#he is kind of me ngl

[mosstuk]

so much upturned art….. so much lethal company art….. I am addicted…

[aethersea]

I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.

it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"

plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.

anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.

[weirdglassthing]

LOA Shiptober Day 4: How They Met

October content month was ambitious..

This one took me. Shockingly long. Whoops! I’ll probably end up jumping around the prompt list and it might extend into November 😋

I’ll try to do day 31 on the actual date of Halloween though 🫡

[noodles-and-tea]

Haha he said the thing-!!!

[heich0e]

ok but who among your faves has insane exes. statistically some of them must. like they're not only extremely hot but also despise you bc u landed what they fumbled. they watch your instagram stories from burner accounts

[katabay]

a little one shot scene that I did back when I was sick uhhhhh last year. since it's now 2025. jesus christ, the passage of time sure is a concept.

anyway, I think this is as done as this page is ever going to get, partially because I decided to go in a different direction with fashion decisions, and I like how kay's hair turned out, so I'm freeing it from my WIP folder :)

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star | Judd & TK Parallels

[lukazade]

Sleepover with two puny mortals that you're in love with (and everything can go right).

Lowkey based on a fanfic I was writing, but as usual I haven't the confidence to post it! Yeah~

Had this in the drafts for months,,,, figured I'd finish it up now so it's done. I like to kinda have some Finished art on the page hahahaha

[wheneverfeasible]

When Steve’s parents announced their divorce, Steve told Eddie he loved him. They weren’t dating at the time, though Steve thought that the feeling was mutual to at least some extent since Eddie always flirted back with him, but he hadn’t been certain.

He had known his parents stopped loving each other years ago. Hell, he didn’t know if they had ever truly loved each other, but in any case, Steve knew.

His parents decided to sell the house, to move away from Hawkins with its cursed misfortune and small town gossip, and there was no talk of either of them taking Steve with them. Which, sure, he was grown, he hadn’t been part of the conversation at all.

Steve was left at a crossroads on what to do. So, distraught at his change in circumstances, he’d gone straight to Eddie’s and confessed his feelings because he had to know if it was at all possible for anyone to want him the way he wanted them.

Luckily enough for Steve, Eddie did!

The Munsons still had a decent amount left over from the government hush money after everything, so Eddie took his share (Wayne tried to get him to take more since all Wayne had lost was physical possessions and the trailer while Eddie almost lost his life, but Eddie would only agree to a 50/50 split) and together he and Steve threw caution to the wind and found a small place to rent together in one of the new complexes being built as part of the town’s rejuvenation project.

Things were going great. They still visited Wayne, who could now stop working such long hours at the plant and who had moved to a small fixer upper on the outskirts of town. He even moved up the ladder at the plant after some of the higher ups were lost in the “earthquakes” (R.I.P.), which offered better pay and benefits.

Wayne even started dating again, which Eddie informed Steve of in such a scandalized tone, but Steve could tell that Eddie was happy for his uncle, ribbing the older man when they had stopped by one morning and the man hadn’t even been home, stumbling back an hour later with lipstick stains on his shirt’s collar.

(Wayne had told him that he was going to call the cops on them for breaking and entering while he was gone, but there was no heat in it as they set chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and a steaming cup of coffee before him, having made use of the kitchen while he was out.)

Wayne never introduced any of the women he dated to Eddie and Steve, saying that it wasn’t proper to introduce anyone to the kids yet until he was certain that things were serious, never mind that the “kids” were well into their 20s now.

(Steve also felt a warmth at being included as a “kid” of Wayne’s, however, filling a hole in his heart that his parents had left behind, though his mother had recently reached out to him to rekindle their relationship. His father remained radio silent.)

Eventually, however, there was someone Wayne kept seeing repeatedly, someone he’d met while outside of town when he was at some convention for work and her car had broken down outside of his motel room. She hadn’t left the motel room until the next morning, and Wayne was certain it was just a single night of passion, but…

They had really hit it off, it seemed, and though Wayne hadn’t thought such an amazing and sensual—(“Uncle Wayne! For the love of everything holy, unholy, and whatever’s in-between, please don’t say sensual!)—woman would be interested in him, they exchanged numbers. And then, the day after he’d told her he should be home again from the trip, she called him.

Things only progressed from there, and soon enough there were talks of something committed, of something truly serious, and after a while, Wayne broke the news.

