#period proud

[liquidstar]

If my mom sees a significant amount of blood she gets lightheaded, and has fainted on some occasions. Once it happened when we were kids, I wasn't there to witness it but I heard the story from my dad. Basically my brothers, around 7 or 8 at the time, were playing outside while my mom was making their lunch, and she accidentally cut her finger. It wasn't anything serious, but it drew a fair bit of blood and she passed out. My dad saw this and rushed over, but he didn't really know what to do so he just sort of started slapping her to wake her up (not recommended, but he had no idea and panicked)

At that exact moment my brothers both came in from playing, and all they saw was our mom unconscious on the floor and our dad slapping her. So, like, without even saying a word to each other they both just INSTANTLY start whaling on him, like, full blown attack mode to defend our mom. Which obviously didn't help the situation, but she did wake up and everything was fine.

Now our dad says that he's actually really glad they attacked him over what they thought was going on, because it means he raised good boys. And I still think that's true, they're very good boys.

[nittroy]

THE @hermitzine 8 IS OUT!!!! AND IT'S MUSIC EDITION AND THERE'S MY WORK 😳💥🎷✨✨

The Creeper Symphony - the preparation phase!!! It's set inside of Ren's music shop and I don't care if the timeline doesn't make sense!! And also all the musical instruments are working on redstone somehow :D There are so many cool zine works!!! Please check them all here: https://hermitzine.gumroad.com/l/hcze8

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ DUTY-BOUND ꒱ AKAGAMI NO SHANKS X READER

warnings ⟢ minors do not interact—i will block you! very suggestive. alcohol use. period talk. foot worship. scent kink. female reader. reader and shanks are married, and shanks uses a few pet names—some silly, some serious—including: “lady love” / “ma’am” / “my love” / “my wife.” please note that shanks only has his right arm.

word count ⟢ 1115

notes ⟢ this is part of @ficsforgaza’s kinktober event! my prompt was shanks + period sex. this is my first time writing shanks, and truthfully, it reignited my lust for him... i hope i did him justice. please enjoy!

“What’s running through that pretty head of yours?”

It’s late; you lost track of time when the sky was still an azure ocean, the sun floating peerless in its splendor. An expensive—now empty—bottle of spiced rum lies at your feet, its warmth eddying through your veins, limbs steeped in honey. Swathed in night’s royal velvet, your hotel room is illuminated only by shivering candlelight and stray moonbeams. You left the balcony door ajar. Outside, the balmy breeze stirs palm leaves, and the sea’s siren song plays, ebbing and flowing with the tide.

For the first time in months, you’re on a real bed. Swapping your trusty hammock for a down-filled mattress feels like a luxury—one you refuse to take for granted. While your earlier beachside dinner left you satiated and wooed, your date led you to a nearby bar for drinks and dancing. Laughter rang in your ears as you draped your wrists over his broad shoulders, a thick arm anchored low across your hips, chin kissing the top of your head. The merriment concluded with what he insisted would be a “borrowed” bottle of rum.

(“Cap’s favorite,” he whispers conspiratorially against your temple, cradling the stolen cargo inside the billowing fabric of his cape.)

But as you lounge in bed together, your mind wanders. Shanks rests on his side, head propped up with his right arm. You’re curled against his bare chest, the vitality of his battle-worn flesh and the ardent beat of his heart setting your nerves alight. His hooked nose is buried in your hair, lips pressed to your crown.

“Nothing much,” you belatedly reply.

“Hmm…” He pulls back to study your expression, playful gaze narrowing, mapping the contours of your profile as though he’s navigating an uncharted island. After a few beats of silence, he finally announces: “I think you’re hiding something from me.”

“Oh, is that so?”

He hums. “You always have something to complain about.”

(That earns him a swift smack to the shoulder.)

“Ouch!” he gasps, face contorting in mock anguish. “My lady love wounds me.”

“If you must know,” you huff, ignoring his antics to instead twirl a delicate finger through his chest hair, “it’s my time of the month. So I’m not exactly feeling my best and brightest.”

“I see…Is that it?”

You indulge the petulant urge to roll your eyes. “If only I could ball up my pain and force it upon you, Mr. Can’t-Leave-His-Hammock-All-Day-When-He-Has-A-Mild-Cough.”

“No—you misunderstand me,” he sighs.

Slipping his arm beneath your waist, he shifts to hover above you, the ring hanging from the golden chain around his neck gleaming with reflected moonlight. His frame is almost comically large; almost. The way he so effortlessly maneuvers you, his body eclipsing yours, trapping you in place—forcing you to stare up at him: your captain, your lover, your husband—has heat blooming in your belly.

“What I mean is that there are ways to deal with this sort of pain.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, craning your neck to brush your lips against the ring; his jaw flexes. “Enlighten me, then,” you challenge.

You’ve fallen right into his trap and you know it. His grin is devastatingly radiant. Vast and blinding as the horizon on a cloudless day, it holds a sly promise. He leans down, lips grazing yours, breath so sweet your teeth ache. “Yes ma’am.”

Shanks considers himself lucky that you’re mostly undressed: your frame drowns in one of his old, sun-bleached shirts, the excess fabric pooling at your thighs. Underneath it, a simple pair of cotton panties is all that separates him from what he desires most.

