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What's your guys favorite dessert item?

M-Murdoc! You’re embarrasin’!

Whaaaat? I’m just answerin’ truthfully. Heh.

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So true

On the mind

In both fics and published erotica (though the line of “legitimacy” separating these two things becomes thinner and blurrier all the time), there is just not enough time or attention spent on boobs.  The standard is 1-3 lines about how they’re mildly touched or played with, but then immediately we move on and don’t hear about them again.  

Obviously not the same for everyone, but titties feel real good when they’re played with.  It doesn’t even necessarily need to lead to sex or anything, just having them touched can make the time spent be a lot more fun.  It’d be nice if they were shown more appreciation rather than just being a tiny step on the way to boning.

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Support this lovely gal, her porn it's gonna cure your depression. Guaranteed 👍👍👍👍👍

Hold Down I missed the sparring series so I’m bringing them back!  Also, I’m launching my Patreon for the first time ever, so I’m very excited about it!  Find the 18+ NSFW version right here.  Please feel free to check the tiers, I’ll make a post about the info this week anyway. ♥ Thanks @stealmyheart4 for all the references and support!  | Ko-fi | Patreon | 

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@metmarfilth for you, ma dudette

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Damn. I love this so much

here have some more nonsense.

this is after she gets back from the underworld. ;P

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The Bet

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I was in my lovely home. Living my best life, maybe watching some porn MacDoesIt, idk. And suddenly, like a lighting in the middle of the darkest nigh I realice that you bitches don’t have the pleasure of knowing Arthur. So I though “MMM. I could write some good’ol porn for the guy and calm my thirstiness” And here I am.

This is for @sarybomb​. Arthur and Nina are her OC’s. You should totally go and check out her stuff. She doesn’t make fanart. She delight the internet with her original characters and for that I’m thankfull and very excited to see whats next.

Go to check her stuff!! You wouldn’t be dissapointed

They were too drunk. Drunk and emboldened by the idea of the challenge. So much that they didn’t care leaving the door unlock, or that the volume of their voices while they argue bother other guests at the hotel. They also didn’t care if their moans were heard

- Mupher fufer- The words emerged drowned. His fingers taste vaguely like her. Arthur’s voice was lost among Nina’s many moans and gasps, but it didn’t take her much  to understand what he was saying.

- I’m not touching you, Little Nina

“Mother Fucker” She tried to mutter but the end of the word was deformed into a sharp moan. Arthut’s hand doesn’t show any mercy. With a nimble twist of his wrist the textured dildo reached that magic spot inside her. The sharp sting of pleasure was so intense that her clitoris swelled and throbbed impatiently. Seeking for her release, she wrigled against Arthur’s legs looking for some friction. Just  a little pressure  against the muscle of his calf to make her groan gutturally, almost throwing her over the edge. Arthur’s chuckle brought her back to earth and she remembered with whom she was doing this with. She cursed under her  breath and again the word was distorted by another contortion of his wrist. This son of a bitch is gonna kill me. She thought with bitterness and excitement.

- I thought you didn’t like it when I touched you, but yet here you are - he bent over her until the scruff of his chin tickled the Shell of the ear - Completely wet, moaning and begging me to cum.

Hatred and pleasure bubbled in her belly like a pressure cooker ready to blow. She shifted in anger, removing Arthur’s fingers from her mouth and spitting out the words as if they were poison.

- I am not- but couldn’t finish the sentence. His sardonic laughter echoed in her ears, mixing with the lascivious sounds of the dildo penetrating her fast and strong. Her insults turned into screams and Arthur’s long, strong fingers returned to her mouth to try to silence them even a little.

The vibration in his fingers went straight to his hard cock. Until now he had managed to distract himself from the pain of his erection by watching Nina fight her stubbornness and try to restrain herself but fail miserably. Every so often, he felt the light caress of the skin of her torso against his member and had to bite down a growl. Every little touch was a painful reminder of the pitiful state of his testicles.

