#actually no filters for once

[coelii]

So I took a chance and aside from pencil liner and mascara I did no other makeup today and I think I still kinda look good? wtf?

[c6jpg]

Well? Have I convinced you yet?

[elderwisp]

𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔄𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔰 𝔯𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔖𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

chinese guzhuang fashion

[anxiouspotatorants]

I think a (not big but still there) part of why Jess was having such a hard time admitting that he worked at Walmart was that he would have to admit that Dean was working for the independent mom-and-popstore movement (at least pre Soda-shoppe) while Jess anti-establishment-counter-culture-wannabe-punk-rock Mariano himself was working for The Man

[arctixout]

x

[mossy-paws]

Lightblox (PHIGHTING!)

“And I’m floating in a most peculiar way, And the stars look very different today.”

alt versions:

[citruscore]

they have gilfs down in hell??

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

u ever get like accidentally mildly invested in a crack ship

[stangalina]

The never ending battle

[arihi]

Abuse >:) I won't even toggle anon

(CW: Abusive dynamics and abuse (per the prompt) - skip if that's not your thing!)

“Again.”

I flinched instinctively, my stomach dropping when I heard laughter instead of the tell-tale snap of a riding crop and the associated pain. I felt nothing but deadened, faded welts, the chill of the floor against my knees, and a queasiness in the pit of my stomach.

“Oh darling,” Trina cooed. “What’s the matter?”

“N-Nothing,” I stammered lamely. I pulled my wrists against the restraints, the chains clacking against the pipes and the sounds echoing throughout the basement.

“Why it almost seemed…” She ran her fingers gently down the raised welts across my chest. “…like you didn’t like me.”

“That’s not true!” I blurted out. “I love you, Trina, I do, I just-” I hated disappointing her. “…Can we maybe move out of the basement at least? It’s cold and I like your bed better,” I pleaded in a desperate attempt to have boundaries. And yet, that wasn’t what I really wanted. My skin burned, my muscles ached at the position I had been holding for what felt like hours, and I was ready to stop. I never even wanted to start it, at least not tonight.

But starting here could be the first step.

“Baby, you know I can’t do that.” Trina looked concerned. “Last time, well…you know you’re a screamer, right?” She played at shyness, though I knew she had delighted in my screams at the time. “Last time we were playing, the neighbors heard, and that was a whole thing…and you’ve only just barely made up for it.” Her eyes looked like they were shimmering with tears.

The queasiness again. I looked back down. “…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She pet my hair soothingly. “That’s why we’re down here.”

“I—” I swallowed a lump in my throat. Asserting boundaries. No is a complete sentence. My comfort is a priority. “I don’t want to…'play' anymore. Can we be done? A-at least tonight?” Hesitation had crept through into my voice in the last sentence, but that was the most I had said as a challenge to her in what felt like ages, and a part of me was proud.

“You what?” Trina frowned.

I grimaced from the wave of nausea that slammed into my battered body. Alarm bells went off in my brain, as if I’d made a horrible mistake, as if I’d just committed such a grievous wrong that the very core of my being shuddered in disgust.

“I just mean, I mean we’ve been doing this for a while, and aren’t you tired? We could both take a break!” I desperately recanted, anything to get rid of that feeling.

She stood there, frowning at me, my physical discomfort growing exponentially, my body attempting to curl inwards in agony, if only my arms hadn’t been tied to the pipes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I started mumbling, tears wetting my cheeks. “I won’t do it again.” Shame and humiliation and a rush of chemical pleasure flooded my veins, my body sinking into a sigh of relief, the pleasurable throbbing of my body. Fuck.

“That’s a good girl.” Her face broke out into a wide smile. “I’m so glad you understand. You know, I hate being mad at you. And it’s not right for a relationship to just be one-sided. Fighting is healthy for relationships. I want you to be able to challenge me on things, and then when you’re done and we both come to a solution, I want it to feel good for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” I whimpered, my toes curled and fists balled up trying to bear the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Aw baby, it’s okay!” Her sickly-sweet voice dug its claws into me, comforted the inner turmoil in my mind. “Just relax, okay? I know you’re so good at doing that for me. Doesn’t it feel better to just, drop it? To relax?”

“Yeeesss…” It came from the back of my throat in one long sigh, like I was relieving my stress and losing a part of myself with every deep breath. It came from the back of my throat like all the other times I’d said yes to her, like all the times I agreed, all the times I relented…

“What’s this?” She swatted at my crotch with the crop lightly, the fabric of my underwear sticking to my skin. “Are you getting turned on by this?” She spat out with a sneer.