“Boys, my partner is going to be moving back to Hawkins and, while we know it’s a giant leap, we decided to move in together.”

As it turns out, apparently the woman is actually from Hawkins too but had left after the earthquakes tore the town apart, so she is someone that they actually knew. Wayne still won’t tell them who it is, however. He seems a little embarrassed by that, actually, but he also tells them that he is the happiest he’s ever been and he was willing to fight to be with her, so what else can they do but accept that?

They are thus excited for him, excited to finally meet her (again?), and the plan is set that they would have a family dinner together once she was in town. Steve and Eddie are, of course, moderately worried given the whole being queer thing, but Wayne assures them that they will be safe. That Wayne had made damned certain that both his boys would be safe.

(Steve again feels that warmth of belonging to someone, of being loved and cared for and supported in a way he’d never known before.)

And then the day arrives. Steve and Eddie show up early, looking pretty damn spiffy they believe, and help Wayne get the dinner ready, though it’s more like a late lunch really. Eventually, they hear the sounds of tires outside of Wayne’s house.

Wayne, smiling and looking absolutely besotted, moves toward the front door to let his girlfriend in without missing a second. Steve and Eddie hear the door open and close from the kitchen, hear quietly murmured words and what disgustingly sounds like kissing, and then there’s footsteps and—

Steve turns around to greet this mysterious woman, a smile on his face, before dropping the bowl of salad in his hands as shock and something very much like horror make itself known to him.

“MOM???!”

~

Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff

[limonnitsa]

MUDBLOOD

[jadecantcreate]

i wanted to write a quick 3-chapter fic for day 4 of loa shiptober (how they met i think) and i (a fool) was like. yeah. i could totally write 3 chapters in a few hours. i was wrong. SO wrong. haven’t even finished kremy’s (the first one).

so instead have a maybe-past-kremy design that im conflicted about compared to his current design, as a peace offering

[brodorokihousuke]

I want to let the two people who commented that I'd love Komaeda know that they're directly responsible for causing this. as are the people on my server who were enabling me

This was. supposed to be a doodle. but I guess it's mostly fully rendered. that tie looks so nice. Version w/ face bandage under the cut.

if you just want my art check out @brodartrokihousuke

While it's more accurate to DD Apollo, I felt like the bandage kind of took away from things. Still saved it, though.

[normal-person-i-promise]

hushed affirmations and gentle caresses

arataka reigen x female reader

no tws :] just a bunch of fluff and kissing

first chapter here, though its not needed to understand this one :> it makes more sense though

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

★ ★ ★

You wake up a little earlier than Arataka does. It's about... 10, 10 in the morning, when you awaken to see he hasn't woken up yet. The city outside your bedroom window is alive with the weekend chatter and the excited footsteps that come with it, though it's barely audible; you're too busy focusing on Arataka's slow, steady breathing as his chest rises and falls, studying the way his eyes would flutter as he shifts, trying to get comfortable...

You're still nestled comfortably in his arms, that familiar scent of his sharp cologne and the soft cotton of his white dress shirt bringing a sense of peace and comfort to you. He's warm, his arms wrapped around you almost protectively, your head resting on his chest as you lay on top of him — he's like the cutest, most comfortable pillow you've ever slept on.

And he's going to have the worst hangover.

You lay there quietly in Arataka's warm embrace, just... Staring up at his calm face, his kissable lips set in a slight smile, his eyes shut tightly as he dreams. His golden hair is disheveled, his bangs out of place and in a halo on the pillow.

He's so... Cute, god...

You find your hand on his face: tracing his jaw, feeling the sockets of his eyes and running your fingers through his hair, cradling his cheek and running a thumb across his lower lip — you're almost playing with him, like a child with a new doll, toying with and pulling whatever you can. It's hard to resist, after all; he's too cute not to touch.

Arataka doesn't awaken, thankfully.

You free your other arm from his embrace and now bring both your hands up to his face, a mischievous grin plastered on yours as your gentle hands settle on him. Pinching his cheeks, squishing and pulling them like a grandmother with her grandchild, you coo and fawn, mumbling and murmuring about how absolutely adorable he is. You run your hands through his messy hair, adjust his soft, white dress shirt, fidget with the digits of his fingers.

