#and you wonder which is which
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dogs unleashed;
—in continuation of this collaborative meta on the nature of Batman's relationship with pain.
// mitski - cop car // Emily Skaja, Brute // Batman: Europa // Sally Wen Mao, Mad Honey Symposium // Lingua Ignota, Pennsylvania Furnace //
#it always comes back to Europa of course it does—#but also it's about the way Joker's teeth are framed in that panel; the way Batman's look at them#the contrast between their teeth are actually quite a distinct feature– often emphasized in comics#the house dog's teeth are fixed; you wonder if he can even bite#the stray dog's teeth have grown unruly; he can't keep a hold of his hunts as well these days#and you wonder which is which#batjokes#web weaving#web weave#batman#bruce wayne#joker
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A customer contacted our team with questions, and then finished their email with: "I am daunted by the complexities and unknowns." I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.
#no wonder the company has to secretly manipulate you#(which is my career tag; it is a quote from a tv show fyi)#(there was some confusion about that! it's from better off ted. just. so you know.)
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[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled "immortality” after the poem by clare harner (more popularly known as “do not stand at my grave and weep”). the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]
a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”
#dinosaur#evolution#comic#prehistoric#animal#wildlife#paleontology#biology#poetry#comics#original#my art#archaeopteryx has no direct living descendants i know#but i wanted something aerial and the dinosaur to bird connection is classic and well known anyway#also the chicken over any other bird is very on purpose#its the mix of truth and comedy and genuineness and the fantastic in the mundane#its me asking you to see something so wonderful in something taken so un-seriously#and to love it both ways#also the jurassic park thing#where someone saw the reconstructed gait of a dino#and said. hey hang on. i know that walk.#and pulled up footage of a chicken walking#which jumpstarted the entire study into the link between dinosaurs and birds#in the end take whatever you want from it i just thought id provide some insight#i always like it when other artists do#the point is that i enjoy when people laugh at the end and when they dont#and i like it when they cry. i like it best when they both laugh and cry. eeaao intent#anyway mourn your losses but to live is to change#also hi guys i finally figured out tipping after 5 months so no more annoying ko-fi link#the antidote to despair is awe
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post-graduation trip airport looks
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#nobara kugisaki#itafushikugi#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jujutsu kaisen fanart#these took ages but fr once i am choosing to forgive myself given th fact tht i was coming out of A State when i drew them#im normal now dw drawing the first years wearing merch of my comfort content fixed me#when in doubt play dress up. life hack#i am holding fast 2 my hc tht megumi is a fiend @ indie platformers and is a household name on the celeste speedrun leaderboards#argue with a wall this is my jujutsu kaisen#megumi designated Drink Runner also#alr in line at a cafe texts their gc 'what do you guys want' n gets mad @ nobara fr making him go to a Second shop 2 get her bubble tea#anyway theres not much 2 say abt these just bc i needed sth Light n Easy 2 get me out of my head#no lore to fashion pieces which is both a blessing and a curse but it Is what i needed#nobara serving looks fr a flight i love u so much. it's probably 8 in the morning n she is in a fully coordinated fit#its so criminal tht we don't have more alt hairstyle official art fr her???? iirc it's Just the lost in paradise mv with her in buns no????#robbed. i am fixing it immediately.#wonder where the 3 of them wld go on a trip
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A little obsessed with the "utterly burnt out & can't quite figure out how to make it work in this economy" depiction of Mario in the concept art.
Look at him. He's so tired.
#You just want to give him a hug and a crisp 20$#Makes me wonder if they were planning on having Mario with a lot less self confidence at the beginning#which explains the ''Super Luigi Bros'' logo#It would've been a lil weird but I'm also kinda here for it#I'm rolling this around in my mind as an AU#Super Mario Bros#Mario Movie#Mario movie concept art
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I hate how fandom has become "if you haven't created anything in this very specific time frame after the release of the show/movie, everyone will have moved on"
And call me old fashioned, but that's just not me. I sometimes take ages to create and publish. And I will love a show or movie for such a long time (years, babes, years) that I just can't relate to the fast consumerism that's going on.
Because, let's be real, it can get really lonely in a fandom if most have simply moved on to the next shiny thing. Is what's created less worth, just because it was created outside the hype? Why is it such a taboo for this new fandom generation to love an old or "late" fic or art?
