#THERE IS SO MANY MISTAKES

[b0mblover]

It’ll be Okay in the End

By: J

cw; selfharm, generally negative thoughts, blood (etc everything that comes with sh)

lopt essentially has a silent breakdown and mason comforts him or smth idk im not good at summeries,

[Note; this was wrote out of my own desperation for comfort, not romanizing sh, i do not encourage or believe anyone should do this to themselves, seek help.]

i uh, actually had a easier time writing this than most things, probably because ive been essentially replaying this whole scene in my head for literal years! i for once wasnt upset when i wrote this, i was very tired tho! uh i have alot more to say but hawaii part ii lopt is taking over my brain again, so im gonna go do that! have fun with my depressed 100% projected loptson ig!

•

lopt was in ‘his’ so called room, scribbling away at some paper,

mason was rather concerned, hearing frustrated noises constantly, what sounded like pencils breaking,

they had been “partners” officially for 3 months now, mason had always cared about lopt to an extent, partner or not, but this was… odd.

sure lopt had his own life, hobbies, but he didnt care to keep /that/ much from mason, especially whenever he asked,

but, this was different.

lopt had came home from wherever the fuck he was- hell if mason knew details- annoyed, he stormed off to some room, when mason tried to ask what was wrong he only blew him off saying that “its none of your fucking business, you wouldnt get it anyways”

•

lopt was scribbling away in his notepad, despite being a god and literally being immortal, he still couldnt force creativity to come to him,

it was his fifth time trying,

most drawings resulted in poorly scribbled out lines,

he had went out to try and get inspiration for “some project” though he didnt really /have/ anything to work on, starting a new drawing always seemed to be a block for him,

he sat down his broken (6b) pencil, (rather violently but he didnt want to acknowledge that) and got up, he knew somewhere in him, that he needed a break, he walked out of his room to get water, but his mind wouldnt leave him alone,

constant thoughts about how awful his art was spewed around

“youre not “talented”, youre worthless”

“itd be better to quit now”

“just rip up the damn papers, theyre ugly anyways”

“imagine- you could just go and alleviate all this pain, just with that knife-“

he tried to push down his thoughts,

grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with water,

the knives in the butcher block seemed so… tempting,

most of him /knew/ that he shouldnt- that it was wrong, that mason would be disappointed- disgusted, if he found out about his thoughts,

but, he couldnt help it,

all memories of the nights he got up from their bed to take part in something that would disgust his partner made him sick.

questions runned through his head as he sipped on his water, leaning onto the counter

“would he be sad?”

“would he care?”

“would he call me names?”

“tell me how pathetic i am?”

“leave me?”

“would he hate me?”

“tell me how ugly my body is”

“tell me how he hates the scars”

“tell me just how much he despises me”

the voices grew louder wither every question,

saying that he wanted mason to hate him,

that he did hate him,

in the very back of lopts mind, in the tiniest corner, he knew it all wasnt true, that he was being dramatic over nothing,

but even then, the memories of all the times he loved someone- all the times he didnt question if they hated him, what they all said to him,

he felt like doubting himself was the only way to have them not leave,

to not abandon him,

he took a deep breath before sighing, realizing his cup was empty, he decided that he had enough of a “break” and that he needed to start “working” again,

•

mason was sitting on the couch, some random tv show playing for background noise, when lopt wasnt “there” it was almost too quiet, in a way, mason had grown to love how loud and chaotic the house was with lopt- even if thery were the only two people in it.

he seen lopt walk into the kitchen for around 8~ minutes before he trudged his way into his room once more,

he didnt know excatly as to what lopt was doing,

granted whatever it was had to have been important, he didnt usually spend 3+ hours in a room alone silently, it started to make him worry, was lopt sick? just why did he seem so upset when he came home? is he okay? did he hurt himself?