Sliding down the length of your form, his excitement is apparent as it strains against his breeches. He nudges the hem of your makeshift nightgown with his nose, teasing it upward, careful to scrape the stubble on his cheeks and chin across your tender flesh. Continuing until the garment reaches the apex of your thighs, he then bites down on the soft linen, dragging it up to your hips with his teeth.

When you raise an eyebrow—Leaving your work half-finished, Akagami? he can hear you goad—he rasps, “I quite enjoy this view. As long as my love doesn’t mind, that is.”

(If the quickening of your pulse is anything to go by, you don’t mind in the slightest.)

Sitting back on his heels, he skims his fingers along the sinuous outline of your leg, supple hip to the arch of your foot. He splays his palm across your ankle, rough thumb stroking the bone. Gingerly, he raises your foot to his mouth, blotting a kiss against the sole before lifting his lips to your toes, slick pink peeking out, messily dragging his tongue across each digit. His eyes never leave yours, stormy with lust—fresh ichor seeping onto the salt-damp deck of a pirate ship: sublime.

Even in the throes of worship, crimson strands marring his vision, he looks every bit the Emperor he is.

Soon, he works his way back between your legs, wasting little time as he shoves his face into the seam of your underwear, inhaling deeply with a groan. You want to harass him for acting like an ill-trained mutt, but the knowledge that he’s getting off on your scent—that after a day of exploring and sweating and bleeding he still yearns for you—makes your head fuzzy.

You clear your throat. “Shanks. You don’t have to…you know.”

He doesn’t move even a hair’s breadth, eyelids heavy, the low rumble of his voice resounding in your core as he drawls, “I’m a big boy; a bit of blood isn’t gonna hurt me.”

His hand creeps downward, slowly—purposefully—until it rests atop your final layer. His fore and middle fingers sneak past the waistband and tangle in your pubic hair. Meanwhile, he stretches his thumb out to stroke your aching clit, featherlight, still not touching you directly.

“Besides,” he adds, no mirth in his manner for the first time all evening, “it’s my duty to help my wife.”

[alienssstufff]

📝

on topic of the qsmp zine: prop designs of slimeriana treats youll see show up in one of my pieces

one day ill make one large full ramble on these contributions when it absolutely is ok to post them - not-suspicious preview of my second paintin :]

[heatherchasesyou]

GUESS WHO MADE A COVER ART FOR A BREAKCORE TRACK DEDICATED TO VINCENT ON SOUNDCLOUD AWOOOOOOOOOOO

THERE IT GOOEEES

[akiraal]

it's time to klance-fy bro movies

[notthesaint]

Experimentation wip

Guys I am not pregnant but I may have birth and delivered a new art style.

[felinedae]

I have to kill the demon in my head that tells me the things I color on my phone are less postable

[bitchslapblastoids]

do you remember exactly where you were when basically im gay dropped? are there other d&p videos/content that you’ve had that experience with? am reminiscing and curious

[pemberlaey]

if anybody cares my essay on may welland / the systemic infantilization of young women in old new york high society was finally published <3

[valtsv]

i'm not blaming anyone because there's literally no way you could know but whenever people say "i'm shocked you aren't already a fan of/aware of this pop culture thing" it always makes me a bit sad because. yeah i guess i probably would have been if i'd been allowed to have interests and casual hobbies that weren't constantly scrutinized and only deemed acceptable if they contributed towards my future academic development as a kid. maybe if i'd been allowed to use a computer or phone without my parents constantly breathing down my neck about what i was using them for and punishing me and further restricting my access to the internet if they caught me seeking out any kind of social or recreational interaction there that wasn't pre-approved and regularly checked to ensure i wasn't saying or doing anything that didn't suit their traditional conservative nuclear family sensibilities (or just, like, having fun in a way they couldn't understand tbh). maybe i would have been able to just like. enjoy things. maybe i would have had friends.

[leonardcohenofficial]

my dissertation has finally been made available to read online! for friends interested in checking it out—or for anyone who has interest in reading about alienation and countercultural performance—feel free to message me and i'd be happy to send it your way <3

[nottheratking]

Hi, I drew Hector :D

Season 2 spoilers

Hector is literally like my second favorite character and I think it’s criminal I haven’t drawn him earlier, also the scene when he was carving out the heart was so sweet I can’t

Had to include the best girls ever, I would die for both of these dogs

[kr0w9yu]

yotasuke knows whether he calls yatora a good boy or not, he will still be happy so this time he just hits him with this move

i mean

[emblazons]

an epistolary labyrinth of absences.

Phoenixflare Week || Day 4: Touch-Starved (pt ii) (long distance) Phoenixflare + So We Must Meet Apart

"In this light, two violinists faced each other—a man and a woman. The woman had her back to me. Their bows were like warped mirror images, one stretching out and up as the other pushed down and in, the two lines moving in relation. And in this manner, they made not the same music but an overlapping. I began to wonder in that moment (and I still wonder now) why my lips twitch at each discordant twoness. Is it joy? A grimace? Recognition?"

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

harry, as venus by botticelli

the birth of harry finally come to life, thanks to the incredible visions depicted in de amore ex tempore, a fic by @persephoneflouwers that has me dreaming like i haven't in a while. thank you <3