#my mr beasts

[yourpalmalika]

SO embarrassed because I feel like the "I love you Mr. Beast.... I love you forever and ever... No one's gonna take you away from me" tiktok sound when I talk about/with people I admire a lot. I promise I'm not a creepy stan!!! I am a bit obsessed with your work but like! In a very!

[gleafer]

In my headcanon, Mr. Brown is a CrossFit crazy Disco Stu who cannot help himself when it comes to peacocking when Mr. Fell is around!

Drew this while listening to My Type by Saint Motel. Have a listen and giggle!

His face, though.

[beautifulpiquerisms]

Let's all pretend that this actually looks like a real youtube thumbnail

[faggyv4mpire]

[soapyakships]

white day trio new years to start 2024!

[4chance]

flow of our lives — I. a mr. crawling series built around the sweet mundane. — part 1 of ?

word count — 0.6k summary — you take care of crawling to make up for past bitterness. notes — SFW. gn reader (no pronouns). END04 implied. bold = otherworld language. we call him "crawling" here, because we're close enough with him now to drop the honorific.

You must use force to twist the knob of the faucet (more now than before your foray into that world) and let the water roll, until you stop it at the lip of the bucket. You dip your fingers in. It is warm, and the heat is not far from your own, not too harsh. Crawling will not shy away.

He loves you—so much. He has a zest for your life, like a sweet, loyal dog; he loves you like a dog loves the chocolate in your hand. You did not always love him the way he deserved: to this day, he wears you proudly on his face (in the blood you had shed when you plunged your crowbar down his face). You soak a microfiber cloth in the water, tip Crawling’s chin with the bed of your thumb, and press the cloth to his cheek.

“Hot?” he says.

Your face drops to a look of concern. “Many hot? You hurt?”

“Not hurt. Little hot feel good.” He tilts his head, burrows his cheek into the cloth. “Why you have this?”

The water of the Otherworld is cold and hard and stagnant. Crawling knows the hot of a scared, throbbing heart; of the fire meant to ward off his kind. When you take up your cloth and wipe the grime from his chin, you show him warm: a nice heat, that is not here to hurt him.

“Your face… have blood. Blood… go out of your face—me happy.”

“Happy?”

His hands dart to the cloth. He tries to wrest it from your grip and drag it toward the center of his face.

“Calm down—not… move.” Since the Otherworld has no word that you know for please—“friendly.”

You know Crawling can handle himself. He braved the Otherworld as long as he did, and you trust him now to keep your apartment during the day: he mops floors and folds clothing, prompted and not. Still—it is you that must make sure he knows: you are not here to hurt him.

He never let the other ghosts touch him (not like this—not at all). Perhaps he forgave you already—loves you just that much.

You bring one hand to cradle the back of his head; the other gives his face gentle strokes. His body melts beneath your touch; he swipes his face against the cloth to help you out. The cloth blackens quickly: one half of his face requires four dips in the bucket. You see now just how pale he is, not that ash-gray you thought it was at all—in fact, so white his veins show dark as tadpoles on his skin.

You glide the cloth below his curtained bangs. Your fingertips cave in on the crest of his cheekbone. “You okay?”

“My eyes… not able to clean. Sorry.”

“You should not sorry,” you say, in an attempt at your clearest Otherworld pronunciation. Crawling hides his eyes and downplays his height, and you are sure it is for you, so as not to repulse you—yet he cannot make you hate him if he tried. “You good.” You stroke the crown of his head, the way he likes; a giggle escapes his broadened mouth.

You do what you can—you kiss the bridge of his nose, then rise to change the water. The skin that lines his sockets has the gravity of jowls, lined in essence with the slick of fresh blood. You either cause him no pain, or he hides it for you. Really—what have you done to deserve him, who loves you so much?

(This—

You look at him as if he is a jewel in your hands. He has never been treasured. Not like this, not at all.

The breathy rumbling of his giggles, from his chest to his cheeks, brings a flutter to your heart, and a warmth to your gaze. All you have done is be fond of him, made the smallest things you do his world.

The Otherworld is simple, in that only the strong survive—and so when you show him warm, he knows you’re true, and that is all.)

[genericpuff]

am i the only one who's been bothered by mr. beast since day one because in every overly edited thumbnail and promotional picture he looks like bad taxidermy

or is it really just me who gets visceral reactions of unnerved fear which i imagine can only be leftover from my stone age ancestors who saw bared teeth and unblinking stares as a sign of aggression

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

family trip to the pub

previous part here (this doesn't follow immediately! I skipped some things, like where the hell the big deer creature came from)

and the part set at ramo nash's studio follows after

[sw1ft-sniff]

Since his first Cigarette to his first vape Proud to say I’ve been there for both Great job Tommy

THIS IS SATIRE

[cryptidclaw]

Why is everyone acting surprised about Mr Beast??? Half of what I've seen from him is just entertainment made purely off of the lower class.

HE LITERALLY MADE SQUID GAME REAL! he profits off of making people compete for just a slight chance at having a miniscule amount of his own wealth. He is dystopia. His whole platform has always been dystopia.

[firawren]

Beauty and the Beast 1991 text posts, part 11 out of ? - prev set, next set

[cervinae-canine]

i was going to have this just be a twitter thing but i changed my mind actually. y'all need to see this

[eye4muscle]

Posedown

[a-roguish-gambit]

The Mini Mutants could be the scenario for either a Mojoworld episode/storyline (The outerspace TV executive Mojo traps the X-Men in a TV show with mischiefous pocket versions of themselves) or an Arcade episode/storyline (The villain Arcade creades a videogame staring mischiefous pocket versions of the X-Men... and the catch is that they jump from the game to real life and now our heros have to deal with them).

Oooooo both are great ideas! However I had a separate idea for their origins.

An experiment for Mr. Sinister to isolate mutant essence for himself so he could use dna from other, in his opinion “less desirable” mutant specimines (ick) went wrong. For him. These little cuties are the result. And after some….mishaps….they have escaped from him and are now the X-men‘s problem.

Stay tuned to see what chaos they create!

[sometipsygnostalgic]

terezi mr beast thumbnail pose 1 BL3W UP ON3 P3RSON

1T W4S FOR TH3 CLOUT

[cybertron-after-dark]

YOUR DOODLES ARE SO SILLY GOOFY CUTIE

Anon this ask fueled me to knock out a whole page of doodles, here's the result with closeups