#Therefore

[lxboratorii]

and they say wine is romantic

[amberluvsbugs]

Lil support doodle for when you need it⭐

[moonamite]

Is this a cat

[catastrophlick]

Mikimaus Waltdisneus is in the public domain quick someone get me an official edition of Osamu Tezuka's genre defining but very illegal manga retelling of Metropolis (1949)

[forzacinquesedici]

i made a commemorative collage in my journal for possibly the most chaotic day of the f1 season so far (it hasn’t even started)

[sm-baby]

Physically couldn't hold myself... I miss her, chat-

[a3dde]

So this, two illustrations to chapter 15 of the fanfiction Winter of the author @numbr2-pencil

[strangersatellites]

very excited to announce this!!!!

envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

this is part one of what will be the

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

pride (noun) - inordinate esteem for one’s own excellence. It is a habit or vice that disposes us to think more of ourselves than we ought. 

The Hair.

King Steve. 

Pretty Boy.

Steve is no stranger to objectification. He’s well acquainted with the way girls blush and giggle when he smiles their way in the halls. The way guys seem to puff out their chests when they speak to him. 

In fact, his physical appearance has become so much a part of who he is at this point that he’s probably single-handedly keeping Farrah Fawcett spray on shelves across the nation.

But the thing about being naturally attractive, Steve learned the hard way, is that humility is what really gets under people’s skin. 

Blushes go pinker when his response to a giggly “You look handsome today, Steve,” is looking at his shoes with a quiet, “What, this? Thank you.”

Other boys look less ready to throw a punch or an insult his way when they sprinkle their gametime trash-talk with “Pretty Boy” and “King Steve” if he just laughs and keeps playing.

Humility is what really does it.

For most people.

In the past few months he’s been dating Eddie Munson though, he’s realized there’s one exception. 

It's not that Steve doesn’t think he’s attractive. It’s not that at all. He knows he’s good looking, spends an inordinate amount of time making sure he highlights it daily. Loves it about himself actually.

He doesn’t usually let people know that he knows, is the thing.

But Eddie loves when he’s vain.

Loves the way he primps in the mirror before they go out.

How he spins around to make sure his best assets are on display.

Steve’s honestly lost count of the number of times he’s been talking to himself in the bathroom, staring at his reflection saying “Damn, I look good in this outfit,” before arms are snaking around his waist and squeezing at his hips. A gravelly, “Fuck yeah you do,” in his ear.

That’s why, with a Herculean effort, Steve pulls himself away from Eddie’s lips where he’s in his lap on his couch.

They’re both breathing heavy, lips swollen, and eyes glassy. But Steve has an idea.

He rubs his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and breathes a laugh when he turns to nip at one of them. Can’t help but to lean in and kiss him again.

“Can we try something, baby?” He whispers into the barely there space between them.

Feels Eddie nod and hands grip at his thighs.

“Anything you want, Stevie.”

He trails a hand back to tangle in Eddie’s curls and shifts to bite at his ear and whisper, “Want you to fuck me in front of the mirror. Wanna watch.”

When Eddie pulls back from him it’s with a wicked smirk and eyes darker than Steve’s ever seen. He bucks Steve up and off and smacks him on the ass when he turns to leave.

“Yeah baby. Let's go watch how pretty you are.”

He knows his smile is blinding when he laughs back over his shoulder. 

*****

Steve always thinks he’s hot, but he thinks he’s prettiest when he’s kneeling and sitting back on his boyfriend’s dick with tear streaks down his cheeks and drool down his chest. 

He’s so spacey, and so stuffed full that he’d agree with almost anything Eddie said. 

Currently it's a litany of, “Look at you baby, you’re so hot,” and “My sweet baby. Prettiest angel,” and “Look how pretty you are, huh,” with every punch of his hips and bite to the side of his neck.

Between Steve’s punched out breaths and whines he’s nodding. “Mhm. ‘M the prettiest. So pretty when I cry.”

His agreements have Eddie groaning and wrapping the hand not digging into his hip around the front of his neck and dragging him backward into a bruising kiss. 

He’s smiling and Steve can feel him laugh when he whimpers against his mouth. “Tell me about it baby. Tell me what’s pretty.”

Gasps from deep in his chest when Eddie wraps his hand around his cock and tugs. 

“Tell me.”

Steve whines once and squirms under the attention. Loves it. 