•

lopt sat down at his desk once more, staring at the scribbled page, a sphere, he couldnt figure out how to shade it properly on the background,

he sighed turning his attention to the top left drawer,

he stood up walking over to his dresser, pulling out another drawer, he took out a roll of bandages, and some tissues, 

he knew that he shouldnt, that it was essentially pointless, that hed feel better soon enough,

but that fear crept back up,

“what about last time you didnt? remember? it got only worse because you didnt”

he rubbed the sides of his nose bridge, the voices were annoying, they knew that he was gonna, even without the encouragement.

he sat back down at his desk, sitting the tissues to his right and the badages to his left before pulling out the left hand drawer,

he rummaged through it, various miscellaneous items, before coming across a box,

a red box, seemingly quiet old, with yellow letters reading “do it” on the front,

he took one out, ‘unwrapping’ the razor blade,

straight edge,

he stared at it, contemplating just what hes doing with his life,

“i cant draw, i cant write, i cant make people happy, i cant make music, i can only recite the tales others have told, im worthless, im doless, i will never amount to anything or anyone in my life, god or not, human or not, this is deserved, if i cannot create, then i at lease deserve to bleed”

a mantra he told himself, attempting to poorly justify his actions,

•

mason listened at the door, hearing nothing, no pencil, no walking, almost no breathing, he didnt know everything about lopt, sure, but he knew that he didnt look well off, and what boyfriend would he be to his partner if he wasnt concerned?

they had an unspoken rule to always at least knock before walking into the others space, granted they had seen every part of each other, it was just a courtesy they had, 

though, something felt off,

mason felt as if he shouldnt knock, that lopt was hiding something,

all those sleepless nights where lopt comforted him abundantly, he had felt him get up, a few times he had caught lopt in the basement, he didnt know just what he was doing, he always hid something,

he didnt want to break any boundaries sure, thatd be rude and disrespectful, but, he had a weird feeling in his gut that it was for lopts own saftey,

“please forgive me for this” he muttered to himself,

sharply inhaling before opening the door,

simply greeted by lopts back.

•

lopt heard the door open, he had three lines going diagonally down his right arm, bleeding, he fumbled the razor, dropping it onto the floor, it had gotten rather dark by now, so it probably wouldnt be seen, he attempted to get the tissues, he had always been a great liar,

“ill just say i accidentally cut myself, if he asks what i was doing with a weapon, ill deflect and say i was being stupid”

it seems like he fumbled the tissues for a bit too long.

“hey”

mason said over his shoulder,

he moved his left hand to cover the cuts,

“o-oh, hey, whats wrong?”

“hm, well, i mean nothing? i guess, what are you doing?”

“i- you guess? is something the matter?”

mason had noticed he was oddly covering his forearm,

“you ignored my question.”

“huh?”

“i asked what youre doing.”

masons tone sounded alot more pissed off, granted he wasnt, just concered more than anything,

“o-oh i um, ok dont laugh but uh- i was trying to draw”

“and why are you covering your arm? are you hurt?”

“i- huh? wh- no, no! i uh, may have also been playing with a blade and accidentally scraped myself, nothing much”

“let me see”

“what?”

“let me see your injury”

lopt was taken aback, all of his previous partners never asked to see his wounds, scars sure but never his wounds, even if they werent self inflicted, he was shocked, he hadnt planned for this.

“i- i assure you dear, it isnt anything to worry about-“

“let me see it. are you hiding something?”

in that moment lopt felt small, like a child almost, weak, helpless, he didnt know how he could get out of this without mason either finding out or being suspicious of him.

“i- here”

lopt moved his left arm to mason, there were a few small cuts on it, though rather old looking,

lopt moved his right arm off the table, into the shadows to not call attention to it.

“uh huh, now the other?”

lopt seen his eternal life flash before his very eyes.

his mind went on autopilot and raised his right arm, he usually would fight but, he knew itd be pointless, mason would just worry more, thus making him keep a closer eye on lopt, he didnt want to feel selfish, not like that,

“oh my, i- oh my god,”

mason was shocked, he had suspected that lopt had hurt himself in the past, granted the scars,

but, he didnt think he still did it, sure the weird behavior, but it never really dawned on him until that moment.

