#THE ORIGINAL...

[unknownjpegs]

good snacks

Benny had, for the better part of the hour, been trying to get Maran in his lap. He’d made sly comments (which were more like bold statements, for him, really), gave smarmy encouraging grins, had even yanked the drivers seat back as far as it could go and patted one of his thighs. Really sold it, the whole, look, you could totally fit here, don’t you wanna fit here, wouldn’t it be so nice if you fit yourself here? Wouldn’t it be so great if you came over here and put your body on me, Maran?

So when he finally does come crawling over the center console, that real pretty smile on his face, Benny is like a kid in a candy shop. Or, he’s like Benny, but with Maran to finally touch. It’s actually a tighter squeeze than he’d figured it would be—enough so that Maran is squished over top of him, hunched like and laughing. Benny’s hands slip up under his shirt, near immediately and draw blunt fingernails down his back—turn that laugh into a bit of a groan.

And they kiss, and the whole time Benny’s brain is kicking thoughts around like crazy. Ideas pinging off his skull plate like a bullet shot in a metal room. Hard to pin one down, but they’re all, yeah, yeah, yeah, make him moan, make him say ‘please’ in that breathy cute voice, make him jerk his hips forward, make him feel good, make him feel really good which is all they really need to be.

So Benny’s hands squeeze Maran’s thighs, jerk them a little closer around him, listen to a huff of air from Maran when their lips briefly part. He doesn’t really give him enough time for air—Ben sneaks back into it, grinning, kissing with hungry ambition, with a little bit of tooth to it when he gets Maran’s bottom lip. He likes Maran sort of breathless, sort of a little out of sorts, because he’s a very sorted guy. Charming in that effortless sort of way people like him seem to be, so deeply opposite of Benny.

There is something very satisfying to making someone who always has a fast answer catch their breath, pause to figure out a word, let their suddenly runaway thoughts catch up. One of his hands runs up Maran’s chest, the whole length of it, until it’s curling around his neck, like a collar, thumb brushing over his pulse. It’s wildly thrumming hard and fast even though they’d only been kissing for a minute.

When his other hand moves with purpose, around to cup Maran’s ass, he finds a blocky piece of plastic instead.

“What the f-fuck?” Benny laughs when he pulls it free. He uses a hand to push Maran’s chest slightly, to give him space to stare at it. “Is this a fucking Gameboy?” His eyes flick up from the ancient thing, and they shouldn’t have, because Maran’s gorgeous face is a little red from all the kissing, his pupils are big and blown and begging to be kissed more. He’s breathing a little heavier and Benny’s hand is still resting on his chest. Can feel all of Maran wanting a bit more.

“Might be,” Maran answers. His arms wind up, circle Benny’s shoulders. One hand slips up into his hair, which almost makes him moan at the sensation, because he’s real stupid about people petting his hair. “Gotta keep myself entertained, yeah?”

“Are you saying I’m b-boring?”

“Up against old school Mario? S’not a fair competition, Ben, I would never make compare.”

He uses his thumb to switch the Gameboy on, not even looking, still staring at those eyes all big and hungry and wanting him to shut up about the Gameboy and maybe keep kissing. Definitely keep kissing—maybe he’d like more. Benny would make him ask, in that case. He’d say, tell me what you want, say please, describe in detail, Maran, tell me and I’ll do it. Over and over and over.

“How many hours you—you sunk into this shit?”

“Not your business, mate.”

“All of you’s my business,” Benny drawls out in that terrible New Yorker accent. He switches the game off, putting it to the center console. He watches the dark color returning to Maran’s cheekbones. He wants to see that blush travel. He wants to—

The door to the car opens swiftly, passenger side, where Maran had just crawled from.

“Ugh,” Nomi settles herself in, plastic bags overstuffed. They have the little yellow smiley face on them, crinkling and staring at Benny and Maran as they’re looped together. “They didn’t have the good stuff,” he continues complaining as she settles the bags down. The two men continue to watch her, as she punches the cars heating on higher (it doesn’t need it, Benny laments, she’s just always fucking cold for some reason). “What?”

Maran laughs first, a big snort of laughter. He sticks a hand into one of the bags, rummages a bit.

Nomi gasps, darting for the Gameboy Benny had only just discarded in favor of getting Maran to admit he wanted—well, if he continued down that route, his hard on begging for attention would get even worse.

“I fuckin’ love these things,” she says, with big appreciative eyes, holding it up next to her face like it’s a cute animal. Benny’s head rolls back, closing his eyes—they’ll go for hours now, about Mario or something and he knows he’s going to let them.

[butchlinkle]

really helpful technique ^ once you know how to divide by halves and thirds it makes drawing evenly spaced things in perspective waaay easier:

[bugsinthebayou]

cunty sukuna

[effen-draws]

A small comic about Palestine I created to appeal to more passive family and friends

Anyways if you have the money I urge you to donate to Ibraheem Hadi, a Palestinian who contacted me and whom I promised to highlight in relation to this comic:

Otherwise there is always a need for eSims to keep Gazans connected

[bluumey]

Original design by molenaide

African American Miku! There's a trend on Twitter where people are drawing Miku from different countries and in cultural clothing, and of course, I had to jump on this cute design. 🇺🇸🦅🩵

[gorjee-art]

a comic about cuddles

[blueboxbeagle]

By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

[six4tyfour]

Artist: tsulala on Twitter (X)

[taviamoth]

art by the.gauntlets

gofundme for the family

[beardedmrbean]

Original blog post

Le important day in meme history has arrived

[nikrei]

I keep seeing people use this image as a reaction to people's original posts:

Which I think is really incorrect, because with an original post they haven't come up to ur window, u've come up to their window.

So I made this, as a more accurate reaction for original posts:

[ra3kiv]

sea, swallow me

[die-rosastrasse]

Various stars & moon details from my gouache paintings 🌙✨

[cherriielle]

daphne's blessing 🌿

[a-s-fischer]

If you want a good object lesson about what we can and can't know about the past, we don't know Ea-Nasir was a dishonest merchant selling shoddy goods.

What we know is we have found a cache of complaint tablets about him selling low quality copper as high quality, in a site that was probably his own residence. We know multiple people complained he was a cheat. It's entirely possible they were right. It's also entirely possible that he kept these complaint letters as records of people he would no longer do business with, because they had made accusations and threats in order to bully him into giving them free copper. That is an equally valid interpretation of the evidence.

My point is not that we have maligned Ea-Nasir, my point is that thousands of years later, we do not and cannot know.

[mayhemchicken-artblog]

in the hour or so it took me to draw this op turned reblogs off

EDIT: reblogs are STAYING OFF. op was right and correct and i have never regretted making a post as much as this one. if you want to reblog my art you can reblog something else from my blog. or commission me, lord knows i deserve financial compensation for the nightmare this post has put me through