“My eyes,” he gasps. Eddie hums from behind him and slows his hips to a deep grind. “My eyes look really green when I’m crying. I like them.”

A soft kiss dropped to his shoulder and two sets of eyes on him in the mirror.

“My hair. Like it when– when it's messy,” a hiccup and eyes squeezed shut when Eddie shifts inside him just right. “Like when it’s messy from your hands.” 

He slides his own hands up his thighs and squeezes at the hand Eddie still has against his hip. 

He meets his own gaze in the mirror and his face breaks into a smile as his chest heaves.

“Like my lips when they’re swollen. People can tell I just kissed you. Want ‘em to know.”

In a second Eddie’s got a palm flat against his back and has his shoulders shoved down into the carpet, his head twisted to see himself.

He knows he’s falling fast because he giggles when Eddie grips at his hips and pulls him back onto his dick. Giggles even more when Eddie looks up at him in the mirror and smirks when he pushes in deep.

“Pretty when I’m ass up for you,” he smiles and his eyes finally stray away from his own reflection to meet his boyfriends gaze, fucked out and cocky.

Eddie lands a sharp smack to his ass and squeezes. “Hell yeah you are baby. So pretty when you’re on my dick.”

One of his hands slides up Steve’s spine and presses down on the back of his neck and pulls a gasp from his lungs. 

“But you know what baby?”

Steve hums with his eyes locked on the way his ass bounces with each meeting of Eddie’s hips.

The hand snakes back around to tug at his cock again and he knows it won’t take much more when Eddie grits out “Prettiest when you come for me.”

His legs shake and he lets out a high whine as he spurts into Eddie’s hand.

“That’s it angel. God you feel so good, Stevie,” is all Eddie can get out before Steve feels his hips stutter and his breath leave him in low groan.

Steve knows he’s attractive is the thing.

Knows he’s pretty and loves it.

People tell him all the time.

But one of his favorite things to hear is when he’s coming down from his orgasm high, his boyfriend lists the things he finds prettiest.

“Your smile.”

“Your laugh.”

“Your heart.”

“The way you love people.”

“The way you love me.”

“The prettiest is the way you love yourself.”

[masquerain-with-a-mask]

Me whenever someone asks

[mcytblrconfessions]

Kwite isn't even an mcyt from my knowledge, though I've made confessions of them on both the big man blog (here) and evil version. I think it's because of how much cringe energy /pos he radiates on a daily basis that I've been able to get those asks posted

im getting reports this kwite has infact played minecraft

[wiirocku]

2 Timothy 2:3 (KJV) - Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.

[mrtagawa]

i cant believe no ones done fem akutagawa that can use her hair as rashomon yet

[usefulquotes7]

Therefore, do not hesitate to make a mistake and continue searching until you find the right person. k.b. // human design analysis

[bonsai-maze]

hey @hiro--aoki

what I call you

mom?

mum?

mother?

maternal figure?

spawnpoint?

matron of destruction?

bob?

[ebolahandstand]

showed this to my boss at the cringe factory and got promoted

[resident-quilt]

going FERAL

Carpenter in her rant to Paige: “the last words [my parents] ever heard were that they were to be devoured by something they did not understand.”

Paige, creating the chant of her god: “I will steal myself away from their intent for me. My blood will not ripen their soil, nor shall my body blossom into their chosen colours.”

“I will be hallowed, but not for them.”

Paige. Paige, creating a god of martyrs and victims. A god of scapegoats... but also, a god of understanding. A god which respects the last wishes of all who call upon it. A god whose purpose, intentionally or unintentionally, responded to the anger Carpenter expressed all those months ago. 

And Carpenter, Sister “I would rather die for nothing and with nothing in my heart than die for you, my Trawler Man” Carpenter........... wow.

Not to mention!! The juxtaposition between the Cairn Maiden and the Many Below??????? They’re both there--not only for the followers of the faiths they lead, but for the followers of other faiths when they die. 

Except the Cairn Maiden is for deaths that always were going to happen, the deaths that everyone walks towards, the death you’ve been waiting for all your life. The death a person should, and is destined, to have. And the Many Below is for deaths that you struggle against, for deaths in which your fate and faith and purpose in life is ripped out of your hands. The death you weren’t walking towards all your life. When it manifests, the Many Below is violent, cruel, vicious, savage.

IT’S LIKE. IT’S LIKE THE CAIRN MAIDEN BUT ANGRIER if that doesn’t scream Carpenter I don’t know what does.