.

mason had brought (more like dragged) lopt to the bathroom, running the slits under cool water, putting pressure to hopefully get the bleeding under control, he opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out another roll of bandages,

he stood behind lopt washing the blood off, still slightly in shock,

“why?”

“huh?”

“why do you do this?”

masom questioned, fully aware of the long list lopt was about to give out,

“i- well, i dunno..”

lopts voice trailed off before starting again,

“i mean, i dont even know why i do this, it just feels good? like i can do something right? it makes me feel like im not worthless”

mason hummed for a second before choosing his words

“do you feel normally that youre worthless?”

“i guess so, i dont know why, i have the best boyfriend, my life is great, i just dont know..”

“mmhm, what were you trying to draw?”

“i dont know. does it matter?”

lopt shot back

“well, you seemed frustrated at it, so im sure it’s important to you yeah? so then it’s important to me”

mason brought his hands around lopts wrist, rubbing it slightly attempting to calm him down

“i- i dont know, i just, i feel frustrated, so i tried to draw, but drawing makes me feel more frustrated, so i did this- an- and n-now-“

lopt began to stutter, tears swelling up in his eyes, mason had only seen him cry on a few occasions,

“shh- shh its okay, i know what youre saying, breath, okay?”

lopt inhaled deeply, feeling masons left hand move to wipe the tears away,

he didnt even know why he was crying,

mason bandaged lopts arm slightly tight, 

“shh, now, you wanna talk about this? or wait a little bit longer to calm down?”

“c-calm down”

“alright alright, shh youre okay, see?”

mason lead lopt into his bedroom, taking lopts hand under the covers as he had done for him every sleepless night,

lopt could feel his eyelids starting to droop, the warmth of his boyfriend comforting him, the love of his boyfriend comforting him,

he shoved his head into masons chest, finding it to be the most comfortable spot out of the entire bed,

mason ruffled his hair, slowly stroking his hand on his neck,

“y’know, you may be a god,

and you may be immortal, but,

ill be with you for as long as you need, in this life and after”

lopt didnt respond, just slightly nodded his head before burrying it deeper into masons chest, 

maybe tonight wasnt so bad after all,

spending time with mason- no, his boyfriend, was never bad.

lopt faded in and out of sleep, trying to fight the melatonin being produced, just to feel the sweet touch of his boyfriends skin, before he completely felt himself drift away, he heard him speak,

“I love you, i love you so much, never forget that, in this life and the next, ill always love you, lopt.”

[starspilli]

laundry day

(pls click for better quality!)

[blended-ice]

One more kiss

[bold-embrace]

How much longer can you keep lying

[luck-of-the-drawings]

posted this forever ago as part of a bigger compilation BUT i think it deserves to stand on its own. i was gonna add more color BUT that didnt happen; thus it doesnt translate aswell that hes freezing the water around him. BUT now you aware and you can see it. you can see it

[ca-3]

Been a while, but more P5 x Omori battle screens‼️ This time with Goro Akechi fights 💔

● Extra P5 x Omori battle screens

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael and William look EXACTLY alike in FNAF

[zhukzucraft]

the results are in

Grian: -Joe and Doc!

Etho: Oh, snap

Martyn: Welcome, noobs

Grian: So now that we're all here-

. . .

=====> Be Joe Hills

[hungharrington]

Thinking about Steve cumming quickly - like under 30 seconds of thrusting because he's just so in love with you he couldn't help it

He hides his face in your neck afterwards all embarrassed and you rub his back to bring him back down from the intensity of it all

To add to this - he also has certain triggers that make him cum immediately.

You say you love him, he cums. You scratch at his tummy/happy trail, he cums. You gently pull on his hair, he cums.

My apologies if these thoughts have already been given but it's all I've been thinking about this morning 😭😭

a most delicious ask i’ve been hoarding 🫶 i LOVE all these thoughts i’m sry i didn’t get to incorporate all of them !! is this hot? idk…. but it’s got sum love in it tehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Look, Steve Harrington doesn’t have his reputation for nothing, okay?

