#my brain: kys

[mulderscully]

#4. How your hands look when you play piano.

[tahopo]

such a dangerous thing to start getting very reinvested in origins again this close to datv.

[kreachvera]

worlds WORST milf

(design on right by @medicalunprofessional -w-)

[lautakwah]

[ID: a tweet by Who_amI @/Max_NotMe, reading "I hate that he's Blackbeard, cause I love the character, but I cannot STAND Taika. He's a self centered person, that only talks about his roots when it's convenient. He's a jerk." /END ID]

being white is a fucking disease man how can you see a major celebrity be callous and dismissive about palestinian suffering bc he/his people dont get the same recognition and ur immediate thought is about the quirky tv show about gay slave owners

[jascurka]

Most if not all people feel like this sometimes and we all do all kinds of embarrassing things without thinking first. So what if we just shrugged it off collectively, don't you think we would all be fine?

[frankensteinposm0]

am I failing as a Stan Marsh fan if I can't draw 7 drawings for his birthday because of fucking school

[horatiocomehome]

Decided my new catch phrase will be "become as dust on the wind" and I will use it whenever I am frustrated at things to sound like both a fantasy wizard and a massive nerd. I think life needs more fantasy-style curses instead of just telling people to kill themselves, y'know?

[joybeantown]

Kyle and sink

Drawings from call yesterday

[lelsiemeyers]

wouldn't it be fun if instead of the young avengers being a team of superheros post avengers break up the young avengers were a band post avengers break up. like. band aus and shit

[gio-goose]

I remember thinking up some angsty shite for Sin and Ky where the eyeball starts to seriously affect Ky's health, causing damage to the surrounding areas, and they have to get it removed, but doing so risks severely hurting any doctor who does do it. And Sin has a solution to this.

He'll eat it.

You could then focus on the more visceral, physical aspects of an eyeball, the sounds it makes as it exits the socket, the feeling of it sliding down the throat, the burn of magical potency once the eyeball bursts in the stomach.

Ahhh I wanted to draw it but urggrhrh comics are hard HSHSHS im sorry I will have to leave this unfinished 😔😔 but thanks for giving my brain more illness MJSBSHKB

I have some thoughts about this but like they might just be incomprehensible garbage lmao maybe i will talk about it (most likely not HSHSHSH)

[medicalunprofessional]

thinking abt crow still

edit- man i kinda fucked up his face heres a slightly fixed and isolated version lol ..

i still kinda hate it but i drew it while i was sick so whatever

[silverware-is-interesting]

Remember that time I mentioned that I needed to draw something other than Sgt Splosion?? (plus Guardener, my sona, and my ocs)

varying quality doodles of mostly sgt splosion

[takamikeiigos]

You and Hawks on a covert stealth mission together, since both your quirks complement each others almost too well. You feel it. He feels it. It's impossible to ignore-

Then things get dicey; some low level grunts making the rounds and walking around the corner. Hawks reacts instantly, as if he's operating on autopilot- grabbing you by the elbow and pushing you into the closest closet he can find

But his wings are so big and the closet is so small... of course he has no choice but to press you up against the wall. For a brief moment, Hawks is shielding you from any form of harm, while caging you in at the same time

Your first instinct is to bristle up in embarrassment; he's just too. Fucking. Close. But the moment you open your mouth to ask him 'What the hell are you doing!?' he's covering your mouth with one of those gloved palms. He brings his free hand up to his own lips and whispers a hushed 'shhh' as the two grunts meander drunkenly past the closet

Even when they're gone, Hawks' shoulders don't loosen up; he's got a new problem now... he kinda likes the feeling of pushing your body up against a wall, even if it was a little cramped in there

imagine: me, poking my head around the corner, foaming at the mouth

THIS. IS. MY. SHIT.

teaming up with hawks works so well for both of you. his speed compliments your strength, something he's admitted lacking. but together you make a strong team, knocking out missions thoroughly and quickly. the hspc had no choice but to teak you two up, nobody works together as wee as you two.

if only they knew about the cloying sexual tension that you and hawks are much too stubborn to act on.

you're both bickering with each other over stupid shit, hawks arguing that chicken is the best food ever, hands down (while you have other preferences), when both stop dead in your tracks.

you've been sent to scope out a building before a raid, lurking in the shadows, undetected to the enemy, when you both hear drunken laughter and a pair of unsteady footsteps approaching.

"are these people for real?" you can't help but whisper, and just as you go to poke your head around the corner, hawks grabs you by the waist and drags you backward.

the fucker drags you into a dark, cramped supply closet to hide when you easily could've taken down whatever drunk idiots that were meandering around outside.

the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and your skin prickles with annoyance. he's so close - chest pressed firmly against yours, and his wings, which occupy at least 80% of the space, are tucked around you like a shield while he tilts his head to listen through the door, oblivious to your discomfort.

and just as you're about to pitch a fit, reaching up and grab him by the shoulder, he throws a gloved hand over your lips and stares at you. there's a gleam of light coming through a crack in the door and it reflects off of his eyes, his amber irises much more terrifying in the dark than they are in daylight.

he brings a finger to his lips, motioning for you to stay quiet.

the two idiots outside linger, hooting and hollering in the hallway, just a few feet away from the door, and with each passing second your irritation boils. not so much with the fact that they're out there, but the fact that hawks has you pressed up against the wall of the closet, the hard line of his chest pressed so firmly to yours, and his thigh pushing into the space between your legs.

he rustles slightly, and the friction between your thighs causes you to hiss. he turns his attention away from the door once more and peers at you in question, annoyed that you keep making noise, only to look down and see the problem for himself.

the cheeky bastard just looks back up at you with a smirk.