They had been fighting all night, and there were few things that caused him an erection faster then seeing Nina calling him a son of a bitch outraged while blushing. The image of her on the floor, the perfect round ass raised in the air, anxiously waiting for his cock clouded his vision. If they weren’t so stubborn, he would forget the stupid bet, he would take the toy out of his lover and fuck her until their legs became jelly. But seeing her like that, fighting not to reach her orgasm and admit that he was right was almost as delicious. Almost almost. Nina shuddered violently. Her generous lips closed lasciviously against his fingers. Arthur smiled. He knew she was close and wouldn’t make her wait another minute.

- Are you close, baby?- She didn’t answer and the sound of his malevolent laugh made her shiver in anger.

Ok, maybe you  just a little more.

She try to stay still. Nina took a deep breath but the constant stimulation behind her made it quite difficult. She only needed a couple of more thrusts, that his legs would touch her in the right place only once, maintaining that sweet and damned rhythm. She was so close that  began to feel electric waves at the birth of her legs … But Arthur had to be a son of a bitch. The room fell into a short silence. The sudden absence of all the wet thrusting sounds. And then, Nina’s sharp and indignant gasp. He laugh loudly.

- Is something wrong? - asked her mockingly. Nina let out a roar from the bottom of her chest and bit into Arthur’s fingers that pulled them out of her mouth quickly without losing the smile- Ouch! Bad girl No bitting-

- Fuck you! – fire radiated in her eyes. Arthu mockingly  made like he was shuddering and smiled smugly as he pushed the dildo back inside her to the base inside.

Her eyes snap open, mouth wide open in a frozen ecstasy. Her loud  gasp  could be heard until the end of the corridor

- Believe me, baby. I will. And you will beg for it.

Nina wanted to say something, answer him, insult him, yelled at him. But she was so immersed in the sensations that melted her spine that she could not. Arthur leaned over her once more, hissing as the sensitive swollen head of his cock grazed her skin.

- Come on, baby. Don’t be so stubborn. Wanna come, right? I’ll get you there. Just say it.

Nina hid her face in his thigh and had to resist the urge to bite him. Never. Never. Not in a million years she would beg to the bastard for her orgasm.

A twist of his wrist, a small change in the rhythm

Maybe, yes … No! Never. She preferred to die rather than admit defeat.

The incipient beard tickled the shell of her ear. His free hand closed around her neck, making a little pressure, just enough so that the little lack of oxygen increased her senses.

…

Shit.

- I … want to come-she mutter in an almost inaudibly whisper against the skin of Arthur’s leg. Even from there she could feel the damn triumphant smile growing on his face.

- Sorry I didn’t ear you. Say it again, pretty please? - son of a bitch - a twist of his wrist and Nina was screaming. Feeling her orgasm escaping like sand between her fingers. So close yet so far.

I can live without coming, right? …

- Make me come-

Music for his ears. As he accelerated the pace, frantically penetrating her with the dildo, lifting his calf lightly to rub her clit, Nina finally reached her orgasm releasing a piercing scream of pure unadulterated joy.

- Arthur! -

Oh shit! He thought alarmed. His name said that way almost made him come. Nina convulsed on his legs like electric wire for a few seconds until, as abruptly as she began, she relaxed. She fell languid on his legs. He remove the toy and lean over her to envelop her in a tight hug as best I can. Stroking her hair, kissing her head, and giving her loving pats on the ass.

- You are amazing, Nina.

- Shut … up … asshole.

Arthur laughed happily and Nina had to hid her flushed face. She was grateful that he couldn’t feel how much her heart was racing with the sweet compliment or how calm and relaxed she felt to be back in his arms.

Away in the hall, Louis looked at the door of Nina’s room with a mixture of surprise and distrust. The raw screams that came out of that room told a very different story to the 3 hours of rant in which Nina described to him in great detail all “what, whys, how”of  why Arthur was the biggest asshole in the universe. From love to hatred there is only one orgasm, Louis thought mischievously as he entered his room adjusting the uncomfortable erection he got after hearing Nina’s moans. He wondered as he licked his lips, how it would be to see that in person. Or better yet, see the beautiful golden-eyed lion ending in a scream.