It's so tiring and I'm too old for the 30-seconds-hype-tiktok-shit. Just tired. So, so tired.
#semi rant#cry into the void#and no i'm not shaming young ppl in general#it's this new wave of people entering fandom which can happen at any age lbr#and I don't understand them nor do I want to atp#if you're wondering why you can't rb anymore: I switched it off bcuz people can't fucking read and piss me off with their dumb additions
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return to sub level 50
#familiar and safe#transformers one#transformers#b 127#bumblebee#i am not tagging steve IJBOL#in the movie when bee is talking to elita she says “i need you to talk less”#which he obviously interperates as talking less about the specific topic#and continues to yap#so i wonder what itd be like if someone outwardly told him to shut up or that he was annoying#back to steve and aatron and eP 508#those guys are nice to him
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They don’t even attempt to assassinate US politicians anymore. You notice that? Not since the anthrax scare back for… who was it, Barack? And even that… pathetic. This new generation has no respect for an honest hitman. I’m not sure this new generation has any honest hitman - you see that shit with Boeing? Sloppy, fucking disgraceful - you kill the whistleblowers before they get halfway to a lawsuit. What kind of fucking amateur is doing faked suicides the night before testimony? Goddamn greenhorns. Back in my day someone tried to shoot Ronald Reagan in broad daylight. There used to be bomb threats to Congress. I took out a few union leaders in the utilities sector myself. Today’s generation? Won’t even threaten to throw a punch - not even over on that - what’s it now, ‘X’? They got no guts. None! And they don’t even have poor impulse control to boot! Too much of that - that panopticon anxiety bullshit. “Oh what if I get a called out post???” People used to send the president letters full of bioweapons. In the mail! Today’s generation? Not a chance. All because of woke.
#ra speaks#personal#JOKING.#this is a joke this is a parody of right wing rants regarding social phenomenon they believe to be oppressed by left leaning politics.#but within the perspective of an old fictional hitman.#this is a joke tangentially referencing my fictional hitmen from a fictional story in which no harm comes to career politicians#obviously but also if this gets me on a list o7#fbi agent in my phone I’m a disabled autistic dyke with zero engineering or chemistry background#my skills are best applied to…idk sabatoging national forest harvest regimes? but I’m not doing that they’re neglected enough as is.#edit: oops this is getting notes o/ hiiiii cia agent reading this post <3 a union leader my dad worked w got fucking assassinated#by Pinkertons and y’all didn’t do shit. I hope you have visions of hell and become a nomadic hermit self flagellating in the woods#edit 2: ooooooh there was a pres debate last night. that’s why people care about my two week old joke hitman post. was wondering why.
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CATCH ME (firefox-official) ON @electronicmail
PLEASE STOP MAKING ME SAY IT
#it’s time to move on#thank you for sticking around#it has been a wonderful/horrible six years#FAQ:#yes they emailed me i missed the email#it was trademark infringement#i am not active on THIS BLOG anymore#the blog is terminated which means the url will not come back#it was not tumblr failing to be okay with gimmick blogs it was just straight trademark infringement
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bene gesserit costuming + occult and religious imagery
#brought to you by me going down the 'I wonder if anyone has made a dune inspired tarot deck yet' rabbithole#dune#dune part two#irulan corrino#margot fenring#duneedit#the absolute joke of owning almost a dozen tarot decks and still going uhhhh when trying to figure out which cards to put up there#besides the classic rider-waite-smith#in my defense I didn't want them to be modern-looking otherwise I would've chucked the linestrider queen of swords in there#anyhow
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there was a period of time during the early days of Neopets wherein they would redesign an older pet. in order to pick a redesign they'd offer a poll with a few different options, like this:
but during 2001—2004 they would do polls with several completely normal, similar-looking options and then one (1) just completely messed up option that they never acknowledged or explained
my personal favorite was the Gelert one
#neopets#neotag#mynci#kougra#gelert#outdesign posts things#I like the mutant gelert we got but I also kind of unironically wish that messed up design was the mutant#presumably these were joke options but you could vote on them which makes me wonder what they would've done if the gag option won#greatest hits
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various art trades from the past month! had FUN as usual
#my art#furry#anthro#monster#dragon#oc#not my own but nevertheless#these characters are all lots of fun....thank you everyone for giving me cool guys to draw#also BIG things coming (said for the sixth time over the course of the year)#anyway i went apple picking for the last time this year recently which pretty much brings scrumping season to an end#here's a review: blackberries EARLY. annoyingly early but they were okay. greengages amazing. brings a tear to my eye#cherries SUCKED. cherries do better next year. grapes i'm still harvesting actually but doing well. sweet#and apples kind of popped off!!! year of the ugly apple this year - the beautiful red ones were worse than the scabruous pimply brown ones#which were crisp and had thin skin and a beautiful sweet-mellow-nutty taste...wonderful
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✧ Fantasies in the dark
✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: In which Arthur catches a glimpse of your intimacy, the vision driving him into madness until he finally decides to give in to his urges. ✦ Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Masturbation, nudity, voyeurism (reader not aware he's staring), self-depreciation, and lots of shame from this poor man. Arthur's pov. ✦ Words: 2,7k Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. And as always, as English isn't my first language, prepare for some possible misspellings. Read on AO3
Lately, Arthur had a problem. An incessant, disturbing, haunting problem.
