, you're still taking him in deeper with every rise of your hips and bounce of your ass against him. nanami knows he should stop you, at least get you on your back again so he's the one in charge of how much you're taking, but he just can't bring himself to. it's mesmerizing, the most heart stoppingly attractive thing to grace his field of vision in all his life.

feeling the way your warm walls throb around him, how incredible it feels every time you slide back down to bottom out and split yourself fully on his cock makes him feel dangerously close to delirium. his hands cup your ass, his fingers dig into the plush fat, urging your movements to take on a more frantic pace and you're mewling, pleading for him to give you more, more, more.

when he pulls you down against him in a harsh grip, hips slamming up to recklessly give you just what you asked for he tastes the tang of saltwater in your kiss. tucking your face against his neck to stifle your sobs for him to go faster, harder he loses himself fully in the feeling of your pussy clamping down on him, the way your body's doing everything in its power to milk him for all he's worth.

he almost can't believe he's been so stubborn, trying to tell you your own limits when clearly you know yourself far better.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[mioakem]

one of the worst parts of being a dsmp fan in 2020-2021 was when ppl who weren’t in the fandom didn’t differentiate between the dream team side of the fandom and the sbi side of the fandom and just assumed we were all foaming at the mouth for dnf

[wheelie-sick]

I don't understand why pedestrians are so eager to replace wheelchairs in fantasy worlds. no, in Pokemon wheelchair users wouldn't be riding Pokemon everywhere they would be using wheelchairs. wheelchairs are just fine. they don't need magical fantasy replacements

[lefthandarm-man]

COUNTDOWN TO STEVE'S 106TH BIRTHDAY posting my favorite steve things to celebrate

day 1: his fighting style includes flipping around and being dramatic and destroying motorcycles for no reason

[autism-crime]

AO3 is down due to a DDoS attack, meaning someone is purposely overwhelming the website with requests.

Do not refresh the website until they have confirmed that the site is back online. You’ll only send more requests and further overwhelm the site.

[need-something-to-do-world]

season eight is almost here and I still haven't recovered from the "cheating on your nun girlfriend with your dead ex wife" adventure

[randommmthoughts]

You see this super common scene?

Okay, do you see this?

LIKE do you SEE this???

THIS

Do you see that

Blitzø fucked a horse?!

The man truly did it

[spectersgf]

[pleucas]

most feared duo in yokohama

[solarlunarsstuff]

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩

☆ Headcannons With Mike Schmidt ☆

Synopsis: This is basically abt Mike Schmidt cuz yes- (sfw and nsfw).

Tw: Dacryphilia, thigh riding, fingering, fluff n smut, switch!Mike, switch!Reader, manhandiling, orgasm denial, squirting, dumbification, and cuddling.

A/n: Abby also catches the bus in this lil drabble, ots also short I'm sorry :(, anyway. Enjoy this breedable man's hdcs!!! ♡♡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

(SFW HDCS)

☆ First of all, you've both been friends for years, he had given you the keys to his house for the purpose of trusting you

☆ You got up early to check on him, but by that time Abby had already gotten to school by the bus

☆ You both would cuddle in the morning before he left for his agonizing night of work

☆ You would also cook for the poor man so he wouldn't be left on an empty stomach

☆ You've always remembered to give him goodbye kisses before he would start the car

☆ Once he got to work, he would always keep a picture of you in his wallet, either way, he loved how pretty you were

☆ Mike would slowly eat his lunch made from you.

☆ Every single type of affection you did to him would make him melt

☆ And once he got home he would shower you with kisses

☆ On the lips, hands, neck, anything would work for him as long as you were in his protective arms

☆ He even got a bit risky at the dinner table where Mike, Abby, and you.

☆ Mike would rest his hand on your thigh while you both would listen to Abby talk about her "friends" and drawings

☆ Abby started to stick on you, drawing you and Mike holding hands with some colorful background

☆ Mike has always loved you, ever since he saw you in preschool

☆ He may still be a bit nervous around you but still yet, he lived for your love

☆ He would often give you hugs from behind when your cooking with his bedhead, tank top, and sweats

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

(NSFW HDCS)

☆ Morning sex, all the way

☆ It's like you'll come to his house and he would act all needy and would beg for you to ride him

☆ This happens so much that you started to go dumb over his dick

☆ You would obviously agree and lose track of time and he ends up late for work

☆ Mike is so obsessed that near the end of his shift he would call you to check in but it would end up in phone sex

"Yeah, lemme' hear that fuckin' cunt-fuuuuckk"

☆ He would breathe out while his throbbing cock was laying in his calaused hands

"Go on. Finish f' me? Mhmm, that's it..."

☆ Mike would walk you through it and cooed at any noise that came out of your body

"Shiiiit- can't wait to break that fuckin' pussy when I get home.."

☆ Ohh boy, you knew he would absolutely fuck you up

☆ You also knew that when he gets home from shifts, he would get a bit madder each night

☆ You didn't mind, like at all.

☆ Mike was drilling his dick straight into your puffed up cunt, not letting up to let you breathe

☆ You've told him so many times that when he comes home mad you get a bit worried but he brushes it off

☆ Besides that, he loves when you take control too

☆ Having him not shutting up when he was being to loud

☆ Grabbing the opportunity to shove your panties in his mouth

☆ Mike is so far into bliss that he lolled his tongue out to let you spit in his mouth

☆ He calls you whore, you call him slut. Either or you both love degrading each other

☆ Even if he's not in the mood he'll let you hump his thigh so it's not as messy

☆ But it ends in him finger fucking you

"Aww, poor baby wants my fat cock in her? Well to fucking bad, deal with it you fucking whore.."

☆ Mike was the person that had founded your G-spot, making you squirt everytime but sometimes wouldn't let his poor baby finish :(

☆ He would always lick and suck it off of his fingers and helped you wash up

☆ He was the one that made you want more

☆ Mike Schmidt was the only man on earth that could make you come as hard on and around his cock

《☆♡☆》