#i hope you liked this reply!!

[mad-hunts]

“I’m not suspicious. I’m just cautious.”

after hearing those first three words, barton decided almost immediately that the other must've been lying through her teeth. he saw the look that she gave him. or, what he perceived to be a look, anyway. it was filled with unease at what she was witnessing; though, barton truly hadn't done anything wrong ( yet ). though he supposed a part of him could understand why this might look bad to other people. he was going on a date with a woman he'd met a week prior that night and she seemed to be completely 'trashed' now. which, didn't exactly inspire confidence in anyone around him that she was one hundred percent 'a-okay.' it unfortunately wasn't unheard of for criminals to try to get their victims in an inebriated state so that they could steal from them more easily or worse. especially in a city like gotham.

but if barton was being honest, his date being what he liked to call a ' light weight ' and getting drunker than a skunk off of just two drinks was not something he wanted to happen. things just seemed to steer in that direction as he had faith that his partner could make her own informed decisions about how much alcohol she wanted to consume. she was only a few years younger than barton, after all, but it seemed like she had bit off more than she could chew anyhow. a sigh left the blonde's lips as he adjusted his hold on her slouching body so she wouldn't fall. he was hoping, or perhaps praying might be a better word to use in this context, that giving her a ton of water to drink might help relieve her of some of her symptoms; the most concerning one arguably being the most obvious one. but that unfortunately didn't come to pass. barton's date, dana, could not stay on her own two feet to save her life.

and it was really starting to annoy barton. in the end, however, he had to remember that they were in a quite populated bar environment and openly showing that? it might not be the best move to make. thus, barton plastered on the best smile that he could while his eyes zeroed in on khare's. the more friendly he appeared... the better, as that would probably make her more amenable to leaving the two of them the hell alone. barton was planning on killing dana after this date, and nothing was going to change that, ❝ oh, yeah. i totally get that. you can never be too careful whenever it comes to this town, right? but i promise you that my date is in good hands! me and her were just talking about how i'm gonna drive her home because she's had a little too much to drink. right, dana? ❞

a beat had passed without no response from his date, but then a hurried nod came from her as she fazed back into reality. god's — why couldn't this have been like any of the other dates he'd been on that week that ended in disaster for the other person? barton thought he had always been pretty careful not to draw attention to himself while he was out. and that way, he wouldn't be remembered, but he probably would be now. the actual action of opening the door in front of him couldn't come soon enough; a recited, nervous chuckle leaving his mouth, ❝ anyways... you saw my beautiful partner confirm it. now, would you please excuse us? i believe dana also said something about feeling nauseous, and i do not want to be cleaning vomit off my seats. so, the sooner we leave, the better. ❞

[inkskinned]

one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

[chloesimaginationthings]

oh,,

cat's...

My addition… scooped Michael cat

[inkedberries]

i have a headcanon that Yoichi trims AFO's hair because i can't help but compare AFO's nicely trimmed hair to Yoichi's and i thought someone had to have cut AFO's hair for him and it is only logical for me to assume it was Yoichi who did. I think AFO would only trust Yoichi to be so close to him with a sharp object like a pair of scissors lol

I think Yoichi would have also liked cutting his brother's hair at first, because it would make him feel helpful in a way? And I just think even when AFO put him in the vault, AFO would still go there to get his hair trimmed by Yoichi.

and once Yoichi joins the resistance, he offers to do this for Kudo as well.

[technically-human]

Hi i'm absolutely in love with the reverse au!!

I want to know, in this verse does edwin still confesses to charles? if so how is it different? i feel if he did he would end it by apologizing, you know, religious guilt and all

There’s a train that goes through Hell.

Its journey starts in Wrath, and it departs already full of souls. It took Charles far too many years to realize that there were separate, more spacious wagons that demons could board. Not that he could understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t.

Actually, Charles couldn’t recall ever boarding the train. As far as he could tell, he just appeared there one day, and had spent the next tortuous decades trying to get out. It was part of the torture. Getting out was entirely possible. More than that, it was necessary.

The train had no regular schedule that he could discern (not at first, though he had always been good at finding patterns, and was eventually able to crack it) but it would make quite a few stops before finally returning to the Wrath ring. Souls inside the train were already angry and far too close to each other (close, so close not even air could squeeze in) but when they got really violent was when the train made a stop.

Getting out didn’t mean you were free, no matter where you managed it, be it Sloth or Gluttony, Pride or Lust. No, as soon as the train finished its journey, you would appear back inside, in Wrath where you belonged, suffocating once again, getting ready to claw your way out for the millionth time.