He couldn’t sleep at night.
This could have been related to the gang’s precarious situation, being hunted down by the Pinkertons and surrounded by enemy gangs, O’Driscolls and Lemoyne raiders everywhere. Or even because of some older wounds, the loss of Eliza and Isaac amongst others, reminded almost every day by the complicated family portrait John painted with Abigail and Jack. Or the hurtful thought of the life he never had with Mary that was always following him since he had seen her again near Valentine. Life doomed from the start by his inherent violence and the mountain of corpses he was responsible for.
Arthur had plenty of reasons not to sleep at night. But this wasn’t because of any of that.
He couldn’t sleep because of you.
Not that it was your fault. In fact, you didn’t even know about any of that and Lord have mercy, he was praying that you’ll never find out; because he would never be able to look at you in the eyes then.
A few weeks ago, the gang had settled at Clemen’s Point. A rather pretty spot just near the lake, and not so far from town. But it wasn’t exactly the place that was causing him trouble. It was the unexpected view he was having from his tent.
For some unknown, mystical reasons, Miss Grimshaw while deciding the camp’s ajancement had decided to place your tent right next to his. Not so big of a problem at first sight, right?
Except that you were a night owl combined with the suffocating warmth of the place. Making you get to bed naked.
Oh, Arthur knew you do, because every night, every single one, you let a candle lit to read, or write, or God knows what before sleeping. The light casts your shadow against the tent’s canvas. The shadow of your very much nude body.
The first night Arthur had noticed, he had come back exhausted from a job in the middle of the night and laid on his cot without even taking the time to remove his boots or hat. A very usual and typical slice of his life, which lately felt more and more like a terribly used one. As if all these slices were repeating again and again. An accumulation of jobs and missions and robberies and fights; deceiving, lying, stealing, killing. Over and over again, going round and round. At night, he was reduced to a slumbered mind in a spent body, that was definitely becoming old and rusty. Already half asleep, mud and twigs surrounding his tired limbs, his thoughts all tangled up like a ball of wool, he had turned his head to his left, reaching from instinct for his pack of cigarettes on the little table next to his bed. Another slice of bad habits from a bad life.
That’s how his eyes had met with this quite erotic shape displayed on your tent.
Said eyes had grown so big that it had fully woken him up all of a sudden, as quickly as if someone had dumped a bucket of iced water on his shocked face. After half of a second of pure stabbing surprise and incomprehension with his hand hanged in the air, his breath stuck in his throat as if really being punched in the gut, he instantly turned his eyes back to the ceiling of his own tent. Cheeks burning red, heart pounding, as if someone had caught him in the act of doing a terribly shameful thing. Exactly as if he had really seen you naked.
He had feverishly grabbed the cigarette pack without looking at it, gaze refusing to turn again, these two blue diamonds locked on the ceiling of his tent, and had messily pulled one out of it, his shaky fingers fumbling, almost spilling everything on the ground.
He must have looked so damn ridiculous.
The smoke helped him to calm down, its soothing and comforting feeling spreading and burning through his lungs. He had fallen asleep, turned to the other side facing the wagon, trying not to think too much about the peek of your intimacy he had witnessed, telling himself it probably was going to be an isolated incident.
But of course, of course the Lord had to torment him even in the rare moments of peace he could have enjoyed.
Turns out this was apparently a habit of yours.