- A guy can only dream

I posted it again because I can(?

#my stuff #sarybomb oc's #nsfw

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GUESS WHO HAS THE MOST AWESOME BETA READER IN THE ENTIRE MULTIVERSE???

Thank you so much @mercurytail!!!! Dudette, I really appreciate it and I’m SO FUCKING SORRY that I took me this long to sit my fucking ass on the computer and read it carefully.  You are the best. Love ya <3

The prologue

The prologue is heeeeeeeeeere.

Thanks to Metsy for making the lovely “prologue” title.

I hope you like this. Please!!! I beg you people, if you think something doesn’t make sense, some parts read weird or just hate the way I write, say it. I want to hear your opinions. My mission is making the best fanfic possible for Metsy’s vision.

Hit me!!!

Warning: I like totally overkill the word “smallpox” in this bitch

That it, I hope you like it.

Epilogue

An interesting thing about the town of Jones is that 40 years ago it was only a farm carried for by the Jones family. They lived a quiet life as farmers and opened the doors of their home to any traveler that needed it. However, that kindness that was later their downfall. The mother, a woman of spanish descent dreamed of traveling to Europe. She met her husband; Percival Jones, a man who’d travelled to escape the old world plagued by dark memories of illness, corruption and persecution on the farm. He was her dream come true. Percival abandoned his faith once he arrive to America after living in the chaos and grime of London and his only mission in life was to spend his remaining days of peace with his wife and children. In the month of January 1655, incessant storms lashed the farm leaving them isolated and without any food for weeks. The last guest they’d had left the farm with a persistent fever, nausea and vomiting.

The father, mother, and 5 of the 6 children all dead of smallpox. Jededíah, the youngest and only 14 years of age was the only survivor. His mother had been the first one to die. The children follow her one after the other. On one stormy night, the father, sick and knowing that his time was nearing, held the corpse of his firstborn in his arms and wept in silence until the illness claimed him. The young Jededíah - whose only company in those days of incessant rain had been the corpse of his father clutching the body of his brother leaned against the bed - weak and pained, threw himself to the ground, sure he would not get up again. He held within his scrawny arms covered in raised lesions, his father’s old bible and even though he could barely read, for days he read it over and over. Alone and waiting for death, Jededíah prayed to God with whom he had never spoken to in his life to save him. Even now, on the nights that the pastor couldn’t fall asleep, he remembered that day. It had been a little over a week since his father’s death, the bible was pressed against his skeletal chest, as he recited a chapter of psalms by memory when the rain stopped. The boy smiled with chapped lips with only one thought in his mind. Cheered by the idea of dying outside, he exited the house. He would die out in the mud while he looked to God.

