#i stand by it tho

[usedtobecooler]

Out of Eddie and Steve who do you truly think would be more likely to fuck a fat girl?

truthfully, it’s eddie. i don’t think he’d be superficial and look for somebody based on their appearance and body type, and he’d date and fall for a fat girl because he loved her body, not despite it.

he’d find the most comforting and gentle ways to make a big girl feel relaxed during sex too — you don’t wanna take your shirt off? cool, we won’t do that. you want the lights off? whatever you want, sweetheart. he’d never expect you to do anything you weren’t completely sure about, he’d follow your lead and guide you if you asked for it.

he’d caress and kiss and stare in complete awe with those big doe eyes at your body, drinking in every square inch. memorising stretch marks and scars, the pudge of your belly, the dip of your hips, the ripples in your thighs. so turned on it fucking hurt.

he’d be dumb struck by how your body opened up for him — relaxed and pliant under wandering hands and lips, so wet and ready once he was done that he’d slide in and make home buried deep in your fluttering cunt, gripped so tight by your walls he knew he wasn’t gonna last.

and the praise, god. the constant reminders spilling from his lips as he fucked you so desperate, hands continuing to touch lightly, fingers gripping tight, teeth biting and marking in an act to show everyone you’re his — “so fuckin’ pretty moaning for me like that, sweetheart. letting the whole park know who you belong to, huh?”

raw and desperate comments would continue to flow until you were blushing and tears were pricking at your eyes, wetting your temples because it was just so good, he’d be talking about “so sexy, y’ve got no idea,” and “that perfect body, and your pussy, fuck. you were made for me. made for my cock.”

and once you both came and the blissful ecstasy in the electricity filled room fizzled out, the ringing in your ears fading slow — he’d kiss you languidly and whisper sweet nothings about how much he fucking loved you as you drifted off into a contented sleep.

[queenychu]

I know I am the preacher of t4t transpollo x (nb) klavier but imma just say if klapollo was femslash klav would be transfem and apollo would be butch. I cannot see it any other way

[cute6troll]

I'm actively praying on Jimmy's downfall this season

Not for any valid reason and I will still be happy if he manages to escape the first death again but it would be so fucking funny

Jimmy dying first again after he thinks he's rid of the curse would be the funniest shit ever

[emrowene]

found this in my drafts. i have no memory of drawing this

[scoutisnthome]

No I'm NOT working out to lose weight. I'm working out to build muscle. I'm gonna be strong AND well fed. Never let them peer pressure you into losing weight that's the devil talking.

[undermattsun]

peeing out nail polish flakes for three days straight cus u let skate rat mattsun finger u :/

[sergeantpixie]

Thanks for tagging me @forasecondtherewedwon!

rules: list 5 of your favourite books on a poll, so your followers can vote which book they think captures your vibe the best

Tagging: @morocorra, @imperpetuallylost, @randomestfandoms, @woodswit, and anyone else who wants to!

Book summaries from Goodreads below the cut:

Libba Bray's The Diviners:

Evie O’Neill has been exiled from her boring old hometown and shipped off to the bustling streets of New York City—and she is pos-i-tute-ly ecstatic. It’s 1926, and New York is filled with speakeasies, Ziegfeld girls, and rakish pickpockets. The only catch is that she has to live with her uncle Will and his unhealthy obsession with the occult. Evie worries her uncle will discover her darkest secret: a supernatural power that has only brought her trouble so far. But when the police find a murdered girl branded with a cryptic symbol and Will is called to the scene, Evie realizes her gift could help catch a serial killer. As Evie jumps headlong into a dance with a murderer, other stories unfold in the city that never sleeps. A young man named Memphis is caught between two worlds. A chorus girl named Theta is running from her past. A student named Jericho is hiding a shocking secret. And unknown to all, something dark and evil has awakened…

Ami McKay's The Witches of New York:

The year is 1880. Two hundred years after the trials in Salem, Adelaide Thom ('Moth' from The Virgin Cure) has left her life in the sideshow to open a tea shop with another young woman who feels it's finally safe enough to describe herself as a witch: a former medical student and "gardien de sorts" (keeper of spells), Eleanor St. Clair. Together they cater to Manhattan's high society ladies, specializing in cures, palmistry and potions--and in guarding the secrets of their clients. 

All is well until one bright September afternoon, when an enchanting young woman named Beatrice Dunn arrives at their door seeking employment. Beatrice soon becomes indispensable as Eleanor's apprentice, but her new life with the witches is marred by strange occurrences. She sees things no one else can see. She hears voices no one else can hear. Objects appear out of thin air, as if gifts from the dead. Has she been touched by magic or is she simply losing her mind? 

Eleanor wants to tread lightly and respect the magic manifest in the girl, but Adelaide sees a business opportunity. Working with Dr. Quinn Brody, a talented alienist, she submits Beatrice to a series of tests to see if she truly can talk to spirits. Amidst the witches' tug-of-war over what's best for her, Beatrice disappears, leaving them to wonder whether it was by choice or by force. 

As Adelaide and Eleanor begin the desperate search for Beatrice, they're confronted by accusations and spectres from their own pasts. In a time when women were corseted, confined and committed for merely speaking their minds, were any of them safe?

