white kids get to have quirky racist phases black kids dont get to be kids
black kids get their lives stolen from them if they defend themselves from white kids "going through a phase"
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Sade Olutola

Origami Around

Kaledo Art

if i look back, i am lost
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day

JVL
occasionally subtle
trying on a metaphor
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Three Goblin Art
will byers stan first human second
Xuebing Du

Andulka
Keni
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Show & Tell
art blog(derogatory)
seen from Peru
seen from United States

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from South Korea
seen from United States

seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
@bojackbaby
white kids get to have quirky racist phases black kids dont get to be kids
black kids get their lives stolen from them if they defend themselves from white kids "going through a phase"
humiliating to be attracted to a conventionally attractive person. I thought I was a more sensitive and refined pervert than this
do you ever feel yourself fail a charisma check in real time
Putting the term "Catholic guilt" on a high shelf where fandom can't reach it until everyone learns how to identify characters who are very very clearly coded as Protestant.
robby had two fingers inside you before he even got his coat off. first came you, then everything else.
he never built up to anything, straight to your cunt it is. you’d learned to stop being surprised. hadn’t quite learned to stop making that noise, the one that climbed out of you embarrassingly fast and made jack pause in the doorway, having just finished his shift. but his hand is already on his zipper.
“she been like that long?” jack asked. assessing. like you’re a patient.
“twenty minutes.” robby curled his fingers and you grabbed the counter. “told her to wait for you but she kept —” another curl, deeper, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit, “—you know how she gets.”
you were dripping down his wrist. you knew because he told you, mouth at your ear.
jack crossed the room. got one hand under your jaw, tilted your face up, so you can properly look at him. robby didn’t stop moving, not even in the slightest. because who cares if you can keep your eyes open, right?
“robby,” you managed.
“yeah.”
“i can’t—”
“you can.” he spread his fingers inside you just to prove to you that you in fact, can. whatever you were going to say dissolved into something that wasn’t a word at all. jack’s thumb dragged over your bottom lip, watching your mouth fall open.
“ask him,” robby said.
jack’s eyes dropped to yours. waiting.
“please, jackie.” your hands scrambled for purchase. pathetic. you didn’t care.
jack undid his belt. “bend her over.”
robby smiled against your neck. “thought you’d never ask, brother.”
i hate AI i hate sam altman i hate google (or the death of google as we used to know it) i hate personalized ads i hate social media i hate living in a surveillance state and i fucking HAAAAATE kalshi and the concept of placing bets on sports (among war and death!) and we all need to get really into reading paper books RIGHT NOW please god
jack abbot x younger!reader
shinsou commanding that you cum when using his quirk on you because you’ve never had an orgasm with a partner before and you want to, desperately, but your brain usually hangs you up and keeps you from it — but now, you’re floating and foggy and shinsou’s strong hands are cupping your face, a gentle pride in his eyes as you buckle and bow in his arms, and he tells you in that low, soft voice of his: “there you go, my perfect girl. let yourself feel it all.”
you know how sometimes babies associate inanimate objects with their parents? i think every time tobio’s baby sees a volleyball he points at it and goes “that’s papa” with stars in his eyes, and most people are like ??? but tobio (equally starry-eyed) is just like “he’s a genius”
pt 1
hi! you gave me your number at the grocery store yesterday. I was wondering if you could send me the information about the tattoo shop please? thanks so much! :)
you read the text and reread it and reread it once more before pressing send. goddamnit, you should’ve at least asked for the man’s name, you think to yourself as you read your message for the nth time in twenty seconds. you go to edit the text, or maybe send another, fuck, is it rude to double text a stranger? even if said stranger put his number in your phone despite not really asking for it? you guess you didn’t mind much, especially if he was going to connect you with a good tattoo artist and all, but—
sukuna.
the text comes in during your spiraling thoughts. you read it once, twice. blink a few times. that…does not answer a single thing you had asked. is that supposed to be his name? should you ask him that for confirmation? you pause for a bit, waiting for another text to come through that doesn’t, before making your own move.
hello sukuna! can you connect me with your tattoo artist please? :)
he’s an exclusive prick and doesn’t have any availability for the next two years.
you pause. blink. suck in a deep breath and wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do with this dead end when another text comes through.
but he’ll squeeze you in when I take you so send your address so I can pick you up.
oh what the fuck. this is a bad idea. right? sending what’s virtually a stranger your address? but he seemed…normal enough in the grocery store. didn’t try to outright attack you or crush your head between his tiger paws, as you’d feared before. you want to say no, you should say no, but—
but he’s showing up an hour later, dressed in another tank top, white this time, and low slung gray sweatpants that has a black oil stain on the hip of it. you’re sure he’s part tiger somehow, somewhere, deep in his lineage, with the way he stalks toward you when you open the door and step out. he’s been leaning against his car, something old, that sounds like it’s breathing with every passing second, and the man—sukuna—grins when he sees you. his legs are long, and you can make out the muscled thigh from beneath the fabric of his pants, and—oh fuck, you shouldn’t have looked down there.