He smelled the fresh rainy air instead of the stench of death as he looked at the sky. The light filtered through the clouds hurting his eyes but Jededíah did not care. He threw himself into the icy, wet mud and looked at up at his creator and waited, but death never came for him. The tale of the child spread like wildfire among the travelers who passed through the Jones farm. They were captivated by the story of the child who survived thanks to his faith and by the grace of God At 18 years old Jededíah had gathered a modest entourage of travelers and merchants, who came without fail, every Sunday to his farm to work in the field with him. They rebuilt the house, built a chapel and listened to the sermons of the young man. At the age of 20, the first families moved next to the farm and began to build their houses. People came with their loaded wagons to live in the modest town founded by the child who was saved by faith. 20 years after the death of his entire family with more than 150 people in the village, the pastor had secured a place in the hearts of his congregation as patriarch, teacher, pastor and provider. He made sure that every man, woman, and child could read and have a copy of the Bible in their homes. The inhabitants of Jones attributed to him (in spite of his austere and sober attitude) to possess a heart of gold. The eyes of everyone in the village turned to him in confusion when he decided to take a wife who had previously been married and had given a child to another man. Sussan was a lovely woman who had lost her entire family to the same terrible disease he knew so intimately. The very disease that had killed his family in what he considered a divine punishment for their heretic ways, had stripped the beautiful Sussan of everything she had as well. Alone and driven half mad from the pain of loss, she merely nodded silently and followed when Jededíah came for her The men and women of the congregation discouraged the cleric from taking a wife who was not pure in the eyes of god, but he stood firm, claiming that they all were his sheep and that he would do everything to protect and give a home to every member of his flock. Not long after, during the cleansing of the forests of the Red Savages, a travelling couple settled in the village, seeking shelter from the harsh winter. The man was an English merchant and his wife was an Indian woman and in her arms rested their half-breed son. In the short time they stayed in the village, they slept in the stables due to the fact that none of the inns would give asylum to an Indian and her young. No long after their arrival the parents died of the same disease. The good people of Jones had expected the tragedy, having assumed it was God’s punishment for sullying the sacred link with the cross-blood. However, the child that barely could say a word or two proved to be more resilient than his progenitors and managed to overcome the illness. Everyone’s eyes focused on Pastor Jones; a gentle man who gave shelter to the poor, the helpless, and the sick. A man who could not conceive a child with his wife, no matter how hard they tried or prayed. He was caught under the judgment of his parishioners and in the end had no other choice but to take the half-blood child as his own. The people of Jones who had raised their children with the story of how their pastor had survived the terror of smallpox with only the strength of his faith, saw in the little mestizo a signal from their lord and praised fell upon him. Behind closed doors, the pastor could not have been more miserable. He hated the child’s presence but knew that going against his lord’s wishes brought illness and death. It was not unusual to hear him murmur that the child was a penance for his pride. The boy’s name was Jesse. He was small for his age. In the first weeks living with the pastor and his wife, Jesse was scared and distrustful. He religiously escaped every night to the stable where his parents died, only to be dragged back in the morning. Despite his skeletal appearance, the shepherd possessed great strength and knew with terrifying precision where to strike to inflict maximum pain without leaving any mark. Nonetheless Jesse never complained, he never thought he would get anything more than a beating if he did. Jesse was a smart boy, even at a young age he knew he had to keep some things to himself. He knew his parents were dead but every time he snuck up to the stables, his mother had still been there watching over him in silent adoration. She opened her mouth but no words could be heard, she tried to touch him but he could only feel cold and emptiness. She stay as long as she could until her essence began to scatter, leaving only a shadow that wandered aimlessly through the town, without rest nor purpose. Once his adoptive family was form by the grace of God, the pastor determined that both should leave behind their past lives and surrender completely to him, and by extension to God. He baptized them both in the river and changed their names. The entire town celebrated that both of them left behind their lives of darkness to be bathed in the light of their new patriarch. The pastor demanded penance, moderation, and undisputed devotion to the creator. Susan became known as Mary Jones and the little mestizo was forced to abandon the name that his heretic mother had given him and became known as Joseph. He had a hard time getting used to the name and had to endure many penances. Suffering many days without food, nights left out in the cold as a child until he understood that it was better to do as he was told. He ended up accepting it and responding to the name after a while. Jesse grew up. He was a hardworking child, who sought desperately to see pride within his father’s eyes, but also feared him more than the devil himself.