To be honest, he probably deserved to be tormented. But this was years from what he had in mind when it came to the Lord's punishment for his life of crimes.
And Arthur, even though a hardened man in many ways, able to lock lips during torture, kill men with bare hands, and stay emotionally strong in any kind of situation, was still only, after all, a man. A man with needs.
Filthy, disgusting needs.
He had tried to resist. Had tried not to let his eyes slip in your direction like that first night. Sometimes he would allow himself a quick glance, just to check if you were wearing any clothes for once, like a normal person. And maybe the night after would be different? Every evening spent at camp, his pupils would end up brushing the sinful silhouette in just a soft, slight sight, as if not to scare you, as if not to feel too bad about it.
But it was getting harder and harder not to stare. The easy lies about just checking on you or looking at anything else in the same area as your tent to have the chance of winning a glimpse of you would soon not be enough.
Just the mere fact that he knew you were completely bare, only a few meters away from him, singly the thin and superficial fabric of the tent between the both of you, was getting him hard and sweaty, and making his blood boil as a virgin teenage boy would. He could almost physically feel it, like a burning presence in his back when he was sleeping head against the wagon's wall.
The Human mind may be well designed for a lot of things; it forgets an event too hard to carry or can trick you into thinking you're not experiencing any physical pain in extreme situations. But Arthur had learned that it was extremely poorly made when it came to ignoring something. The more he was trying to not think about his unholy urges, the more he ended up being plagued with them. As sure as the seasons always turned in circles, you would come back to his effusive psyche.
And Oh, he was ashamed. Ashamed and revolted by himself. This was absolutely not in his habits, all the contrary. Yes, he was an old miserable bastard who had killed and plundered. But for God's sake, he had never acted obscene towards a lady before.
But the shame wasn't enough for him to stop. On the nights when the guilt was at its lowest —when the tediousness of his days was nibbling at his patience, he had let his eyes wander to your sinful figure, telling himself that maybe if he did, he could just go on with his night and finally rest. Just a quick taste, not too long.
But it only made things worse. It made him dream of you.
Dream of you stripped, his imagination taking the lead of what the tent’s fabric was preventing him from seeing. Dream of you moaning, taking him so tightly, welcoming him in your warm body and into your arms. Dream of the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, of the sight of your naked body squirming with pleasure. He would now often wake up frustrated and angry, if he had succeeded in sleeping at all, his member hard and throbbing on its own, his heart beating powerfully in his chest as if it had been real. His pants and blanket had even been damped one or two times.
What was he, a fifteen-year-old boy again? He was so angry and mortified by the physical obsession his body was having with you that he was constantly in a foul and fiery mood; bitter with everyone, his tension leaking into every movement and every word he spoke. He started missing targets when shooting, getting even more reckless and hot-headed during jobs, jobs often ending up missed or taken care of negligently, yelling at people when they weren’t fast enough, or clever enough, or silent enough, breaking things, breaking rules. The lack of sleep was making his deadly efficiency fade away, replaced by sloppy and messy gestures, stopping enemies from falling dead at his feet like his lethal skills always did, castrating the only thing that was left of his masculinity.
And yet, he couldn’t stop watching you from afar during the time he was at camp, telling himself he knew, or at least had an idea, of what you looked like without these clothes on; feeling a twisted sensation of pride imagining he was the only one who did. On top of that, your sweet personality and beautiful face weren’t helping him at all with his addiction. Filthy old bastard, stop it- he had to mentally slap himself to prevent staring at you for too long, especially staring at your chest that this goddamn dress you had chosen to wear wasn’t covering at all; or your ass these goddamn pants were fitting way too well.
Tonight, Arthur is avoiding going to bed too early. He knows he would just lay in it waiting for you anyway. Instead, he goes for a walk along Flat Iron Lake’s shores, bringing his journal with him. Two entire pages are already dedicated to your shadow. He had no idea a picture exclusively made of black and white flats on a sheet could have such a powerful erotic effect. Or maybe he is a complete degenerate —which, he is sure, is more and more true.
He has to be honest with himself, he could just go to a hotel, or out of camp for a few days to sleep under the stars, and the matter would be settled.
But he doesn’t want to. Because deep down inside, his urges are winning, making him feel like the most foolish and weakest man alive. He enjoys watching you. He enjoys seeing those forbidden plumped curves cast on this canvas. He feels like you're not leaving him any mercy, pitiless, his days dictated by the wait for his taboo rendez-vous, his nights by your sensual apparitions in his dreams.