Megan Abbott's Dare Me:

Addy Hanlon has always been Beth Cassidy's best friend and trusted lieutenant. Beth calls the shots and Addy carries them out, a long-established order of things that has brought them to the pinnacle of their high-school careers. Now they're seniors who rule the intensely competitive cheer squad, feared and followed by the other girls—until the young new coach arrives.

Cool and commanding, an emissary from the adult world just beyond their reach, Coach Colette French draws Addy and the other cheerleaders into her life. Only Beth, unsettled by the new regime, remains outside Coach's golden circle, waging a subtle but vicious campaign to regain her position as "top girl"—both with the team and with Addy herself.

Then a suicide focuses a police investigation on Coach and her squad. After the first wave of shock and grief, Addy tries to uncover the truth behind the death—and learns that the boundary between loyalty and love can be dangerous terrain.

Nina LaCour's Everything Leads to You:

A wunderkind young set designer, Emi has already started to find her way in the competitive Hollywood film world.   Emi is a film buff and a true romantic, but her real-life relationships are a mess. She has desperately gone back to the same girl too many times to mention. But then a mysterious letter from a silver screen legend leads Emi to Ava. Ava is unlike anyone Emi has ever met. She has a tumultuous, not-so-glamorous past, and lives an unconventional life. She’s enigmatic…. She’s beautiful. And she is about to expand Emi’s understanding of family, acceptance, and true romance.

Sarah Rees Brennan's Tell the Wind & Fire:

In a city divided between opulent luxury in the Light and fierce privations in the Dark, a determined young woman survives by guarding her secrets. 

Lucie Manette was born in the Dark half of the city, but careful manipulations won her a home in the Light, celebrity status, and a rich, loving boyfriend. Now she just wants to keep her head down, but her boyfriend has a dark secret of his own—one involving an apparent stranger who is destitute and despised. Lucie alone knows the young men’s deadly connection, and even as the knowledge leads her to make a grave mistake, she can trust no one with the truth.

Blood and secrets alike spill out when revolution erupts. With both halves of the city burning, and mercy nowhere to be found, can Lucie save either boy—or herself?

[heronowo]

I have no explanation for this

[thedomesticanthropologist]

Clean🧼 fresh ✨️sheets ⬜️ and pillowcases 🛌

Are the best 👌 👍

Top tier 👏 mental health 👏 activity

Change em

Smell em

Roll around

You WILL feel better

[kaaaaaaarf]

Posting this behind a cut in case you don't feel like listening to me ramble about what it means to have bipolar ii and be a fic writer.

Being a fic writer with bipolar has turned out to be a weird experience. I certainly can't speak for every person with bipolar disorder, but this is what it's been like for me:

I can't write well unless I'm hypo-manic. When I'm having a "normal" day, my writing doesnt flow. I can't think of obvious words—but when I'm in it, I can pop out an entire chapter in a matter of days—and the fuck of it is, often it's even good.

But see, even though I intellectually know that this only happens when I'm manic, when I'm in it? Game off. I am flying high and often don't even realize it. It takes a certain amount of determination to stay in the "zone" for enough consecutive days to get something completed, and this only feeds the mania.

So, I will push through the week I'm feeling inspo, ignoring my responsibilities, forgetting to take care of myself and then—it's posted. The high of completing something usually lasts for half a day before I crash and fall straight into the depression pit.

It happens nearly every time I post a fic, and I'm so ill prepared anyways. I still can't go back and read hatefuck two because I wrote it in a manic frenzy, and then the next day, I experienced the worst dip of depression in a long, long while. There are a few reasons why I can't read it to be honest, but a lot of it is that I associate that fic with that dark day.

Everything is clearer the day after, when the mania subsides, and the shame you feel for being manic is nearly inescapable. I become convinced that whatever I wrote is terrible and that I should quit writing all together.

So, right now I feel like shit, and I'm mad at myself for being excited about something. I'm embarrassed that it means so much. I'm terrified because if I lost the ability to do this I would be lost.

Anyways, just going to continue to spiral, wish me luck.

[multifandomhoodies]

my horny Tim posting escaped containment

[bishonenspit]

seeing the new omegaverse anime on my twitter feed has me thinking of this tweet nonstop

[probablygayattorneys]

So, I have this fun little thing called ‘catastrophic insomnia’ which means even if I do all the things you’re supposed to do, I put my phone away seven hours before bed, I do yoga, I do nothing in my bedroom except sleep… I will still not sleep well, if at all. It’s not my fault, it’s just the way my body was made, which means I get access to the good stuff in order to sleep, and a fun thing about some controlled substances, at least the ones I take, is that there is a real clear moment where the it goes from “it’s kicking in” to “I have no memory of this the next morning.”

Yesterday was one of those days while I was DMing a friend. See if you can catch where the heel turn was.

[hearts-hunger]

tell us maddie👀 say it🧍🏻‍♀️

i have to go disappear into the woods now sorry

[legalisecatboyss]

phil saying big words is so hot, talk intelligent to me english language degree daddy

[cleoselene]

NOW HOLD THIS SHIT TOGETHER FOR THREE OUTS GUYS C'MON