Because if you didn’t get out, The Conductor would get you.

If he thought about it calmly, Charles could probably say that he got out of the train more times than not. Still, being caught by The Conductor once was bad enough, as there was no coal in Hell, and something had to serve as combustible. Souls could not burn to death, and the whole journey always felt longer than eternity when he was caught. Once it was over, he would be inside again, and fight with more desperation than before, not caring who stayed inside so long as it wasn’t him.

He couldn’t understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t. But as the souls pushed and bit and clawed and punched their way out, Edwin boarded the train. And that wasn’t even the most groundbreaking revelation Charles had that day.

ko-fi

[persicipen]

Hi so what do we think of a relatively awkward first make out sesh w sunday like...both of you guys are kind of clueless on what to do

(we think it is very cute to be clumsy together) 🤍 With Sunday, it’s a lot of push and pull, going back to square one over and over again, so it can be quite disheartening and uncomfortable at first, especially if patience is something you two have to learn along the way. He’s beyond loving when it comes to you, but hides his own insecurities about himself somewhere deep in his heart, which resurfaces during attempts at getting intimate.

Would it be alright for him to touch you? To be the one to make you feel good? Such doubts halt his hands from roaming across your body. Yet, at the same time, he cannot even imagine someone else in his place. No, it has to be him.

He’s amazed how you feel against his fingertips. He wants more. Grab you by your waist, hoist you up by the hip, run his nails gently down your shoulder to cause goosebumps to appear on your skin. Your breathing is uneven, hitching every time he nibbles at the spot that turns out to be your sweet one — so he kisses and licks it again, as many times as you want him to. Sometimes he stops by accident, getting you out of the mood, muttering out an apology before smooching you once more, cuddling closer, letting you on his lap. Your little moans that you try to bite back tickle his wing. It flutters nervously against your face, fanning his red cheeks — because, gosh, he’s so embarrassed and hot, but he doesn’t want to pull back.

However, the question remaining is whether you will let him continue. Hmm, will you? He almost begs in a whisper against your ear, just one layer of clothing down or maybe just allowing his hands to sneak under your shirt and glide along the arch of your spine, pinch your sides and giggle as you squirm.

You’re just so cute. But so is he in your eyes, which is why you let him take that one step further. Is it okay? Surely, you both want it. One more kiss, one more hug, an involuntary roll of your hips together that gets you both to gaps into each other’s mouth and pause the messy kiss (you still try to find a matching rhythm, so the tongues work awkwardly, oddly intimate).

While there will me so many more occasions to continue, a quiet voice inside your head urges you to prolong this one session. A special one. Your first one together with Sunday.

[pia55tri]

“I just moved to my new Monaco apartment, but the removal company refused to carry my mattress upstairs, you live in my building, can you help me?”

thank you, anon, for sending this prompt in and all the other prompts 🫶

It’s just the universe laughing at him, really, that he’s gone and knocked on the neighbour’s door and it opens to Carlos Sainz Jr.’s perfect fucking face. In Monaco.

Oscar doesn’t even know why he’s so surprised. It was Lando who recommended this building to him, a little away from the more busy centre of the little-big city of Monaco. He said he needed it to be subtle, he needed a little bit of air. And Lando, who thrives in the bustle and chaos of the metro, immediately went, Ah! I know the place for you, mate. Check it out? Oscar did and it was perfect. And of course, he should have known that the place was exactly to his standards and needs because Lando heard about it from Carlos, who Lando has always liked saying is very similar to Oscar in all the ways that matter but that Oscar refuses to acknowledge.

“Oscar,” Carlos says with a pleasant inflection that mollifies the brief spike in Oscar’s heart rate. “What a happy surprise. Are you living here, now?”

And Oscar just looks at him with wide eyes. Oscar is still in his crumpled airport clothes and smelling of the sun and desperate for a nap. Carlos is — His hair is a mess about his head. His cheeks are covered with scruff darker than Oscar is used to seeing. And he’s shirtless, flushed lines all over his skin like he was just in bed. And. He looks like he smells like… fresh sheets or pancakes. Luxury cologne.

“Erm. Yeah. Yes. I just moved in today, actually. Actually, I knocked because,” he cringes, “because I needed someone’s help and you were the neighbour…” And, really! He should be grateful his neighbour just so happened to be someone who actually spoke the one language he could speak  and not one of the many languages he didn’t. “The moving company left my mattress downstairs and I was thinking of getting maintenance to help bring it up, but they’re all busy right now. I just. I need help.”

(Somewhere in the city, Lando Norris is laughing at him.)