It's only a second later when Arataka stirs and you panic to rapidly remove your hands from his face. He shifts you in his arms, his eyes fluttering open slowly, slowly, taking a moment to focus before they find yours. He seems to short circuit as he stare at you in confusion, before—

"EH?!"

He pushes you off him quickly, scrambling to put some distance in between the two of you. He stares at you, shaken, before the events of the night come rushing back to him — it causes his face to flush a bright, bright red for just a moment before he hides his face in his hands.

Arataka grumbles and groans in embarrassment, and you can't help but find it absolutely adorable.

You were so... Warm, in his arms, it felt so... So right, like you were supposed to be there, and, oh— last night, your touch? Your sweet, sweet hands caressing his face so, so lovingly? And, god, your voice, your voice when you asked him if he was okay? The kiss—?!

He bends over on himself in the purest form of embarrassment you've ever seen, muttering and mumbling words laced with regret.

He can't help but... Miss you, though. Miss how nice it felt with you in his arms.

The whole time all these thoughts are racing through his groggy mind, you're staring at him with a mixture of concern and amusement, not sure whether to comfort him or tease him about it.

A splitting headache begins to pound at Arataka's head, an extreme fatigue forming in his muscles and limbs, and a sharp pang of regret starting to stab him in the pit of his stomach. A hangover, and regret.

"God, I messed up..." He mutters bitterly into his hands, low under his breath so that you won't hear. You hear it anyway, though.

"I warned you you'd regret it," you say to him, the smug grin you have plastered on your face audible in your voice, making Arataka grumble even louder. He stays quiet other than that, though.

Your grin widens when you don't hear a reply from him, deciding to see just how red you can get his cheeks.

You lean in close, just enough for your warm breath to ghost over his hands pressed tight to his flushed face. "And who was the one nodding his head when I asked whether he was sure?"

You let a beat of silence pass, before, with a voice laced heavily with a smug grin,

"You, was it?"

You stay quiet for a moment to see his reaction, feeling a surge of pride when you see Arataka's shoulders stiffen as he grumbles louder.

More memories, along with more opportunities to tease him, come to mind.

"And who, pray tell, was the one who asked to sleep in my flat?"

You tilt your head to the side, cradling your chin like a great philosopher pondering a deep question. Your eyes roam around the room for just a moment before they land on Arataka again — and he's aware of how your gaze traces his face, running up and down in an almost fascinated daze. You still manage to keep your tone teasing, though.

"Because it certainly wasn't me."

Arataka makes muffled sobbing noise, almost in pain as you watch the red from his cheeks spill over to his ears and neck.

God, you're so... Annoying, especially when you talk like that, reminding him of all the things he did when he was drunk last night...

He— he was drunk, okay?! He wasn't thinking straight! It doesn't matter how long he's wanted to kiss you, he—!

"Stop... Talking..." Arataka groans through gritted teeth, his tone begging and his voice thick with regret.

You arch a teasing brow at him.

"Oh? And why is that?"

You lean in even closer, reaching your hands up to his wrists and wrapping your fingers around them, trying to pry his hands off his face to get a better look at his flushed cheeks. You manage to get them off, holding them near his cheeks.

"Embarrassed, are we?"

Arataka's eyes are wide with fear as he stares at you, his breathing quick and shallow, his face redder than the colour itself. Your eyes fall down to his lips, and his cheeks seem to flush even more, impossible as it is.

His mind is still reeling from the clumsy kiss from the night before — you'd tasted just like the cola you'd drank, your lips cold from the ice and your hands cooling on his hot skin. It felt so... Good, but, god...

Steam almost spouts from his ears as his mind overheats. His expression is overwhelmed as he stares at you with the reddest face you've ever seen on someone, his mouth slightly agape.

Arataka clears his throat, casting his gaze to the side as he struggles to get his hands out of your grasp. You let one hand go, bringing the other into both your hands and beginning to fidget with the fingers.

"Don't... Tell anyone, please," he almost begs in a whisper, his breathing growing shallow as you run a hand up and down his arm, fidgeting with him — bored with nothing to do with your hands. He likes when you touch him. He likes your warm, warm hands on his skin. He likes how you're so comfortable with just... Fidgeting with him like some toy.

Don't stop, please.

"Aww, okay," you say in disappointment, cracking each of Arataka's knuckles with a satisfying 'click!'. He lets you, watching as your hands move from one finger to another, almost mesmerized.

