#mmmm i might

[weaselishmcdiesel]

Make a titty trio

theyre at the beach you pervs

[celestellaz]

Inktober 06. Golden

[homriette]

Astesia

She is so pretty I don't think i made her justice, but here we are

Trying to get more comfortable posting sketches, even if they are colored ahaha

[periwinkla]

I live for Trucy trying to make Franziska laugh with her tricks...

Suggest blue! 💙💙💙

[redwinterroses]

That was the seventh ravager skeleton he’d seen in the past two days.

Jimmy turned his head slowly as the train rattled past, squinting into the sunset and trying to figure out if this one looked like it had been hunted, or had just… died that way.

Probably hunted. Most of the wild ravagers had been hunted at this point—you had to go deep into new generation to find the herds that used to cover this area of the plains. 

But the further he rode, the wilder things got. It had been two days since the train had passed through an actual town—and no, that hotel-and-pub at the last station didn’t count. That was a waystation, even if they were insisting on calling it Oakville. 

“Have to have a village to earn the ville,” he muttered to himself, resting his chin on his hand and staring out the window at the passing countryside. “Didn't even have an oak.” 

The setting sun cast bruising shadows from the scrubby trees and the tall, jagged boulders that broke up the flat landscape. Some of the formations were as tall as houses, and for a moment Jimmy let himself consider what it might be like to build on one of them. Use it as the foundation for a house, terraform around it—make an oasis of green in the dusty plain.

Then he shook his head and sat back from the window with a sigh. Not far enough, yet. He still had days—maybe weeks—of travel ahead of him.

The train gave a sudden jolt, and Jimmy winced as his head bounced off the hard wooden edge of the seatback. “Ow—” He touched his head gingerly. “What the—”

There was another jolt, harder this time, and the sudden high-pitched whine Jimmy had learned to associate with the brakes. The train was stopping.

But… here? They were nowhere near the next station. Wouldn’t be for hours yet.

The pit of Jimmy’s stomach flipped, and he stood, grabbing for his duster to slip it on over his suit. The bone-handled revolver hiding in his pocket was a comforting weight against his side, and he took a deep breath to slow the sudden racing of his heart.

Nothing good came of trains stopping suddenly in the middle of nowhere. Newsreels he’d seen in theaters back spawnwards flickered through his memories: desperate vigilantes, settlers who’d turned to crime… There were stories of entire trains being dismantled while the passengers sat for days in captivity, abandoned when the robbers had stripped the vessels of anything of value or use.

Jimmy quickly flipped through the people he’d interacted with while on the train. No faces stood out, no one had given him special notice. This was probably just a fluke occurrence: nothing to do with him.

Which meant he might be in real danger. 

He’d bought a cabin ticket, content to sleep on the flat horsehair mattresses on the train rather than risk a dodgy hotel or boarding house every night. It also gave him a private space on the train—no risk of a seatmate getting too friendly. 

The downside was that he was isolated from the rest of the train by surprisingly noise-resistant walls. Which meant he had no idea what was going on further up the line.

As the clacking sounds of the wheels on the tracks continued to slow, Jimmy drew out his revolver, checking the barrel with a practiced glance. Then, thumb on the hammer, he slid open the cabin door and leaned cautiously into the narrow hall.

A shout, half-muffled, echoed from the direction of the engine. Another voice yelled something back, and then there was a loud pop, like someone breaking a board.

Even over the sound of the train, Jimmy knew that sound, and he rubbed his thumb against the recoil shield of his revolver. Someone just taken a shot—hopefully not at another person. 

For half of a heartbeat, the smell of spent gunpowder and blood flooded his memories, and Jimmy swore. He pulled back into the cabin, pressing the heel of his free hand against the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut. 

Deep breaths, you gump, he chided himself, sweeping the flashback away into the depths of his brain. His hand was trembling and that was not what he needed in the middle of a… whatever this was. Train robbery, most likely. 

There was another shot in the distance, followed by two more in quick succession. Nearer, too. 

Jimmy gritted his teeth and forced himself back toward the door. 

I gotta get out of here, he thought. His cabin was near the forward end of the cabin—if he could get to the outer door, he might be able to jump from the car while it was still moving, get away from the train before anyone noticed him gone.

Or you could help the people stuck here, a spiteful voice in his mind suggested. But you won’t. Coward.

It’s not cowardice to try and keep a situation from getting worse, he told himself. The only problem was that heading for the outer door also meant heading toward the gunshots. He took a deep breath and started for the door.

He’d taken only a single step when the outer door burst open and a red-headed man in a battered derby came running full-tilt into the car. Jimmy had barely time to move his finger away from his revolver’s trigger before he was bowled over, both of them tumbling half into the sleeper cabin.