He’s a ladies man, through and through. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his hands, he loves getting his face in between a pair of thighs, and perhaps most importantly, he is not a minute man.

Steve Harrington has stamina.

At least, he certainly thought he did— but that was before you. But in his defense, nobody told him that sex is a hundred times better when you love the person. A thousand better if they love you back.

And, god, does he fucking love you.

You’re a dream— all laid out on the bed beneath him, chest bare and eyes soft and heavy. Your lips are sheened with spit and all kiss-bitten and Steve has no doubt he looks the same. Kissing you never gets old. His cock throbs, aching for some friction and just begging to be buried inside you.

“Well?” You say, somewhere between a tease and a breathy gasp. “What’re you waiting for?”

Your fingers slip into the waistband of your panties but Steve is quick to knock them away, replacing them with his own hands. He grins up at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can’t let you do my favourite part now, can I?”

You giggle. With that his fingers start to trail down your naval, slow and sensually, dragging the fabric with them. Your hips move to accommodate him and your breath hitches as he drags them down your thighs that part as he wrangles them off your ankles, inviting him in.

Steve nearly groans at the mere sight—a hot surge twisting in his tummy that goes straight to his cock. God, he must be losing blood with how much blood is rushing to harden it up. Or maybe he’s just too enamoured with you and that’s enough to make him breathless. Either way, he’s aching.

“God, baby,” He says, voice gravelly. “Just look at you.”

His hands shift up from grasping lightly at your ankles up, up, up, til he’s nudging your thighs apart further. His dark eyes flick up to your face, his expression one of hunger.

“Y’so pretty, honey,” He coos.

You flush, feeling somehow more naked at his compliment, knowing he’s being sincere. Reaching up, you drape your hand around his neck and urge him forward slowly, pressing up to scrape your lips against his.

“Oh, yeah?” You breathe, your lips twitching up at the obvious way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. “Which part of me’s so pretty?”

Steve chuckles, his gaze switching between your own and says, “All of you,” before he kisses you like he’s starved of the taste of you.

Breaking the kiss, he leans back and his hand disappears into his bedside table for a condom. He makes quick work of it, pausing to give himself a firm squeeze around the base as he does— fuck, he’s going to bust the moment he gets inside of you if he doesn’t take a moment.

But you’re so damn hot — and eyeing him with a heavy desire that makes his tummy hot. He’s not sure he can wait.

He shifts himself up and settles on his hands on your thigh, pushing it back further so he can line himself up and sink in tantalisingly slow. Your cunt is warm and wet, drawing a whiny moan from his throat, and Steve’s head drops into the curve of your shoulder in an instant.

“Fuck,” He hisses, hips flexing to hold back from pushing himself all the way in—a near impossible task considering the breathy little noise you make. God, fuck, fuck, he can’t move another inch or he’ll lose it. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He gasps.

Your arms looped around his neck tighten, pressing your chest up against his as you make a noise of agreement. You begin to mouth lazily up his throat, feeling the throb of his cock between your legs like a heartbeat, burning hotter and hotter.

“Cmon, Steve,” you whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. Steve keens, his hips shoving forward bit more as he tries to contain himself. “Want you to fuck me,”

He makes another pitiful noise that he’d probably be embarrassed of if he wasn’t so gone. He follows your instructions quickly, shifting his hips so he can start slowing fucking into you. It’s lewd, soft wet noises sounding as he builds up a rhythm, sinking himself into you over and over. Pleasure drools through his gut.

“Stevie,” you pout, panting lightly. “Can’t— can’t see you,” You tug on his hair lightly, trying to encourage his face out of hiding but only succeeding in making him whimper. His cheeks burn hotly but he forces his face up, kissing along your jaw as he does.

His eyes crease open as he pulls back and Steve keens at the sight of you, his plush lips parting in a soft pant. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Normally he’d be still murmuring filthy things into your skin, marking up your neck while his hips roll into you, all does that feel good? and oh, it does when you moan in response.