He is trapped, you have completely tamed him, and irony of it all, have absolutely no idea you are making him feel like this.
This woman is drivin' me insane.
After a few hours on the cold shore's sand, his fingers only capable of creating quick little sketches and scribbles, his feet lead him back to camp. What a surprise. He finds most of the gang's members already asleep, apart from the ones on guard duty and some late campfire enjoyers talking about life, about love, grief, the future, the past. He briefly nods at them without a word and walks to his private space. He already knows what’s waiting for him there, your tent looking like it’s still illuminated, his thoughts and body avid for it.
No, don’t be a fool, Morgan.
He sits down on his cot. Mumbles to himself orders and curses to try and stay reasonable. Takes off his hat, runs a hand through his hair, sticky with sweat and dirt from his busy day, as all the other ones, as always. Scratches his beard and his ears with a sniff, tells himself he needs to take a swim into that lake. That he’s as dirty on the inside as he’s on the outside. Pulls down his suspenders before stretching his shoulders, a pained groan escaping him. A cigarette joins his lips, a match lights it, and he breathes in slowly. He tries to calm down, focusing once again on this homey feeling it brings him.
But his brows furrows. His lips tighten. He knows he won’t be able to hold on much longer. He needs to sleep properly. Even being the all-mighty Titan he is, he still needs a good night of sleep from time to time to keep the engine of his body turning, and you have kept it from him for days.
He lies to himself promising this is only for his health.
That this is the only way for him to stay focused during the day; the only way to rest properly and be at his best again tomorrow.
That this will be the only time he’ll do that.
His only moment of weakness.
The still-lit cigarette and his good conscience fall to the ground as he lies on his cot, settled on his left side, his right hand already roaming on his lower belly.
His eyes drop on the scene he had fantasized about for what seems like years to him at this point.
Lord have mercy…
Your shadow looks so perfect. He takes his sweet time to notice every detail of it, enjoying to the maximum his sinful behavior, now that he had succumbed to it. How you’re laying on your back, reading your book with your legs crossed. The curvaceous shape of your body looks divine to his insatiable gaze. Your hair messily tangled around your head. The silhouette of your chin and throat making him hungrier than any feast he could have attended. Your belly, rising and falling with your chest and breasts, gives the shadow an organic appearance. Your delicate legs, from the base of your thighs to your calves, to your feet, your toes mindlessly curling as you get lost in your story. And of course, the blurry outline of what was between them…
Damn it.
His hand quickly reaches his belt, unbuckles it, fiddles with his pants, opens them carelessly in an urgent grip. He spits in his palm, lashes out at himself when the desire of it being your wetness instead crosses his mind, and slips it between the buttons of his union suit. It finally wraps around his desperate shaft, gorged with blood, and he wonders if he already had been this hard before.
The moment he feels the pressure of his own fingers around it, he can’t help but sigh deeply through his nose, and has to physically block the groan he was about to let out.
Make no noise, moron.
He bites his lips to stop any other immoral sound from crossing through his mouth. Last thing he needs right now is to get caught. He slowly rubs one languorous time from up to down, then up again, his fingers brushing his swollen head right where he needs to. He instantly knows he won’t last. He had dreamed about this, about you, both during days and nights. His eyes are locked on your tantalizing silhouette, this deiform delicious flesh. Goddess of the night, Queen of his desires.
His hand rubs once again and his muscles tighten. He starts to stroke in a rhythmic pace, his moves are efficient, messy, careless. He masturbates the same way he takes care of himself —quickly, roughly, as if matching his disgust towards his own self. The exact opposite of what he would do to you if he could. This is pure physical relief.
Yes, God, yes…
Your name turns in his mind between blasphemous curses as he pleasures himself, stroking faster and faster, delightful warm sensations spreading through him. Finally. The burning is no longer in his back or mind; it's right there around his erection, flames licking all around it.
He wants to be able to join you there, so badly. He wants to discover the tone of your bare skin in those places you never show to anyone. He wants to whisper sweet things in your ear and you to sigh back, your voice high and softly shaking from pleasure. He wants the lewd intimacy, the shared tension and the electric, exciting touch of two foreign skins discovering each other for the first time. He wants to see your hardening nipples he can only have a glimpse of through the fabric.
