#the sweaty bangs

[hyukascampfire]

this is one of my absolute favorite hueningkai clips and i could not explain to you why

[chanstopher]

[writhng]

babydoll

[honehonn3honey]

A random thought but Bakugou doesn’t care if you shave or not, I can see him passing his hand over and over again through your hairy legs while watching a movie or loving the texture while eating you out

[midnight-stormm]

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

[real-odark]

what if theoretically i drew the saw gays *gays *gays *guys whoops

[ID: Pencil doodles of Adam and Lawrence from Saw, both of them tired and injured. Adam is sweating as Lawrence says, “I want you.” Smaller text above Adam reads, “OMFG. Oh my god.” End ID.]

[transmascfucktoy]

call me a dog the way im crazy about. balls

[8ripecunts]

holden 100% turns up at bills home when nancy and brian are at her moms for the weekend under the guise of ‘im just handing u some files’. holden knows what he wants but bill is all about protecting the peace and boundaries (its his family home afterall!) hijinks ensues (they fuck, cos holden always gets what he wants) and he eats up how he gets to have bill in his marital bed

[faunandfloraas]

[starshideyourfics]

Finally getting around to my Steddie Big Bang fic announcement for a late bit of WIP Wednesday. So please enjoy my super niche and self-indulgent, dark fairy tale, omegaverse Tam Lin AU: among the leaves sae green

“Come, lad. It’s better if you walk yourself, but I’ll drag you if I must.”

Steve nods, stepping down as he takes the offered hand in both of his--wrists still bound and requiring the extra stability. He keeps his mouth shut, not wanting to give up any more of himself now, at the end. Carver hops down to the ground as well, following behind as Brenner leads them both down the path. The tangle of branches overhead blocks out so much light, only for them to pass into bright sun, the sky revealed by a small clearing. 

At one end an ancient yew—a death tree, like the one that stands on the edge of the village graveyard, but so much larger—looms ominously, its gnarled branches spreading wide, deadly poison in every needle-like leaf, the trunk thick and asymmetrical. Spaced around the grove are four more imposing trees: Elder, Rowan, Ash, and Oak, all much larger than any other of their kind that Steve has ever seen. Even just one of any of the five trees would denote this as a sacred space, but all of them together… It is like the green scent of the forest is intensified here, pulsing with ancient power. 

Brenner walks Steve to the yew, Carver still keeping close, ready to catch him if he tries to run. Resigned, Steve has no intention of running. His fate has been sealed a dozen times over. Passing a second rope around a low branch, Brenner weaves the ends around the bonds at Steve’s wrists, creating an intricate knot that pulls tighter at the slightest tug. Palm pressed to Steve’s forehead, smearing the oil that sits over his brow, Brenner speaks slowly and clearly: “We leave this gift in humble supplication. May it please you and grant us peace and prosperity.”

Face still serene, he removes his hand and steps back from Steve with a nod. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and wipes the anointing oil from his hand, casting the delicate fabric aside—he has ruined it, the oil will never wash all the way out. Then he turns, making his way back towards the path. “Come along, Phinneas. I told you, not a mark on him,” he calls without looking back.

At that reminder, Steve looks to Carver, sees the sneer on the man’s face, and is glad to watch him leave, even if he is surprised that they did not slit his throat. Mayhaps the devil and his beasts like their offerings alive. There are plenty of creatures that will only eat live prey—

Steve shakes his head, knowing that if he keeps thinking about that he will drive himself into a panic, and he wants more from his last minutes… hours? He’s sure the aldermen would not allow themselves to come too close to the demons that they have left him for, so perhaps nothing will come for him until nightfall. The sun is sinking towards the horizon, but he still has an hour, maybe more before the pinks and golds of the setting sun give way to dusk. He will calm his body and mind. Take time to think.

Maybe if he pushes himself, he will be able to climb into the tree, pull his body up onto the branch to which he is bound. If he is not left on the ground, maybe he has a chance to survive the night.

But how his arms ache! Holding them up, even if he can rest against the tension of the rope, has his muscles straining with the effort. And he can feel the blood leaving his fingers, the tingle that will soon give way to numbness. He could start trying now, but he knows he will not have the dexterity to grip the branch for long enough to get into the tree.

Steve cannot help it. He begins to pace, only able to take a couple steps in any direction before he must turn, quickly settling into walking a circle. And he mutters to himself, going over the few possibilities he has for his survival. Frustrated tears fill his eyes as the sun sinks lower and lower, dipping below the treetops and out of his sight. His frustration gives way to fear as the forest grows dark, stars winking on as the sky turns from dusky violet to deep navy blue. The sounds of creatures skittering through the underbrush, of bats flying, owls calling softly from the edge of the clearing, keep drawing his attention. Any sound could signal the coming of the devil in the wood.

But no devil comes. Every sound he turns to investigate turns up nothing. Steve has no idea just how late it is, but it feels very late. He sags against his bonds, wanting so desperately to lie down in the soft grass, but still so afraid, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Well, well, well…” a rich, velvet voice says from behind him, no other sound to signal anyone’s arrival. Steve startles, back going stock-straight before he slowly turns.

He comes face to face with a tall, elfin man, long dark curls hanging down past his shoulders, a mischievous grin on his full lips. The grin parts when he sees Steve’s face, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. They must be terrified back in Hawkins.”

That is enough for Steve to recognize the voice. He only heard it the one time, but it is seared into his brain, the tone and timbre settling along the man’s features, fuller now, lips and cheeks redder, thin frame now lithe and graceful as he advances, instead of gaunt and gangly. It’s Edmund Munson, the last tithe, looking more alive now than he did four years ago.

[theonpilled]

this is how you must imagine me in all of my posts. it's mandatory

[52stations]

nobody ever discusses how hard it is to walk up a hill. i just did it and it was very difficult

[asterroth]

Me @ yolo swag rave

[secret-vampkissers-soiree]

A moodboard for Fairyland by @warwrnlipstick! I really loved the way she described the energy flowing through Frank's body in his relationship with dance. Also I'd love for Gerard's Demolition Lovers ballet to be real; I'd buy tickets to that in a heartbeat!

Image sources: x x x / x x x / x x x

[clippy]

Hey I am Genuinely having one of the most miserable days in recent memory right now... I know it's a little early in the day for a lot of ppl but if anyone happens to be online I would love if ppl sent me asks or drawing ideas about clockboy and co....

[divorcedmage]

demo bangs are back baby