The stranger swore, his elbow going into Jimmy’s gut as he scrambled to his feet. 

“Watch it, greenhorn!” he snapped. His eyes went to the revolver, and narrowed. “Can you use that thing?”

Jimmy gasped for air. “When—when I can breathe, yeah,” he managed. 

Another shot and the scream of a woman in terror sliced the air. The train was barely moving now—maybe as fast as a horse at a trot, and Jimmy shoved himself to his feet.

“What’s going on?” Oof, his side ached sharply when he moved. If this idiot had broken something—

“It’s the Greysides gang,” the stranger said. He glanced outside the cabin, then slammed the door shut, whirling to look around the tiny space. “They’re harmless, mostly—”

A shot, a shout, and a crashing sound put doubt to that statement, and the stranger winced. “Emphasis on mostly. They just want diamonds. And, uh… me.”

“What?” Jimmy’s skin was itching with the need to run. From the criminals sacking the train or the stranger talking to him more directly than anyone had in weeks, he wasn’t sure. Toss up, really. But the sounds of altercations were getting closer, and they were running out of time.

“Nevermind,” the man in the bowler said. He glanced at the window. “Does that open?”

“Probably?” Jimmy hadn’t tried it. “But it’s at least a four block drop—”

The sound of the door to their car splintering open cut him off, and the stranger sprang to the window, flinging it open with deft fingers. He glanced back at Jimmy, and there was a glint of something in his eyes that wasn’t fear—something that almost looked like he was having fun.

“Coming?” he asked, and then he was gone, jumping from the window and vanishing into the dusk outside. 

Jimmy hesitated exactly two seconds—long enough to hear heavy boots tramping toward his cabin—and then with a gritted dammit he decocked his revolver, shoved it into his pocket, and leaped out the window. 

For an instant, the world was a silent riot of sunset shadows and the flash of lit windows passing him so quickly they blurred into one long line of golden light. And then he was slamming into the rocky ground, the wind knocked from his lungs, and rolling through the dirt and scrub.

He pitched to a stop in the low branches of a scraggly bush, gaping up at the emerging stars as his chest spasmed, desperately trying to figure out how to breathe again. The world was still spinning. Or he was still spinning. He was going to be sick.

With a heaving gasp, air came rushing back, and with it a whole host of new bruises and cuts and if he was lucky he was dying because every inch of him hurt like he’d been stomped by a ravager and there was a hand grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the bush and—

“Get off, get off—” he groaned, smacking weakly at his attacker. 

“Hey, you’re alive, good.” The red-headed man leaned over him, blocking the stars. He was smudged and his hat had a brand new dent, but his face was split with a wide grin. “First time jumping a train?”

Jimmy just groaned, and closed his eyes. The world would stop spinning in a minute. Probably. 

“No time for that, bucko.” There was a hand gripping his wrist and pulling him upright, shouldering under his arm and helping Jimmy stand. “Those pillagers are gonna notice I’m not on the train soon enough, and then they're gonna come looking.”

“So get going,” Jimmy said. He squinched his eyes half-open, testing to see if the horizon had gone back to staying in one place. “I’ll find my own way.”

“I’d love to, really I would.” The stranger started walking, and Jimmy was forced to stagger along with him or fall over again. “But I don’t like the idea of getting a kid killed, and if anyone saw you follow me—”

Bad cess, Jimmy grimaced, and pulled away from the stranger’s grip. “Killed?” he said. “You said they were harmless!”

“Yeah, well—” the stranger stepped back and gave him a rakish grin. “That doesn't really go for bounty hunters that infiltrate their gang and wire their location to the authorities right before a big diamond heist.”

“Bounty hunter?” Jimmy kept his voice level, but his hand twitched toward the gun in his pocket. He didn’t think the man noticed, not in this light. He wondered if he could draw fast enough.

“Tango Tek,” the man said, doffing his bowler. “Bounty hunter, trail boss, and occasional inventor—at your service.”

Jimmy hesitated a moment. Then: “James,” he offered, watching this "Tango" person's face closely. “James Solidarity.”

There was no flicker of recognition in the man’s expression, and Jimmy allowed himself to relax, just the smallest bit. 

“Nice to meet you, James Solidarity.” Tango glanced back at the train, which looked like it had all but slowed to a stop maybe three hundred blocks down the track. “Now, I say we head off before those goons get the idea to look outside for us.”

“For you,” Jimmy reminded him.

Tango flashed a big grin. “You’re stuck with me for now, Jim,” he said. “Leastaways until we hit a town. No offense, but you don’t look like you’d last long out here on your own.”