Carlos patiently listens throughout his long, winding plea, and then, finally, nods, and says, “Sure. Let me just put a shirt on.”

“Right,” Oscar says.

Carlos doesn’t even bother closing his door, so Oscar stands there and tries not to watch his muscles moving as he tugs on a shirt that pulls tight around his unfortunately well-shaped biceps.

“Stairs?” he asks.

They’re not anywhere near the ground floor. So, of course, Oscar can’t turn down a challenge like that, and he says, dumbly, “Sure.”

That is how Oscar finds himself not staring at Carlos’s broad shoulders as they make their winding way down too many flights of stairs.

Oscar doesn’t even know what they talk about as they go. All he can think about is how warm it is in the stairwell, and how it makes Carlos’s lilting accent bounce around and settle into the folds of his brains. It must be the jetlag. Or the Monégasque heat. Or the insanity his sisters have always sworn he had.

When they get to the lobby, his mattress is exactly where the moving company had left it, laid mortifyingly out in the open. Thankfully, it is the middle of the day and no other residents are walking about the place to bear witness to this entire thing. Together, they haul the mattress to where it miraculously fits inside the elevator and pick up a rather lovely conversation that Oscar isn’t used to having outside a long plane-ride or at one of someone or other’s parties. What he is used to is ignoring how Carlos’s biceps bulge every time he moves or how his plush lips fall open when he breathes.

When they manoeuvre the mattress around his, actually rather sparse, furniture and onto his bedframe, Oscar is so relieved and grateful that he doesn’t even blush about his underwear lying on the floor of his room.

“Thank you,” he says, kicking a pair of Calvin Kleins behind himself. He tries for a smile. “Really appreciate it, mate.”

“It’s nothing,” Carlos shrugs.

“No, it’s really not,” he insists, leading them to the kitchen. “Actually, do you want to stay for lunch? It’s really the least I could do.”

Carlos raises his brow. “So polite?”

Oscar is about to say something smart when he abruptly shuts his mouth and spins back around from the empty fridge to face Carlos. “I. Erm.”

Carlos looks amused, eyes crinkling at the corners. Oscar can feel the heat radiating off himself.

Carlos laughs easily. “I’ll pick a place and you pay, okay?”

And Oscar nods, calm and cool. “Sure.” He can do that. It’s absolutely normal.

“I’ll drive.”

Oscar keeps nodding. “Erm. Cool.” Very cool. A ride in Carlos’s Ferrari. Nice. Cool. Chill.

But then, Carlos winks and says, “It’s a date.”

And Oscar, helpless, charmed, does not swoon. Instead, he says, “Yeah.”

[caelanglang]

chuuya will go insane seeing dazai cry? zamn would pay to see that lmaoo

hi, i kinda went insane thinking and drawing about this one.

a continuation of the drunk fem!dazai post !

mini bonus:

update: now with extra here ~

[egregiousmeme-art]

I think you should draw Odile more, i think Odile in your style would be soooooooo cool : >

Of course anon, anything for you (smol kiss)

iSaT Daily Doodle until I post my fucking animatic™: Day 12

Now with more Odile

[shukruut]

Thank you for helping me realize Quinlan Vos was transition goals

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

your art is absolutely amazing

i just went thru all of the poorly drawn mdzs and it was amazing seeing your art develop!

you just made my morning, thabkyou <3

Thank you so much for the kind words, and for cheering me on as I continue to learn!

[iliothermia]

Since you said we can ask, do you mind if I ask how you plan your backgrounds? They're so intricate and pretty

I just can't bring myself to draw anything that isn't contained within itself often. It's all about framing and containment for me.

Cultural references, important moments in a character's story, celebrating Tu Bishvat, flowers from my childhood attached to memories- framing is a great place to put things that aren't the focus of the piece but little supporting details about the subject, or you. Framing within framing is also helpful for me, to keep things detailed but also have a balance of not-overwhelming space too. Envisioning the space where things happens helps. After I figure out composition the unplanned rest of it can just fit in those planned spaces of busy-ness.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Is it just me but your SB Vanessa looks a lot like Samus Aran from Metroid???🤔

Yall heard of Michael Leon Kennedy

Now get ready for Vanny Samus Aran

[icantalk710]

Looong day of catching up on emails and work to set myself up to be (mostly) on vacation as of xmas 😩☕😵‍💫

[bixels]

While I do think anon was rude, I do think it's pretty shitty to set up all this stuff you were going to add the au and then just drop it. It's disappointing. Definitely unfollowing.

Bye.

[fairyroses]

— SMALLVILLE, "Tempest" (1.21) & "Fragile" (5.18)