He lets out a sigh of relief at your words, just as you take his other hand and beginning to crack the knuckles on that one, too.

Though he won't ever admit it to you, he likes it. He likes how you handle him just like a little girl with a new doll, he likes how you so lovingly press your lips to his knuckles, he likes how gentle your fingers are as you run them across his cheeks and over his features — it makes his mind go haywire and his heart beat wildly in his chest.

He likes you. He likes you a lot, a lot more than he thinks he does.

You let go off his hands, getting up and off the bed. You stretch, your back popping.

"Hey, Arataka," you ask, your gaze growing worried. You reach a hand out to smooth his golden hair down, trying to make it neater — you're aware of the horrible hangover he's probably having right now.

He hums in response, closing his eyes in contentment.

"I'll go get you some painkillers for your hangover, yeah? Make you some soup and toasted bread?"

He leans into your touch as you cradle his cheek, a low, contented hum vibrating his chest. His eyes are closed tightly, and he startles when you remove your hands and he loses your touch, his eyes snapping open.

"Oh, u-uh, what? Yes, alright, mm-hmm, okay!" Arataka says quickly, embarrassed.

When you get there, Arataka is waiting for you, his cheeks flushing when he sees you again. Every time he lays eyes upon you, the events of last night come rushing up to him...

You prepare his food quickly — it's just a cup of warm tea and a can of boxed soup. You toast some buttered bread as the water boils, and when it's done, you bring the bowl of soup, the plate of toast, and the cup of tea to the bedside table.

He takes the bowl and toast, dipping the bread and biting a piece off with a loud 'crunch!" and swallowing loud enough to get you to know that he's enjoying it. You watch him; you'd prepared a simple breakfast of your favourite flavoured spread on plain, untoasted bread for yourself, and you munch on it as Arataka downs the tea greedily, chugging the soup and stuffing the bread down his throat.

He loves you, he supposes, though he's never loved someone before.

You'd made something for him. You, who's always kind and understanding with him; you, who always jokes with him; you, who he loves with all his heart, had made something for him, no matter how small. Him, Arataka, of all people, was the one you chose to love.

He can't even begin to explain just how much he appreciates you — his words would become nothing more than a mumbly jumble, his manners dissolving into a flustered mess.

"Anything else I can get you?" You offer politely and so, so lovingly, just as Arataka is swallowing the painkillers.

He grins.

"You can get me a kiss, but I—"

You cut him off before he gets to finish, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you. He's taken aback by your directness, his eyes going wide and his body stiffening — though it's not long before he's returning the kiss, closing his eyes tightly and leaning into it.

Pressing your lips gently to his, you run a careful hand through his hair, caressing his cheek with a loving touch. You can feel the crumbs of the toast and the warm taste of the tea and soup on his lips.

He tastes... Comforting, you suppose. A familiar flavour, that scent of the mouth of someone who's just woken up, the warm taste of freshly toasted bread, the salty flavour of the powdered soup. He tastes nice.

You're careful not to make the kiss last too long, in case he loses his breath; and you're taking care to make sure your touch isn't too painful on his head, lest his headache return.

When you break the kiss, Arataka is nothing more than a mess of mumbly words and flushed cheeks, his hands shaky and his eyes wide. He's so, so cute, in the way that he'd struggle to form proper sentences, the manner in which he'd clumsily try to keep you close.

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, those familiar butterflies in his stomach making his head spin and his vision swim. You kissed him again, you kissed him again! Oh, god, you kissed him...

Arataka gives you lopsided grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm like he'd just eaten.

"That will suffice," he says with utmost confidence.

Just in case, of course, you kiss him again. He seems to be getting the hang of it — he tilts his head to press his lips more onto yours, keeps a hand to the back of your head to elongate the kiss, runs a hand up and down your spine.

When you break the kiss, you wrap your arms tightly around him, squeezing his ribcage so hard it elicits an absolutely adorable yelp of surprise from him, followed by rushed words to loosen your grip.

You're laying on top of him as you crush his torso under yours, your head resting below his shoulder.

You've noticed he's gotten a lot more confident: he can form proper sentences and talk without mumbling, his movements aren't as shaky and uncontrollable, and his kisses are getting better with each time he practices on you.

Arataka wraps his arms around you as you get settled on him, resting his chin on the top of your head. You're so... Comforting, so warm and soft... You're nice to have in his arms, and he finds himself adjusting you do that you're as pressed up against him as he can possibly get it.