Stuck with me for now. The words stuck in Jimmy’s throat like gristle, and he swallowed past them.

“Right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

[solarpunkani]

I think one thing that would be nice to see explored a bit more in Solarpunk art/aesthetic posts is how Solarpunk will likely look different depending on where you are, what’s feasible in that area, weather patterns, etc.

Like its almost 5am so I’m gonna be rambly but like. A lot of the most common features of Solarpunk art so far are a bit of an art-noveau type look, with lots of stained glass. Heavy emphasis on solar power and windpower and trees. In no way, shape, or form am I going to pretend this is BAD! I love this look, I think its great and inspiring and I love the color green I just.

Maybe Solarpunk doesn’t mean ‘green’ for everyone everywhere. Solarpunk might be more… yellows, and reds, and oranges. If you live in a desert, where there aren’t a lot of trees. I’m thinking places like Arizona, New Mexico, Niger, Chad, Libya. What would solarpunk fashion look like in these places—I feel like embroidered jean overalls won’t be common here. Traditional wear from these places is GORGEOUS, and I’d love to see more of a highlight on it and these biomes in Solarpunk. What would the housing look like—how would you keep cool indoors and out? I’ve seen a few ideas put into practice, but what would you dream up? How would you make them fun?

Similarly, how about coastal communities? Sure there’d be lots of green—but green may stand for seaweed just as much as it would trees. Not to mention the vibrant blues of the sky and seas, and the rainbow of colors from coral and seashells and glittering scales. What would a solarpunk community look like along the coasts of places like Florida, Hawaii, Jamaica, etc.? How are some of these places already Solarpunk? Wind and solar power could be an option, but we can also use hydropower as well—what would a solarpunk hydropower system look like in your wildest dreams? Fish-shaped spinning turbines underwater, swimming like sharks? Would houses float and bob along the water? How would gardening be handled with mostly salt water around—rain water capture would be critical, I feel—or desalination of small amounts of salt water. What would the fashion look like HERE? What does it look like already?

What does solarpunk look like in snowy places—like Alaska, Canada, Greenland, Russia? When green comes around in spring and summer, but fall and winter brings expanses of snow and ice? Solarpunk fashion here would be a LOT cozier than the solarpunk fashion on a Florida beach. I’m imagining lots of furs and layers. How would traditional practices be used to stay safe and warm, how would energy be captured and stored during long and dark winters? Would communities here be more nomadic, traveling further south during the coldest months, or would they stay where they are and construct homes that easily stay warm with little output?

Its actively 5am now so if I don’t make sense by all means. I guess I don’t make sense. But this has been on my mind for a few days now and I guess as we get closer to Solarpunk Aesthetic Week, this can be a fun and interesting thing to keep in mind! Let this inspire your art, your music, your fashion, your stories, your musing, and how you reach out to others about the ideals of Solarpunk.

[dailyinkk]

no art today! have a headcanon!

ink is lactose intolerant❗️

[harryzroze]

something queer and soft for them since i've only been drawing angst so far lmao

silly under cut

[0vinosparv]

"You're no fun..." Villain grumbled, slouching with their arms crossed against their broad chest as they watched the TV screen with a subtle frown. They couldn't tell whether to be relieved or distraught, now that their evil deeds were on halt, for the time being. But they were nearly robbed of their rights to coddle their Hero every Friday night, and that was worse than losing to an entire band of heroes. "If you weren't bragging to me about your 'grand scheme' every time you kidnapped me, then you probably would have gotten away with flooding the city. Sometimes I wonder if you make it easy for me on purpose. I'm not THAT short you know." Hero replied with a laugh, kneeling on the living room floor to grab a pile of blankets from their ottoman next to the couch Villain was currently pouting on. "And besides, I'm pretty sure this is a better alternative for this evening, and I know how much you loathe the idea of swimming." Villain let out an audible groan, not wanting to admit that their nefarious plan did go against their entire nature; Villain hated water.

"Whatever, I might as well just live with the fact that my entire year's worth of work has amounted to nothing. Woe is me." The criminal's attempts to guilt trip their rival were fruitless. Or so they thought. "You said six months."

"I lied."

"Sure you did..." They rolled their eyes, acting like they were annoyed when in reality, they were the happiest criminal in the world. They still had something to look forward to every week, now that they had given in to Hero's demands. It was the best decision of Villain's life. "Well, you better make this night last twice as long, if you want to walk away scot-free." Villain warned jokingly, finally finding the humor in their "situation". Hero chuckled to themselves, placing the blankets down on the couch before grabbing one and wrapping it over and around Villain's body. Villain would have pushed them away if they knew better. Hero did the same to themselves, swaddling themselves in the plush fabric of the blanket before plopping down beside their enemy.