The young man’s life was spent in an almost spartan routine. He would get up before dawn to pray with his father, take his penance, clean the chapel, count the sacks of corn and help in the fields. Despite his misfortune, Jesse considered himself lucky. He had a roof over his head, food on the table and a mission in life; to help the townspeople that had opened their arms for him. When Jesse wasn’t helping in the chapel, praying, or helping the ill, he would go to the corn fields and visit his only friend. Gabriel Reyes had arrived in town with nothing to offer and no hope of staying. However, one day without really knowing how, in a drunken delirium he got a job. He was tasked with taking care of the corn fields. Despite multiple attempts by the pastor and the townspeople who tried to convince him, Gabriel never agreed to change his name, for which the community never accepted him for. He lived on the edge of the village in a small ramshackled hut. His only job was to take care of the cornfields and keep his distance of the good working people of the town. He could not have been happier to stand aside. There are those who say that the generous harvests were a gift from God for their devotion, but the pastor knew deep down in his gut that it was all Gabriel’s work. He didn’t know how and didn’t care. Despite having been raised on a farm, taking care of the land was never something he exceeded at. So, they both maintained a healthy relationship in which they never saw or spoke to each other, except through Joseph. Gabriel was a tall, broad man with sun-darkened skin punctuated by many angry pinkish scars. When Jesse was a young boy, he asked Gabriel if his father also gave him penances. Gabriel let out a loud laugh from the depths of his chest and ruffled Jesse’s hair. He responded with the first curse word he had ever heard, mocking his own father and Jesse’s. The young boy thought the devil was coming to get him for earring the curse but nothing happened. The fearless determination in that curse horrified him as much as it lured him. He decided then and there that he liked Gabriel very much. That was life in Jones. Humdrum, devout, and austere. Jesse was certain that he would live his entire life in Jones. He only hoped he would be useful to God, to his father and to help as many souls as he could in the time that he had. Little did the 20-year-old know that destiny had other plans for him. On August 20, 1690 a foreigner arrived to the bay of Massachusetts during the harvest festival. According to a girl who played that day on the seashore, the man was as pale as a ghost and carried marks on his skin that shined like they had been kissed by the sun.

#mercurytail #metmarfil

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Is any "Gangsta" fans out there??? Who's ready for some noisy smut???

My thirstiness crave some fictional dick

Ahreeeee. Porque tan cruda, la zorra?

#gangsta #gangsta manga #the smut is coming

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Bitches!!! What's wrong with all of ya'???

I miss Arthur. I'm tired of having this many extra water in my body (?

Ow… I’ll try to draw him more but people don’t like him I’m sad :(

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@metmarfil

When Hanzo finally shows u his third dragon

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Eyes.

Here it comes the first chapter. Hope you guys like it. Thanks Metsy for letting me be a part of this. I’m about to do some Gangsta smutty because that series needs some love.  Someone would be interest in helping me as a beta reader?  Anyhoo, i hope you like it guys. Especially you, @metmarfil. I love you dudette.

He arrives like a silent shadow in the last days of summer, during the harvest festival. By then, almost 60 families were settled in the town of Jones. The small town that was settled a few miles from the road to Springfield was frequently visited by merchants arriving on the continent.

The celebrations had gone very well. The crops were abundant and generous even weeks before the harvesting. The shepherd attributed this as a reward from his lord to the faith and righteousness of his flock.

Faithful to the teachings of the pastor, the celebrations tried to be as austere and sober as possible. The children ran and played with dolls made of corn, the women cooked a generous feast to receive the men who worked in the field. The spirits was joyful and the future looked promising. The townsfolk looked at the harsh winter that was coming with bright eyes full of hope.

Summer fade away with the sun on the horizon and slowly gave way to autumn, and with its arrival more rumors of the weird-eyed stranger began to bloom as the leaves fell on the trees.

Some claimed to have seen him in the forest collecting roots and plants. One of the village elders said he had seen him hunting rabbits with a very strange looking bow and arrows. The baker's wife said she heard howls of wolves since the very moment the man moved to the outskirts of the town. The carpenter's daughter commented in whispers with her friends that the foreigner was a man who, in spite having a face that might remind the looks of the dirty savages, still was appealing to the eye and had seen him dressed in noble clothes.

The girl who saw him that day on the beach told her mother that the man had long hair black and thick like the night, and had golden marks on his face that shone like gold. Her mother told her that it was probably some English merchant and that she had to stay away from strangers, but the girl quickly told her mother that the man she had seen was not like any English she knew.

By mid-September, most of the people in Jones had seen (some even interacted) with the weird-eyed stranger.

Pastor Jones at first was mostly indifferent to the newcomer, assuming that before he knew it he would have followed his path, but to his dismay, by the end of September he had heard rumors that the foreigner was sitting in an abandoned hut deep in the forest.

