#the world is not ready yet

[hystrangea]

wanna draw so bad but ive been cursed with sadness and hurt/comfort falling from my fingertips and onto blue screen

[cythaeria]

For the strilonde girlies out there

If anyone is curious, roxy and rose are depicted as trans women and dirk as a trans man!

[moondirti]

working at a hardware store, you're too familiar with the odd customer. couples who come in with specifications so detailed, you can only imagine they're for kink purposes; women old enough to be knocked out by the fumes of the paint they purchase, looking to remodel after their husbands passing; men on the verge of a mid-life crises, more devoted to their lawns than they are their families. and though it takes a couple hours of dedicated customer service to get them out the door, satisfied with their purchase, that comes with the job that sees you paid. so it's not so bad. generally fine.

a one and done sort of thing.

(of course, that's because none of them hold a candle to this freak.)

cargo net, nylon cordage, duct tape, disinfectant. all that's missing is a shovel, and the police wouldn't fault you for calling this purchase in.

"moving?" you ask, tongue lashing against your best interests in face of the oppressive presence across the counter. a monster of a man, almost too big to fit through the store. thick arms and neck, a healthy serving of fat over every muscle, filling the space of his shirt beyond what it was sewn to handle. the camo balaclava is both ridiculous and an essential component to the intimidation he strikes in you, framing a set of eyes that squint at your remark.

(jesus, you didn't think people like him existed in real life.)

he looks like he's about to bite back, but decides against it.

"hunting." he says, then nudges the objects towards you like he has somewhere urgent to be at 10 pm. but okay, fine, you can take a hint. you scan the suspicious list of things and tally up his total.

"uh, 85 quid. thanks."

"bloody extortionate." the man mutters, stacking his purchases upon one, curled arm, before throwing a pink note your way.

nonplussed, you don't notice the offence immediately. the matter of payment is instead superseded by his offhand exit, his shoulder shoving open the door, head bowing to shrug out. and you watch as he walks across the parking lot, long strides taking him there in three steps, and watch as he slips around the brick perimeter. only then does your stomach settle.

but at that point, it's far too late.

50 pounds stare smugly up at you.

that asshole underpaid you.

by the grace of the gods (your manager), your shift ends soon after. it's a wonder you manage to get to your car at all, migraine splitting your skull in two. though it should be doing something to alleviate the pain, all your body wants to focus on is the lightened bulk of your wallet, now missing 35 quid after paying the difference out of pocket.

you take the time once you're seated to smash a fist repeatedly onto your steering wheel.

"fucking fuck! cock sucking bastard, son of a bitch!"

the screaming, though cathartic, drills your sorrows further into your head. you're temporarily blinded when your head slams back onto the headrest, phosphenes overwhelming your vision. little stars, ropes, knives and dots dancing over the windscreen.

it's a miracle you're able to discern the eyes in your rearview mirror as real.

"well, which is it?" the brute from earlier derides. his hand comes over your jaw, big enough to trap the whole lower half of your face in his grip. tucks his pinky under your chin, too, the makeshift muzzle keeping you from biting. it's all you can do to breath — long, filtered gulps of air, the space between his fingers smelling of salt. something sticky smears onto your nose. "am i a bastard, or the son of a bitch?"

not a one and done thing, then.

[ditzybat]

steph: emo fuck

jason: i am not emo

steph: you have daddy issues, two toned hair, wear copious amounts of leather, and i heard you belting a horrible rendition of a trophy fathers trophy son yesterday - just accept your fate

jason: … man my singing is beautiful youre just trippin

[typenonsense]

hey. hey. is anyone else thinking about how this is the first time skizz gets to properly mourn a teammate. is anyone else thinking about the fact that this is the first grave he can lay flowers at, the first eulogy he spoke.

[nikoisme]

Odysseus x penelope propaganda

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Cruel and Unusual Punishments (the PSA episode).

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[scoriarose]

Baby that is not an enrichment activity

Baby... Baby no you... Child...

I know you like to play with crinkly things but...

Aaaand into the messenger bag she goes.

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[itsdefinitely]

I wanna teach your version of boy Jerry modern slang and let him try to use it /pos. ily how you draw him sm

his ass does not know what skibidi toilet is

[vinestaff]

OKAY OKAY OKAY

[swan2swan]

This line is one of my Absolute Favorites from this show, because it really digs right into the new world that the kids are in:

They're not kids anymore.

There's a furious man threatening harm to Bumpy and her friends, and Sammy puts herself square in the middle of the argument, turns on the charm and promises that she'll make it up to him...and when he doesn't acquiesce, she immediately turns Stern. She bluntly tells him to go home. As an adult talking to another adult.

She has her own property. Her own life. Her own world. She has authority now. The days where they're kids hiding from robots or businessmen or sneaking away from big game hunters and mercenaries are over. Sammy has land, she has responsibilities, and she's not backing down from them. Sammy Gutierrez is an adult woman, and she's going to act like one.

[radaverse]

When the angsty ahh aus meet

+ smol comfort bestie swap

[seasicksilver]

makin it stanky 🐠 🐟 🐡

[meowfountain]

some things idk

[wandixx]

I'm having stupid thoughts on technique of coloring it, so have this fan art before I most likely destroy it