you’re not a pervert. really, you’re not! especially to men that aren’t on the pages of your books. but it’s hard not to notice the thick bob between his legs when he steps up to you, and gently but sternly guides your glued form from the steps to the passenger side of his car. he opens the door for you, and you think it’s gentlemanly, until you realize that the thing is damn near bolted shut and you couldn’t have opened it yourself if you tried. still, you thank him, to which he leers at.
“don’t be thankin’ me just yet,” he tells you, and you think it might be a threat, or maybe a conversation starter, but you’re not too sure so you stay quiet in the end. “gotta swing past my shop first to pick up some cash.”
you should tell him no, should tell him you can pay for your own tattoo, and actually, you can wait two years for a tattoo, and that you really shouldn’t go to a second and third location with him. but sukuna kinda smiles at you—you’re still not sure if it’s a smile or him bearing his teeth in threat but you smile back, anyway—and let him drive you away from your home. you could be getting murdered, but you don’t wanna make any assumptions and offend him, so you sit quietly and hope for the best.
a tattoo by the end of this journey though, would be really great, and worth getting into the car with a possible former convict. you take your chances.
thinking about how good ushijima is at moving your hips for you after you get too tired to grind against his bulge yourself. he’ll make you come two times just like that
Rabbot x reader (angsty argument blurb edition)
you hate fighting with Robby. Because once you do, it gets out of control fast and neither of you thinks fast enough to swallow back hurtful things and take a moment to breathe
when Jack is there, it sometimes tones down to some bickering and eye rolls and everything is forgotten in half an hour. When he's not though...
You've retreated into the guest room no one ever uses, still dressed in Robby's stupid shirt and crying stupid tears because of stupid Robby. The fight was stupid too, you can't even remember what started it.
But before you knew it, his voice got louder and so did yours and he called you pushy and you said he didn't even want to get better
Both of you had slammed the door behind yourself. Jack is at work. Hours pass where you both don't come out to reconcile.
At some point, you fell asleep and wake up to the soft feeling of knuckles brushing the tears away, nearly making you flinch stubbornly because for just a second, you think it's Robby
"What happened, sweetheart?" Jack looks at you, without judgement but with the frown on his face only you and Robby are able to bring out. The fight is written all over the quiet apartment. He did not even have to talk to Robby first to know.
"I don't want to talk about it." Your voice is still wobbly and you want to squirm away, but Jack is already there, not letting you.
"You don't have to tell me anything, baby. Tell him."
"No."
He leaves the guest room for now with a deep sigh. It's seven in the morning and here he is, trying to mend the broken pieces you two have left. Robby and you should've been pressed together underneath the covers, your cheeks rosy from Robby's body heat while he held you close, not like this. Not apart.
Jack can tell Robby has been crying.
The two of them stare at each other for a moment, silently communicating. Jack knows Robby feels fucking awful before he even opens his mouth.
"She's right there, man. Just talk to her. Make it right. She's been crying. Just- you gotta love her. You've gotta. Otherwise this won't work."
"I do. Fuck, I- of course I love her. It's just-"
"Is it so hard to believe she loves you too? That she cares?"
Jack leaves him with that question. While he's making three cups of tea, exhaustion clinging to his shoulders, Robby is silently crossing through the living room past him and disappears into the guest room.
Jack doesn't need to eavesdrop. He's close enough to hear deep, mumbled words and a few shaky sniffles before the bed squeaks and Robby and you hug it out, his large hand stroking your hair while you bury your face in his chest and cry
And when he sees Robby coming out with you in his arms, kissing your temple like you're the most precious thing in the world, he knows it'll be enough for today.
♡ rabbot sm!au ♡
michael robinavitch can you please be normal for five fucking minutes (f!reader)
To be fair, offering your attending your spare room while his home gets fumigated wasn't a bad idea. You were being a good person and simultaneously gaining brownie points. It's not like you could have expected, well, this.
"Dr. Robby," you caution, still frozen into the doorway of your bedroom. "Are those my panties?"
Because, yes, gripped in your boss's long fingers is a pair of white cotton panties– the very same ones you stripped off and threw in your hamper before you showered. They're a few inches from his face, and you shake your head to clean your mind of the thought of what he might have been doing with them– and the fact that you find yourself less repulsed by that thought than you'd like to admit.
"Oh," Robby says with the surprised tone of an innocent man. "I'm so sorry. I'll put them back. Here."
And, because maybe you're not the best at decision making and also the fact that there's a growing need between your legs, you stop Robby as he slowly returns the fabric to its spot in the hamper. He freezes as your hand, hot to the touch from the scalding liquid you had been scrubbing yourself with, wraps around his wrist.
"Wait," you say. "Keep it."
Robby gulps, "K–Keep it?"
"Yeah," you shrug, guiding his hand to his front pocket. With the bunched fabric in his pocket, you pat the material twice and pretend not to notice the growing bulge beside your hand. "I've got more where that came from."
if you follow this page and read my fics you are now a knicks fan. you better cheer for them. you better bleed orange and blue. by being on this blog i pronounce you an honorary new yorker. now start spreading the news and go knicks.