The natives avoid the forest as much as possible and go only to the boundaries for firewood. After the bloody fights against the savages to recover the lands that the ignorants claimed as theirs, it was believed that the forests was cursed and all kinds of beings of the underworld used it as their playground.

During the Sunday sermon, the pastor reminded his flock of the importance of keeping their community pure. He reminded them of how sneaky and malicious the devil was, he reminded them that the he takes many forms to deceive the good and Christian to lure them into sin as he did with Adam and Eve and, as a punishment, God cast them out of paradise.

Something Jesse had noticed about all the rumors was how much the foreigner's eyes seemed to be mention. Not so much because of the actual appearance of his eyes, it was something about the intensity of his gaze. Nobody had seen him smile and they usually described him as a person with a severe and judgmental gaze.

Jesse was very aware of the power of the eyes. The eyes are the windows of the soul,  was what his mother used to say. Through the eyes we see people for what they really are.

One Sunday afternoon, Jesse dismissed the parishioners from the service with his father at the door of the chapel with a warm smile. Jesse's gaze was full of love and compassion. It was a look that warmed the heart,  calm the afflicted and gave hope to the sick.

A girl who had some affection for the pastor's son, said that in Jesse's eyes was the warm love of God.

That autumn afternoon the people were energetic, they chatted and laughed at the end of the service in an optimistic tone despite the closeness of winter.

-          I saw him this morning with my own eyes, father! He was hunting rabbits in the forest with a bow and arrow big as my horse. - The father of the fisherman was an old and distrustful man who watched with suspicion even his own grandchildren. He murmured his gossip pulling the cassock of Pastor Jones repeatedly.

-          You old goat-the baker cut him dry-no one can have such a big bow. You are seeing things, old man-

-          I never lie! The foreigner used a strange bow and he was also followed by a wolf !!

-          See? you're crazy.

He tried to disguise his interest as best he could know how much his father disapproved the presence of the stranger, but he can barely contain his curiosity. The rumors were so exaggerated that he needed to see it with his own eyes.

-              There he is! Buying fish from Mrs. Proctor- the young daughter of the baker whisper with excitement to her friend. The other girl turned abruptly ignoring the disapproving look of her friend for her lack of discreetness, then her face lit up like the twilight sun and quickly hid her face on her friend's shoulder and they both laughed like little girls.

-          He’s so beautiful- she whispered exalted.

Jesse heard the cheerful chatter murmured between whispers by both women and felt a sting of curiosity. Before he could even thought about it, he was already looking for the fish stand ...

And there he was. The rumors that ran among the young women of the town didn’t make him justice and that scared him. He was expecting some strange looking man with exentric clothes, but in that moment the only thing he could do was agreeing with the young girl and had to stop himself from whispering the word like a marvelous prayer.

The stranger was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He was dressed in very stylishly clothes standing out like a diamond among the coal. He stands up strait and proud, his figure glowing with a light of his own. His pale, but radiant skin gleamed with the mid-afternoon sun deepening the contrast with his beautiful but severe, unforgiven dark gaze. His eyes reminded him of what he felt when he looked into the woods when the night fell. Exciting, dangerous and unknown. He didn’t know why, but he had always wanted to go to the forest at night. Only the crazy and suicidal would do something like that, his father used to say. In the forest, the creatures of darkness awaited. Something that marveled Jesse was the odd golden marks that the man has in his cheeks. The first time he heard about him it was from a little girl. She said that the man look like he was kissed by the sun and he couldn’t help himself but to agree with her. It wasn’t a better word to describe it.

Just by looking at the generous lips of the stranger, admiring the sharp angles of his face or the deliciously decadent line of his strong jaw, Jesse felt every inch of his skin burn and itch until he lost himself in a see of new confusing sensations. He found himself lost in the burning heat he had never known. His face was hot and flushed as if he had been looking at fire for a long time. His legs became shaky and he let a curse to himself. It was then, when he was so immersed in his panic and inner confusion that he noticed that not only he had been looking at the stranger for an awfully long time, but that the stranger was looking back at him.