-

a few weeks later, you're teamed up again, this time fighting some assholes who are having a little too much fun setting explosions off in the downtown area.

you've managed to subdue one of the villains while hawks flies overhead, preoccupied with evacuating a damaged apartment building.

you tune into your comms as you slap a set of handcuffs over the villain's wrists, unheeding to the absolute hissy-fit the assailant is throwing below you.

"let me know when you get that building cleared. first guy is about to get shipped off, the other one's hiding out somewhere nearby,"

the comm crackles before hawks' voice comes through, much too chipper for your liking this early in the morning.

"maybe your imposing demeanor scared him off. you aren't exactly a morning person, chickadee," he teases, and you swear you can see the playful smirk he's sporting.

you yank the villain to his feet and push him forward toward the swat team that's on standby, once again ignoring his protests.

"not everyone has the energy to spew sunshine and rainbows out of their assholes at 8 o'clock in the morning, hawks."

he laughs brightly over the comms, "yeah, yeah. almost done, here."

you ditch the first villain with the swat team and turn around, heading back in the direction you came from, when a line of consecutive explosions rapidly go off to your right, heading straight for you. you brace yourself for the worst, but suddenly you're flying through the air before colliding with a wall and landing on the ground.

the impact knocks the wind out of you and you cough, caught in a daze as smoke hazes around you. and when you blink through the confusion you realize there's a weight on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

hawks is crouched above you, leaning in low, with his wings spread out in what you guess is either a protective or predatorial stance. he leans back just enough to get a good look at you, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"we've gotta stop meeting like this," he muses; entertained.

you shove at his shoulder and he laughs. "you say that, hawks, but i'm beginning to think you like pinning me up against things."

-

a month later you aren't actually teamed up on a mission, but attending a ceremony for newly recruited heroes. you stick by each other's sides, set to be a prime example of how hero-duos are supposed to work together - basically eye-candy for the commission to gain clout.

you will admit, you've had a few drinks to take the edge off, and hawks had resorted to being your babysitter this time around.

the speeches are over with and it's social hour, the new recruits making their rounds with their agencies; seasoned pro-heros glad to finally have a moment of free time on their hands.

you finish your glass of champagne and sigh, staring off into the crowd.

"don't get me wrong, i like working with you. but why do we have to be bait for the commission's schemes?" you mutter, tugging at the shoulder of your tailored dress.

hawks reaches forward and takes your empty glass, setting it down on the table you're standing next to.

"probably because we look good together," he inclines, brushing your hand from your shoulder and adjusting the strap of your dress for you. he smooths the fabric down beneath his fingers and moves to adjust the other strap, doing the same until it lays even against your skin.

you cast your gaze to the side, avoiding him, as your cheeks flush.

"not our fault we're good looking.." you mumble.

you've definitely piqued his curiosity, and damn you for letting the alcohol talk.

"you think i'm good looking, huh?" he taunts, leaning in to catch your gaze. you roll your eyes and shove at his shoulder.

"i mean, you've pinned me up against so many surfaces that i've gotten a close enough look. i don't think my eyes would deceive me, hawks."

he laughs. "i'm glad it finally paid off, then. shall we show them what two, deliciously good looking people are capable of on the dancefloor?"

"watch it. you're biting off more than you can chew, pretty bird."

[bunnihearted]

i thiiiink my problem is that i want toxic things buuuut in a healthy way.... like yes i want to be clinginess but both respecting when we get overwhelmed. i want lowkey stalking eo and having eo's locations and i want collars and marks and blood vials, but also respect and understanding when it gets too much for the moment and u need a little space. and i want co-dependency and doing almost everything together all the time and for eachother, but also respect when and if we need to just be alone for a moment. i want all of that but not in an abusive way, and all of that is sadly very closely intertwined with abuse.... so.. sad lyfe :(

[boxwinebaddie]

i am so sorry about this, but for iconic and comedic purposes, and because i think it is my only chance...i think because put jk in all the clean, sleek, minimalistic dark academia fits ( and made him the fkn scariest top dom motherfucker alive >.> ) and put rm!stan as raven in all the thotty gothy hot topic rockstar boy looks ( ilu tiny pants ) ...

i think it's only fair that...

my bitchy, ginger, picky snobby ricky bobby ken doll son, AKA, red hot tire siren, toxic orange pit viper and mean green newjay devil -- who wears more comme de garcons/moshino than prada, imo -- espn celebpretty sh(it) boy, twitter's favorite #cred#head, /my/ precious daytona 500 winning pookie ( dirtbag ) and the #supreme tmz trashed-and-slated nastyboy of nascar racing, the one, the only...

Kyle 'Break Check!' Broflovski <3

should get to wear all the dramatic af, xxxtreme sportyspice, ubergay nightmarish perish hilton, twinky talladega nights, white #trashion, vodka&redheadbull, apple bottom jeans boots w the fur club fits <3

( also just for shits and gigs, pls note: toolshed stan is a super casual, fashionably challenged but unbothered old carhartt beanie, oversized flannel n beat up work boot wearin king...so i'm laaugghingsdk )

like...i am sorry, but this is the right answer:

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is