He wants to have you, to take you, consume you, all to himself. He wants you to think about him the same way he is now, wants you to come while thinking of him, only him, your mouth to moan, whimper, scream even, all thanks to him.
He wants your hand instead of his, around his cock right now, pressing harder, moving faster.
Yes, yes, jus’ a bit more darlin’… -
A movement from you, a real one, makes his pace slow down and his heart stops, afraid you might have by some sort of divine knowledge understood what was happening. But you’re just shifting in your bed, positioning yourself on your belly with your book open against your pillow, and Arthur’s balls spasm; he now has the most perfect view of your ass, its gorgeous, decadent round and plumped contour making his member twitch in his fist.
Ahh, shit… So god damn perfect…
Pearls of sweat leak from his forehead to his neck. His ears shut close to the outside world, his surroundings completely disappearing. Now, there’s only you and your perfect back beautifully arched ending with your perfect bottom and him, and no one else’s on Earth. His breath is jerky, his entire face completely crimson, his fingers pumping so hard and fast he’s basically fucking his hand —your hand, with those wet and unmistakable noises filling the air.
His breath speeds up as Arthur feels his deliverance coming, blood rushing in his veins. He sees himself behind you grabbing fistfuls of your cheeks, he sees his erection diving deep between them. And it's the last straw. His brows are crunched in an exquisite expression of pure sexual delight, jaws so tensed he’s about to break his teeth, your pleasure-filled voice screaming his name in his head, dragging every sensation out of him. His orgasm hit him with the strength and speed of a thunderstorm, lightning bolts of satisfaction striking every fiber of his body.
Yes! Yesss —Damnit!
He comes hard with a low and throaty growl he forgot to —or couldn't repress, silently repeating your name again and again, his lower lip almost cut open from how hard he had bit himself, an enormous vein on his forehead where sweat covers his skin. His thick, hot cum spills messily in an indecently large amount, the aftermath of having held himself back for so long, leaking on his pants and fingers and staining his cot; a dash of white contrasting with the darkness of what he just did.
He’s praying to the Lord and the Devil, any mystical forces known to man, that nobody had heard his final relief sound, especially not you. It was louder than what he would like to admit.
Shit, so damn good…
Using his black bandana, he roughly cleans himself then tosses it somewhere on the floor, his cock finally softening as he shoves it back under his clothes, balls empty. And it feels good. So good a wave of shame and guilt crashes onto him once more. What a pig he was for jerking off while ogling you. What an old bastard he was to mingle you and his filth. But at the same time, he feels like his muscles are thanking him, his restless flesh satisfied, even though he almost hurt himself with how fast he had stroked, lost in his haze.
His bittersweet and contradictory feelings accompanied him as he took a last glance at your tent before drifting off to sleep, his breathing still a bit raspy as if he had run for hours. You had closed your book and taken the candle between your hands to blow on it, the little flame flickering before fading. And then, darkness.
The curtains falling on the stage at the end of this private decadent act.
Eyelids heavy, Arthur knows he will finally sleep tonight.
But he also knows this isn’t the end of his torments at all; the conflicting thoughts paint his mind just as the sun pierces through the dark ebony clouds of a thunderstorm, creating those abruptly dazing shapes and color, pitch black laced with blinding light.
Never in this life or the Other he will forget the form of your naked body, no matter how wicked he feels. Because when it comes to you and only you, Arthur Morgan is, indeed, a very weak man.
tagging : @a-court-of-valkyries and @zae-heeyyy
#hello I'm not dead#I hope you'll like this one its a bit filthy#honestly I was inspired by this very specific art piece from the wonderful Attckher if you know you know#Also should I write a little something more in which reader catches Arthur in the act? 🤭#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan fanfiction#arthur morgan x you#rdr2 fanfic#arthur morgan rdr2#pinefic#rdr2 fanfiction
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i'm ready to try
#This drawing is kind of personal to me#I recently graduated (CUM LAUDE WOOOO!!!!) and its like. not to get depressing#but when i was younger i was never sure whether i would make it to this point#When i was going through what i consider to still be like. the worst time of my entire life#This fictional character was there for me and she was something for me to latch onto and cope with#eGem helped me a lot with being able to process my emotions at the time but also helped me to reflect on myself#which i think is a big reason as to why I'm really happy with where i am with myself right now#I'm going off to uni next school year to study astronomy!!! which!!!#Im also doing because of eGem!!! She ignited this kind of childlike wonder for space for me#I love doing math and physics and whilst Im still a bit scared because. honestly i don't know whether this is what i want to do with my lif#I think i'll be okay either way#either way i wanted to draw egem again even if i haven't done so in a while because its like#i think i wouldnt be who i am without her. i think i'd be a lot worse off#so like. thank you empires smp thank you geminitay thank you egem This drawing is me expressing my gratitude#AND THANK YOU AUTISM!#empires smp#empires smp s1#empiresblr#esmp#geminitay#art#fanart#alice.art#mcyt#mcytblr#song is andromeda by weyes blood... obv.. you guys know me by now :oP
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Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!