Jesse covered his mouth trying to suppress an embarrassed gasp that, fortunately for him, it went unnoticed by others. The stranger held his gaze for an eternal second in which Jesse was physically unable to look away, and in that magical moment bathed in the golden/reddish light, the stranger smiled at him. A smile full of meanings completely alien to the boy that burnt him with need deep down his gut.

He couldn’t stop looking at him and without knowing how, or from where he draw strength, He raise his hand shyly and greet him. The smile of the stranger grew to show the hint of white perfect teeth and his face lit up in demure joy. His unforgiven eyes soften at the sight of Jesse. The stranger greeted him back, making Jesse's beaten heart throb with the strength of a wild horse and walking away into the woods at a slow seductive pace.

  The stranger kept his gaze fixed on the son of the pastor who shared nothing with his father more than those hideous church clothes. It was a marvelous intensity and yearning in those beautiful innocent eyes. Hanzo felt it on his bones, something that called his most basic instincts towards him. He felt as if that boy could see deep in his soul and yet there was wonder and admiration in his eyes. In all his years, Hanzo had never blushed just for crossing looks with a stranger. But this child, this insolent village boy had made him blush.

While walking back to his temporary home, he thought to himself that he wouldn’t been converted to Christianity if that boy was the one who made the attempt.

#metmarfil comic #metmarfil #mchanzo #fanfiction #the hunt au

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Fucking morí

Happy Spoopy Day! This was generously commissioned by @mercurytail​, who had this cute idea for a Halloween crossover.  Cowboy plushie McCree and Skellington Hanzo ❤ Also read this super cool thing she wrote ~

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oh...my god... I just came

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So yeah, I draw some shit. Who would though?!

1. Bunny slayer

2. Girls night. Because sometimes you need to go out, kill some dude in the forest with your girls while taking about that dreamy killer you met in the mental hospital.

3. An owl-bear that I found on the internet because the bitch can only draw pretty things if she copies it.

4. Some vector art of a pussy getting a little love. It sucks but I still want my "At least you tried" award. Because 2018, amirite?

#halloween #pussy #my shit #owl-bear is not mine

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My shit

The reunion.

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SAO is built in rape glorification in the fairy incest arc but nobody looses their shit for that

Goblin Slayer depicts sexual violence as the most vile, barbaric and unforgivable act imaginable, and depicts any that engage in it as a literal subhuman creature that is mercilessly slaughtered in some of the most severely violent ways possible by a character that has been severely traumatized from witnessing it firsthand. That is the literal opposite of glorification and promotion.

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DUUUUUUDE, THAT SOUND SO FUCKING AMEZING!!!

Waster World AU a Mchanzo fanfic brainstorm

A gift for @metmarfil 

A thanks for being awesome and getting my creativity flowing <3

Here’s a fic idea, that Metmar implied to me and I just took off with it! Feel free to comment or add in any idea’s you may have too!

Waster World Au - Mchanzo fanfiction brainstorm!

Inspired by :D motorcycle post and Water World/borderlands

dystopian/ post-apocalyptic world ridden with war, slavery, death and famine. 

“ain’t fit for livin’ but i’m already here so imma make the best of it” - McCree

The only way to survive is to sign yourself away to Gangs. Gang wars run the hierarchy or the world!

Overwatch is a group of organized gangs that have decided to follow a truce, in order to keep some semblance of peace/order.

Main Bigshots

Hanzo: is an ex-gang leader, exiled from his waste land. He refused to battle his brother (to the death) for the head spot and the gang wasn’t having it. So after making a fake show he left under the cover of night fall. Made his own bike. Has mad ninja skills yo

Jesse: ex-member of the Deadlockers gang, was picked up after they tried to kill him by Gabe while he was leader of  Blackwatchers gang. (a allied gang of the Overwatch troop) In current time; he’s the leader of a allied gang: The Tumbleweeds (short, sweet, and swift) :D all of them wear serapes! Cause why the fuck now.

> Jesse, Torb, Rein, Brig all like to build bikes together….when they have the free time :3

Supporting Characters v

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