#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.

[beguilingcorpse]

the maximum ride books are so fucking insane. james patterson wrote down literally whatever he wanted about a group of weird bird kids, threw in some wild plot about eugenics or global warming or nuclear winter or whatever, did not edit or proofread the manuscript, and then sent it to his publisher. he did this nine times. not once did anything in them make sense. and the books had a CHOKEHOLD on middle schoolers everywhere

[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.

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ KATSUKI FUCKING YOU IN THE PORSCHE .ᐟ

̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒ inspired by this from @with-my-calamitous-love !

master list ‣ ‣ @zennypiee

“We’re gonna be fuckin’ late.”

It’s the third time he’s repeated himself, and Katsuki’s weak attempt at convincing you to be on time for yet another stuffy heroes banquet isn’t working. He’s been trying to show his face in public more, courtesy of his PR manager. But you know that you’d both much rather park in an empty lot so you can bounce on his cock.

Long, thick fingers tap the steering wheel in a quick rhythm, the muscles in his forearms flexing with every small movement. It’s the end of summer, and Katsuki’s skin is a bit tanner than usual. You thank God the weather is still warm enough that Katsuki’s rolled the sleeves of his silky black button up to his elbows.

Your stare is open and shameless, biting the inside of your cheek as he rolls the wheel with one hand to turn right. “So what? C’mon baby, the banquet will continue whether we’re late or not. Besides, you didn’t even want to go, Kat.”

Katsuki laughs, a short and rough sound. You glance at him and he meets your gaze, smirking, then returns to watching the road, flicking on the turn signal. “Fine, fuck the banquet. You love gettin’ your way, don’t ya? Spoiled girl.”

He’s teasing, but heat sinks low into your belly anyways. “Say whatever you want, but I know you love spoiling me, Katsuki.”

Katsuki hums in response. The hand that’d been resting on the gearshift lands on your thigh, palm warm and melting through your dress like butter. He squeezes once, gripping the fabric and tugging until it starts to bunch around your upper thighs.

Silently, you check your purse in hopes of finding a hair tie. You’d like to be somewhat presentable for the banquet afterwards.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

The backseat of the Porsche is quite small.

Katsuki’s too tall, and it’s not realistic for you both to be able to bend and twist to get the right angles. Not that the front is much better, but at least Katsuki can scoot his seat far back enough that you’ll fit snug in his lap. Even if the steering wheel digs into your back every now and then.

One of your knees is trapped between Katsuki’s thigh and the center console, pinching it to the point of being annoying but easy to ignore. The other presses against the door. You shift your weight, adjusting your feet so the tops of them are propped up Katsuki’s thighs and it relieves the ache on your knee.

Your pussy drags along his shaft as you do, the only thing keeping him from sliding inside is the fabric of your panties. He’d shoved his slacks and briefs to mid thigh before you straddled him and now the heat of him is unbearable.

“Fuck,” Katsuki chokes out, gripping your waist out of habit as his dick twitches. “You’re goddamn gorgeous, I wanna see your tits.” He moves one hand up to your chest and yanks down the collar of your dress, breasts bouncing free, and he seals his lips around one of your nipples, sucking so hard your hips jerk forward.

“Oh god, Kat, don’t tease,” you warn, fingers fisting the silky material over his shoulders. Katsuki’s tongue flicks your tender nipple, skating his hand up your ribs and down your waist, over your thigh and between your legs. He pulls your panties to the side, letting cool fingers slide between your lips. They briefly dip inside, and you rock down only for Katsuki to retreat.

Katsuki frees your nipple with a pop and leans back to speak, more than likely to antagonize you, but you surge forward and cut him off with a bruising kiss. Katsuki’s head knocks into the seat from the force of it, punching a groan from his chest. The clean, citrusy scent of his cologne curls in the air and tickles your nose.

You shove your tongue into his mouth, reaching down to circle your fingers around his shaft. Tightening your hold causes Kastuki to suck in a sharp breath, and you break the kiss to rest your forehead on his.

Rising up on your knees, you use your grip on his dick to tap his tip against your clit, a prickle of heat shooting up your spine, before you line him up and start to sink down. The soft heat of your pussy locks tight around him and Katsuki tenses up beneath you, latching onto your hips.

Your breath catches in your chest until you bottom out, ass meeting his thighs. Your pussy throbs from the burning stretch.

“Jesus,” Katsuki breathes, lids fluttering as he struggles to keep them open. “Feels too fuckin’ good, babygirl.” You nod your agreement, slack-jawed, and straighten your spine. It’s like Katsuki’s cock is in your stomach.

“Help me Kat,” you demand, bracing your hands on the seat behind the blonde.

One side of Katsuki’s mouth lifts into a smug grin, shifting himself a bit lower into the seat. Large hands cup your ass and squeeze tight enough to leave marks. “Hang on tight, princess.”

The first thrust sparks pleasure deep in your pelvis, heat rushing to your toes. After that, each time you push back to meet him, it’s slick, loud, and frantic. He fucks you fast and hard, this being one of the few times Katsuki’s agreeable to a quickie. The heat rises until the windows fog up, your handprint becoming very visible to the outside eye.

Once you’ve settled back into the passenger seat you touch up your makeup, thankful it wasn’t ruined. Although, your hair tie does get put to good use.

[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

[msmoon-and-the-cyberdemon]

Holy shit.

[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