You Do Not Owe Your Partner(s) Sex. I Mostly See This Passed Around In The Asexual Community, And It

Worst (amazing omg) financial decisions were made today

(I don’t have a vinyl player…. :/)

That’s a whole ass Renaissance painting

one of my sexual fantasies is to have someone notice my absence and wonder about me

You wanna join him? Yknow what, I’ll even set it up so it’s live AND in person.

…

It is very awkward to run into you here.

Hello.

😐

…

Don’t tell on me.

-Vent Shadow

Hello good people of the internet I’m here to offer some shitty, shitty arts

Blank version under cut!!!

do y’all have any idea how huge it is that they’re playing Madison Square Garden? one of, if not the, most famous American venue/arena in the world, which has held decades and decades worth of iconic performances by the world’s most massive artists. it’s rich with entertainment history and almost always a bucket-list venue for so many musicians.

this is such a huge accomplishment 🥹

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you're welcome

would u let me grow on u like moss or no

Pairing: Poly 141 x Reaper! Forensics Pathologist! Female reader

masterlist — part two

Note: Only the reader's hair colour is defined. Everything else is up to you. Also the third image is what I image you wearing in this fic.

“Confused is all. As to why you of all people are at my doorstep. Don’t you pups know what death looks like? Or do you prefer to experience it yourself?” you raised an eyebrow at their interference. Your long black onyx nails tapping the back of your clipboard.

A reaper right in front of their face. Disguised as a Forensics Pathologist, a mortician, a keeper of the dead.

John Price, the stern-faced leader of Task Force 141, took a step back, eyeing the woman with a mix of wariness and curiosity. “We've seen plenty of it,” he replied, his British accent thick and commanding. “But we're not here for a lecture on mortality, Doc.”

“Pity. You look like you need one. Several. Of. Them. Perhaps then you will promptly understand how important my work is.”

Your hair looked like molten lava, the layers of charcoal, auburn, and copper framing your sharp face, which was devoid of any make-up except for the crimson lipstick that stood out against the starkness of your teeth.

“Do you think you scare me scotsman? I know more about life than you lived in a year.”

Your eyes bore into Soap, holding his gaze as if challenging him to dare.

“Shoot me foolish man, go on, do it, see what kind of 'damage' you won't be able to do.”

Because no one can kill death. And they will all come to her eventually.

Death is the end of everything.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

Having ur main emotional response be crying is so embarrassing like ill be trying to explain why im mad or ill try having a serious convo abt smthn that upsets me and ill start crying like a baby and i have to like turn around and go “i am not crying 4 pity or to emotionally manipulate u im crying cuz im a little bitch, give me a sec”