…Like all the times I came.

My ears burned. “I—”

“Sweetie, sweetie.” Trina’s voice softened again. “It’s okay, to like the things that you like. No one can judge you here, okay?” She hugged me gently as I leaned my tired body against her legs.

“But, out there…those neighbors,” she whispered, saddened. “Who knows what they’d tell people if they knew what you did? What you were into? What got you so fucking wet?” She ripped the thin, flimsy fabric from me, the coolness of the air on my slick skin a stark contrast to how feverish my head felt. “It’d be bad, right?” I nodded against her absentmindedly.

“Then we can’t tell anyone, right?” She knelt and met me at eye-level, face to face. “We can never tell anyone about your deepest desires? Your shames?”

“No…” I sighed, a part of my soul fading away with my breath.

“It’s better not to tell anyone about what goes on in this household really, people can be so nosy.” She rolled her eyes with a grin.

“Yes…” My body felt heavier than it’d ever been, my eyes threatening to close.

“Good.” For a brief second her eyes softened, a genuine, small smile on her face. Those were the fleeting moments I lived for. I knew she was a good person who just played at being harsh. Because I was asking for it. Because I deserved it. Because she loved me. Right?

Her eyes lit up in rapturous glee. “Well, without further ado.” She jammed the discarded panties into my mouth, her fingers uncomfortably prying my jaw open as I choked on the fabric being stuffed into the back of my throat.

“Remember, no screaming.”

---

(a short story for sleepingirl, a wicked pervert)

[dol-dee]

I'm considering doing a lil mock up (as in packaging design) for the cigarettes Dee smokes. Ive already kinda settled on a name and it might be fun!! ....I'll put it on the pile..

[queennnyyyjaneen]

Couldn’t decide which one. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[capfalcon]

btw media literacy is not the same thing as english class and i am please begging people to read more about media literacy because it is so far from english class, signed sincerly someone with a degree in media studies

[nyctoheart]

as one shoots a gun in the air to keep rent low, I have to occasionally say I don’t care for s0riku to keep myself from being overwhelmed by my followers lmao

[rhineposting]

POSSIBLY TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved

I am loved...?

Once more, I cannot stress enough that this depiction is not meant to be perceived in a positive light whatsoever - despite the drawing being referenced from a painting typically associated with romance.

The intention was to convey how in that particular scenario, Hunter's perception of reality and his relationship with Belos is warped from his inner turmoils resulting both from that unhealthy infatuation as well as the abuse he endured.

As he's desperate for any positive emotional stimuli, he clings onto what little vulnerability and intimacy Belos offers him - glamorizing it in his brain and treating it as evidence that Belos isn't actually horrible, without realising that they are a form of abuse too, designed to keep him loyal and in line.

And almost last but not least, I am still not a licensed professional in psychology. All my knowledge on abuse comes from personal and thus to some degree subjective observation of both fiction and reality, you know the drill.

Image Description : A painting of Belos and Hunter from The Owl House, morbidly referencing the painting "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt. Much like the original painting, it is colored mostly in yellows, oranges and warm browns.

To the right, Hunter is shown wearing his Golden Guard uniform, his white cape adorned with patterns consisting of orange dots and brown vines shaped into spirals. He looks off to the side with an expression of both exhaustion and bitter fulfillment at the same time, as he's slightly smiling. His left hand is gently laid over Belos' hand and wrist, which is holding him by the chin in what he believes to be an affectionate gesture.

To the left stands an alternate version of Belos that does not exist in canon, as he appears significantly younger with brown hair, with his blemishes being colored blue : referencing his initial storyboard version.

He is wearing a black robe with a white cape and brown pauldrons over it, resembling the clothes he was first shown in. The cape is adorned with rectangular orange, white and brown patterns, momentarily covered up with circular cross-hatching : also brown colored.

Despite holding Hunter's face by his chin and by the back of his head in what appears to be a tender and intimate gesture, he stares down at Hunter with a neutral expression that borders on being resentful : to which Hunter is oblivious. His left eye, which is obscured by the shadows, emits a slight blue glow.

The background meanwhile is painted over with light brown colored spirals, waves and yellow dots that are overlaid on top of a yellow and golden background. The patterns form no specific shape. End description.