Instead, he’s the one coming apart and beyond his words. You scrape your hand through his hair again and leave it cupped sweetly on his jaw, your eyes watching closely. Swatching your thumb across his cheek, you moan lightly, “Wanna -uh- wanna see your face, baby— love your pretty face,”

Something tightens up in Steve’s tummy, heat flourishing up his spine and he whimpers loudly, the roll of his hips turning the rapid, jerky thrusts in a moment. Skin slaps against skin and you make the cutest noise at the change of pace. It feels so good—too good. He feels too close, his pleasure scratching the edge of release.

Then you stutter out a breathy, “I love you, Steve,” and the coil in his stomach snaps without warning.

Steve gasps loudly and his entire body tightens, his face burying itself in you neck as his hips fuck into your snug cunt desperately. He all but collapses onto you, his hands curling around your waist tightly as he lets out a string of pathetically whiny noises, coming undone far too quickly.

It takes a moment for you to realise what’s happened— to figure out exactly why Steve suddenly sinks him cock into you with fervor and is whimpering in your ear. He’s trembling lightly you realise, as your arms sweep down his back, letting him fuck through his orgasm.

The pleasure of it drags out and by the time it tapers out, mortification begins to set in. Steve’s only glad he’s hidden his face so you can’t see his flaming cheeks. Fuck. Fuck. He’s never finished that fast before.

“I’m so sorry, you just feel— and you said—” He starts, voice sounding wrecked.

“Don’t apologise,” you interrupt sweetly. You stroke down his back soothingly and Steve can’t help but shiver. He groans loudly.

“Don’t apologise for finishing after 1 minute like a 16 years old virgin?” He asks, going for sarcastic but failing with the embarrassment tinting his tone.

You can’t help but giggle, hand still sweeping over his back comfortingly as you say, “I don’t think that was even a minute, babe.”

Steve groans louder, attempting to press his face further into your neck and nipping at it when you laugh a little louder. You’re being way too sweet about this. Steve’s not sure he can ever show his face again.

“I’m banning you from saying ‘i love you’ in bed,” He says, the words muffled against your skin. You huff another laugh, grinning, and comb your fingers through his hair.

“Boo.” You pout, knowing he’s joking completely. You’re still throbbing and aching for him to keep moving but you know you only have to be patient. He’ll fuck you just as you need it. “You’re no fun.”

“I used to have stamina,” He whines. “What have you done to me?”

You chuckle again, turning and pressing a kiss to his temple as best you can. “Turned you full loverboy. Soon enough, any time I say I love you, you’ll pop a boner.”

From within you, you feel the soft twitch of his dick and Steve’s breath hitches again. He finally digs his face out of your neck, a serious furrow between his brows. “Don’t even joke about that!”

[theoldkyokodied]

If you follow my main you had to know this was coming… anyway. Enjoy these bloodweave doodles :)

[carnationhes]

some quick lil screencap redraws

[satelliteduster]

oh my god i forgot to post my absolute favorite strip from gay comix (issue #2, 1981)

[lesbianjennette]

and i dont wanna go home

let me walk to the top of the big night sky

[juniemunie]

more deltarune sansnomaly cuz its feeding the ideas a lot

bonus:

[allastoredeer]

Ya'll want to know the funniest shit?

I'm researching the era when Alastor was alive right now to get a better idea of both his character, the life he lived before Hell, and to hash out a backstory for him.

And so, apparently, Alastor lived through the Prohibition (which was basically the United States government illegalizing the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol because they thought it was the cause of a lot of domestic violence and child abandonment).

Alastor canonically died in 1933.

Do you know how long the Prohibition lasted?

From 1920-1933.

ALASTOR LITERALLY DIED THE SAME YEAR ALCOHOL BECAME LEGAL AGAIN. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW BITTER HE MUST'VE BEEN?

The Prohibition officially ended on December 5, 1933, and now my headcanon is that Alastor died December 6, 1933. Literally the day after he could legally drink all the booze he wanted.

I am learning a LOT about New Orleans and the era Alastor lived through (including the gay community in the city at the time) which has been a lot of fun, and I just wanted to share that tidbit because it is so fucking funny to me.