The silence that followed was deafening, only for the Villain, who was busy getting in a comfortable position while the Hero was practically using them as a pillow. Their heart skipped a beat when Hero rested their head on their shoulder. As much as they never liked to admit it, they had fallen head over heels for their archnemesis. Hero absent-mindedly shuffled through the TV channels, finally stopping once they found their favorite network. The show that aired every Friday evening was some mediocre and obviously fake paranormal investigation, which both the Hero and the Villain agreed they enjoyed watching. They were an odd couple. After a few minutes of shuffling under the covers, the rivals could finally sit back and relax, letting the heat of the day dissipate from their mind. . . . The hero thought they could relax, but this night felt very different from the rest. On most occasions, it was a tie between both enemies and on some, Hero lost to Villain. But this time, Villain was terribly defeated. "Do you still like me?" The question hit Villain like a brick. They looked at the Hero, who was looking back at them with a troubled glint in their eyes. "...Why do you ask that?" Villain said slowly, feeling their face grow hot at the question. Villain knew Hero was very straightforward with their questions, which is one of the reasons why they were in a relationship in the first place. But one thing Villain never wanted their beloved Hero to ask them was this. Hero fiddled with their fingers, sitting up against the couch cushions as they carefully worded their reply. "Now that I think about it, having a whole six months of work thrown in the trash sounds like something to be very upset about, but at the same time, I'm a hero. It's my job to foil evil schemes and all but..." The hero paused for a brief moment to catch their breath. "I feel like a terrible friend." Villain felt their heartthrob, and not in a positive fashion. The evildoer would have died any moment, this was worse than having a whole decades of work destroyed. They let out a soft sigh, placing their arm around Hero to pull them closer. Villain's gentle gaze met theirs, not faltering for even a second. They were used to comforting Hero now. Villain took Hero by the hand, bringing the other to cup their left cheek. A single tear went down the hero's face, and they quickly wiped it away before Villain could. "I can't think of anything on this Earth that could make me hate you. It doesn't matter what it is, you'll always be my hero." This side of Villain was foreign to everyone but Hero, who was now hugging them as if their life meant it. The villain hugged them back, extending their blanket outward so the hero could join them in their little cocoon. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, basking in the warmth of one another, as all enemies should. "I love you." Hero murmured, graciously planting a kiss on the Villain's cheek. They blushed madly, looking down at the hero in awe. "I love you too." Villain couldn't have this night any other way.

[eepyracc]

You guys I might actually combust

I am eating him up, devouring him in fact, committing cannibalism and other heinous acts in his name. I do NOT think I will be able to survive a week waiting for him pls send help

[bonemeal12]

Invulnerable Chew Toy WIP

[holysheithyall]

A faint memory

[shittywriterbrain]

thanks to rtd for including all of my current interests in one episode: bisexuality and body horror

[oifaaa]

Alfred has such an "I didn't sign up for this" vibe but he's had several chances to just leave at this point. I could totally see him coming back to life and being just as mad as Jason for petty reasons.

Sure, he has legitimate gripes with the Batfamily. He might have felt pressured into parenting Bruce, who I'm sure was a difficult child. Maybe he thought Bruce had nowhere better to go. Once Bruce was an adult, however, he was home free. I'm sure Bruce would have given him a generous retirement package.

So, yeah, petty villain Alfred when?

At the same time tho I don't see alfred as being a good (as in interesting) villain someone else sent me an ask that I can't find but they said alfred gives off Jacob rees-mogg vibes which yeah evil alfred is just a member of the UK Conservative party which like currently good alfred is also apart of the Conservative party (tho do find people's arguments that he a Blair lib dem very convincing) so maybe evil alfred is actually a member of reform UK

[moeblob]

(throws them into a modern AU)

So since Ymber wouldn't be a deity there are some things he lacks physically - such as no pointed ears and no bright blue undertones to his hair. Just the basic blue. (does he dye it in a modern AU ? who knows) Also while he doesn't have a collar to symbolize his servitude to humans I still think he should have a choker.

I had some help a while back brainstorming how there would be some form of "superior" dynamic could still exist and I really liked the idea given that he's a famous architect. (he does design all constructs for his city as a deity so it checks out - he likes buildings) And Deacon just admires all the guy's works and never expects to run into him but of course they do! Gotta have a very awkward "oh it's you I'm going to melt into the earth" and "I have no idea who you are but we should hang out".

Sooo Deacon still just really admires Ymber and feels like they're on totally different levels and doesn't understand why Ymber would want to associate with him since he's just a "boring human".

[floating--goblin]

francis xie thank u so much for your service