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#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#Sorry to everyone who was looking forwards to this comic only to find out I put WWX in the ugliest outfit.#Continuity came first. Plus let's be honest; he did *not* show up in anything fancy. Or in all black as seen in most fanart.#We are at the middle of WWX depression arc. His self-care was 100% because Jin Yanli would be sad if he didn't try to look nice.#Okay okay. Fine I've delayed talking about the kiss long enough.#It is absolutely a core LWJ scene over a WWX scene. Which is made even more fascinating because we don't get his POV.#But we get so many insights! His loss of control and his firmness all contrasted against how he trembles.#And all of that wrapped up in a wonderful self-loathing bow! You go Lan Zhan! You hated yourself so much for this!#WWX is a hilarious narrator for this because he is truly just...baffled by what's going on.#He would push the person away but he doesn't want to hurt their feelings or pride (putting other people first again are we?)#I do understand why this one is divisive for people though. I choose to look at it through a character/humourous lens.#I've seen people defend and admonish this scene as a particularly shitty thing LWJ did and let's be very clear here: It was.#That's why I like it. LWJ did a shitty thing and struggles with it. It's part of what makes him so robust as a character.#It's also fine if you enjoy this scene for it's eroticism. You're not a bad person for that. You are just A Person.#People will have their own experiences with this topic. Be kind to each other alright?
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so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.
first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.
it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.
and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.
you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.
and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.
your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.
in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.
in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.
so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.
you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.
once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.
and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"
you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?
hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!
you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.
we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?
#where's the word woman in this u might wonder if u suck#good news i am nonbinary and have a uterus so that is something that can happen#im also gender fluid tho which means im immune to certain psychic damage bc if u call me a woman i'll be like <3 okay <3#writeblr#the tightrope of ''ppl need access to this''#and like also#''what the fuck is going on over there'' is like. so difficult as an activist#i was <3 punctured <3 during mine#and almost bled out on the table :) they didn't have anyone standing by bc it's ''just a little insertion''#so i started crashing and i vaguely remember apologizing for the fuss as i heard my heart rate monitor start going <3 tachycardic <3#she wasn't even a bad doctor tbh#ps btw the reason i even HAD a heart monitor is that i have a genuine heart condition and they knew GOING IN that there was a chance#i'd crash on the table#like my heart just likes to do fun little tricks and <3 stop working <3 (i do not want to discuss the specifics ty i am okay im ontop of it#and they were like 'oh u will be fine' and then she did do a puncture thru my uterus . pop!#and im sitting there dizzy and feeling my heartrate start to drop bc it feels almost. beautiful. like. the whole ground just#woosh! out from under you. and shit is like grey's anatomy. i'm looking up at her grey eyes#she's old she wears this nice shawl she's like got Cool Lesbian vibes and people are sprinting into the room#from other parts of the clinic unrelated to me. while the monitor is like a little aria singing#and shes like hey youre okay stay awake stay with me something went wrong we have to keep trying#and i remember thinking - i was trying to think of nice things. i have so many beautiful places that now overlap#with this terrible memory#i became dimly aware that there was too much on her wrists and hands. like#that was too many liters#and then when they had finished all this. i packed up and drove myself home#i have had (bad thing) happen to me. and the same feeling happened after#that numb almost lamblike bleating. you cry without noise. like. ur body is so shocked and ur mind so empty#you just stare at the road and everything everything is happening behind glass and static and you are standing so far away from it#while you hold ur hands at 10 and 2. and something in ur brain is SCREAMING at you - IT WAS BAD AND IT SHOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED#and ur just watching the alarms in your body going off and youre thinking. a little pinch! ha. i think i just lost something important.
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