#cigarette smoke filter

[nanoclean]

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[hakusins]

cw // smoking

lazy weekend with the bf

[kiivg]

HELLO!!!! Just wanted to tell you that I'm soooo in love with your Mcreid arts please never stop drawing them 🥹🥹🥹

.For you, baby!!! 😘🫶❤️. I've read at least one ☝️ fic of them smoking together, pretty sure that's the entire premise of the fic idk I cannae remember properly. BUT it does make me wonder if leeches should smoke considering they're remarkably more flammable than the average man, I feel like that's got to be like, dangerous to some degree. Like, 'lemme light up, babes' and p o o f up in smoke. Either way, nobody can deny the inherent eroticism of smoking together like that 🥴. I think maybe I'm getting better at drawing Jonny boy though, I know I'm not drawing his nose perfectly but the tip messes with my mind, I like a beaky nose, but I like them more when they're descending with an acutely hooked angle at the end.

[kply-industries]

Things are rough in the sepia filter district.

[givemethedamnflowers]

Me (a smoker) everytime i think abt how neil just burns cigarettes and doesnt smoke them :

[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..

[oddestishottest]

But we've been struggling endless days

Someday we'll find the love

'Cause after the Storm's

When the flowers bloom

[stone-cold-groove]

Just what does gas in cigarette smoke taste like? Ad for Lark cigarettes - 1970.

[redjennies]

I'm trying to compile a playlist around Freddy Fender's Wasted Days and Wasted Nights where the vibe is "western wailing songs that sound like you're so drunk you have the spins in a smoke-filled dive after a break up and we've now reached the point in the night where you're openly weeping at the bar" but I'm really blanking on songs that fit the theme better than Wasted Days itself. like I hear that song and I can viscerally smell stale Lucky Strikes and spilled Busch.

[anonomi]

Actual travesty that the only model of a cigarette i can find that is accurately the BLU Spy's is the fucking one that flies out of his mouth after he dies. It literally looks like he picked up this used cigarette off the ground, dusted it off and shoved it in his mouth without even bothering to light it. That's actually what happened. It's like one polygon. The RED Spy has like 50 different models for his shitty chesterfield cigarettes but the BLU Spy can only settle for pawning one off a corpse, I guess that's what he gets for smoking sobranies on the battlefield but oml it is so TINY, how can I make him do fancy finger gestures with this awful cigarette?? It's call shell_cigarette because it makes him a shell of his former self, it's so bad but I have to use it because I need to be lore accurate it's literally the only cigarette I can find that has a brown filter damn this man

[nanoclean]

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[h0munculs]

[mad-hunts]

How many shots would it take for you to sleep with @twcfaces ?

at the time that barton was asking this question, both him and matilda were about to enjoy some popcorn as a snack — you know, because it's delicious — but after hearing the last word? he stopped what he was doing. and coincidentally enough, so did matilda because she was about to grab some popcorn. but she heard all about what he'd told as well as tried to do to barton. which was almost kill him.

but anyways (LOL), you could practically feel the judgment coming from the both of them even though they weren't saying a thing: the best way to describe the stare they were giving the anonymous person who asked the question is that it was kind of like the, 'really? right in front of my salad?' glare, except if they were just exasperated instead of angry.

a few beats of tense silence passed, then before barton turned to matilda and was about to speak to her. though, it seemed she had guessed what her father was about to say already and left the room. that way, he could 'deal' with this anonymous person. barton cleared his throat then and faked a smile towards them, ❝ ahh — you know, i really didn't want to have to do this, anon. but you've forced my hand now... and i was trying to quit too, ❞ an overexaggerated sigh left his lips as he pulled a cigarette out of a pack he pulled out of the most random place ever (in a compartment in the cabinets that were too high for him, which he'd put there on purpose so he couldn't reach them easily. though he was lying about quitting so don't feel bad about that anon JSJSJ LOL)

barton stepped out onto his porch then and lit it, looking a bit like this sullen cat as he appeared to have lost all of the will to live. but he was really just being overdramatic.

❝ alright, who sent this in, hmm?! are you purposely trying to make me throw up in my mouth a little? because if so, then you succeeded, ❞ barton rose his voice but not enough to be considered yelling after saying this. a shiver ran down his spine just thinking about it. i mean, it wasn't that harvey and two-face weren't attractive in a general sense, but he literally told barton that maybe jim should've 'finished the job' whenever his father was killed by killing HIM too, and he also tried to shoot him (though he did technically provoke him, that was besides the point in his mind)!!

❝ i honestly can't believe that someone would ask this. i mean, part of me actually can, but you know what i mean. i'm not attracted to him at all, so i'm afraid i would have to take like... however many shots i need to not just get drunk BUT black-out drunk. like, i wouldn't remember anything of what happened between us, kind of black-out drunk, ❞ an incredulous laugh left his mouth while he put down the bowl of popcorn he was carrying.

barton narrowed his eyes at the other in suspicion before doing the ' i'm watching you ' motion with his fingers. ❝ alright, so i can't pretend to know why you saw it fit to put me through the terrible ordeal that is imagining me being with them, but just so you know; once i find out who you are... because i WILL find out, i'd watch your back. if this is the man himself though? i've got a special thing for you, and it's this star. ❞

[emmieexplores2]

1968

[jimjamjames]

My therapist showed me a new chart to help identify my emotions better and that is sincerely so helpful but she showed me during a bad week so I had to alter it. Do you think she'll like it

[landwriter]

Please, please tell me something about Untitled 1!

(By which I mean, of course, please share something you’re excited about)

excited about this Hob realization in 70s SF AU:

Hob grows quiet and starts unpicking a seam on his jacket, so he fishes out his cigarettes and offers the box. Hob takes one gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

---

“Anyways. Probably for the better. Doubt he wanted a queer or a poet for a son. Only other way I’ve really taken after him is smoking. Started two years after he died, same brand I remembered seeing in his truck. Lucky Strikes, like you. It’s where he had to smoke. Mom wouldn’t let him do it inside. Calls it a nasty habit.” Hob snorts. “’Least she used better words when she found out I was gay. I think she secretly hopes I’ll quit both. Send her a postcard one of these days: ‘Hi ma, San Francisco is great. I’m all finished with smoking and men. Still a poet, sad to say, but I don’t associate with the hippies here. Doesn’t the Golden Gate Bridge look lovely in this photo? Send my love to everyone.’”

Dream laughs. Hob beams, nudges his shoulder into him. “So. What about yours?”

---

“Why not?” He fumbles out a cigarette, lights it. He’ll play Dream’s mystery man for him. “C’mon, huh?” He takes a shaky drag. “Why not? Why don’t you take something from me, then, and we’ll call it even?”

Dream stares unblinking at him for a moment and then sets his beer down on the table with a sudden clatter. Shit, maybe he’ll deck me, he thinks, if I’m lucky.

Instead, Dream reaches out and pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts it between his own. Hob sways forward after it. Dream takes a long drag and tilts his head back to blow the smoke past Hob. His throat is pale. Like the fucking moon. His eyes haven’t left Hob’s. Sharp wet seaglass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, thinks Hob. Dream stubs out the cigarette and leans forward. He never smokes. He always has cigarettes, and he never smokes. His voice is rough from it. “Like that?”