You can hear his gentle snoring after ten minutes or so. You wake him up, saying you're going to go shower for a moment as you slip out of his groggy grasp.

You shower as quickly as you can, changing into your most comfortable pair of home clothes. The soft cotton hands loosely off your frame when you enter your bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as you bundle your dirty clothes and throw it into the laundry basket.

Your eyes fall to Arataka as he stares at you.

"Uh, right, I... Got this. Here."

You rummage through your cupboards. It's only a moment later when you take out a pair of folded clothes, slowly placing it next to where Arataka sits comfortably in your bed, lounging like he belongs there. Which he doesn't does, of course.

"These should... These should fit you," you say awkwardly, clearing your throat.

He likes it. He likes you. He loves you.

Arataka, too, showers, though he takes a lot longer. He's wearing your clothes (not that he has a choice, but not that he minds), and, god, he... He loves the fact that what he's wearing now, you've worn before — the cotton of the shirt worn from years of usage, the pants you lended him warm against his skin — and it smells just like you; a warm, soft scent as he slips the clothing on, feeling the old threads cascading down from his shoulders and hanging loosely around his frame.

He finds it... Cozy, and... And sweet, the smell of the laundry detergent and that warmness of the sun. It's so, very, very... Comforting? It's comforting, to him.

Though his head hurts and his heart is beating so fast it threatens to burst, he still leans on the doorway, grinning so smugly you would've assumed you were the one hungover.

He calls your name in a smooth voice, one laced with confidence. "So we're dating now? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend type stuff?"

You're scrolling on your phone when he asks you that question, and you switch it off. Seeing Arataka wearing your clothes makes you feel... Nice. He doesn't seem to be arguing about it, at least.

You shrug, a thin smile on your face.

"Must be weird, huh? Finally getting a girl after being single your whole life?"

You narrow your eyes at him as he sputters, your grin widening as his cheeks flush.

He presses a hand tightly to his mouth, gripping the doorframe as his knees almost seem to buckle. The red from his cheeks is visible even through his fingers.

"You're going— to KILL me," he chokes out, his tone laced with embarrassment.

"AND, FOR THE RECORD—!"

Arataka jabs an accusing finger in your face, and you watch on, amused, as he talks in such a panicked tone that you find it hard to understand more than the first few words. He's shouting, yelling.

"ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS AREN'T EVERTHING IN LIFE! TO NOT HAVE A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP IS THE SAME AS NOT HAVING A GOOD MEAL! YOU CAN SURVIVE WITHOUT IT JUST FINE, BUT IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU HAD ONE!"

He scoffs in disappointment, crossing his arms, his tone almost annoyed — though that undertone of endearment is definitely there.

"I'm surprised you haven't learnt anything from working under me."

You roll your eyes.

"You can just say you're bitter about being single. It won't hurt you."

Arataka sputters again, opening his mouth to argue — but closes it quickly, realising that he's just making himself look worse. Instead, he crosses his arms tightly and grumbles, which an adorable display despite his agitation.

You grin, getting up and off the bed to ruffle his hair. He pushes your hand off, annoyance written on his face.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 144

Danny regrets nothing. He regrets absolutely nothing at all. Okay so maybe he regrets things a little bit, but it’s hard to concentrate. It’s hard to think, he…

He’s never died a second time before. 

It’s… weird. His head hurts, his body too-small, not in a younger sense, but almost in a… feeling sense. His skin feels colder, and his hair has- it has bits of white in it now? And he’d already been able to use his ghost abilities even in his human form but it feels… easier now. 

He’s not overshadowing his own corpse- he doesn’t think he is? His head hurts… his everything ached actually, like he’d gotten electrocuted again even if he’s certain that wasn’t how he died.

Did- did someone throw his body into the sewers? 

Seriously, what the heck? Who would do that?! Urgh, that made him so mad- who just throws a corpse around, nevermind his corpse! That’s so rude! 

… 

Hello crocodile-man staring at him in slight horror, please ignore the blood covering the back of his head, the wound has healed, he will be out of your way once he can talk again- Wait, there’s no need to call for someone-

[feng-shui71]

a boy who’s jacked and kind!

[milkisgrossew]

I got bored so I doodled some character portraits

j'onns my favorite he's so disappointed