#sorry :']]]
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Hello there 👉👈
I actually have an extra for previous art but tsss🤫
#i’m sorry#actually i’m not#couldn’t draw myself so drew Steve#I LOVE BUCKY#sorry#and Stucky#anyway#hope you’d like it#aca#fanart#art#digital art#digital aritst#captain america#steve rogers#bucky barnes#wakanda bucky#stucky
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more Deku bashing, if you'll forgive me
Seeing lots of shocked tweets and posts that Deku seems so cold and distant about Shigaraki dying in front of him; that Deku doesn't seem to care much at all; that Deku isn't devastated he wasn't able to save that little boy.
I have to point out that Deku never cared in the first place. He really didn't! It's why he needed to see The Crying Child to feel any bit of empathy for Shigaraki, and why ever since then, he only yammers on about saving the Crying Child and only the little boy. He never gave a shit about the Shigaraki in front of him. Never treated Shigaraki like someone real to engage with. That Shigaraki is unforgivable; and it was impossible to have ever bring the Crying Child into reality because the Crying Child was a memory, it happened 15 years in the past that cannot be changed, so all Deku can do is comfort the Crying Child then beat the shit out of Shigaraki.
I mean, just look at the imagery and the word choices:
Are those the words and expressions of someone who's trying to be careful about not hurting Shigaraki? Actually trying to help someone in pain? I remember when people were excited that Danger Sense would tell Shigaraki that Deku doesn't want to hurt him - turns out nah. He was so ready to make Shigaraki throw up blood.
Deku never tried to talk to Shigaraki. He never asked any questions during the whole time they were fighting. Mirio asked a question and got a response; but Deku? Nothing. Even in the memory-realm, when Shigaraki via memory-villains ask Deku what his plan was, Deku just shouted 'No!' and that was that.
When Deku said 'Somewhere inside of you is a person' he literally meant that. Inside of Shigaraki is the Crying Child, who is the actual person. Did he catch Shigaraki saying 'Spinner will be looking forward to this' and think, 'huh, Shigaraki has someone he cares about, I think? Then he wouldn't want to destroy Spinner, would he?' No. The fan-translation got everyone's hopes up that Deku wants to 'shred the rug' of societal failures, but the official translation was correct - Deku wanted to pry the lid off Shigaraki's trauma, accusing Shigaraki of repressing himself.
If he cared about Shigaraki at all, he would've protested when Gran told him he might have to kill Shigaraki. Instead:
He would've opposed the construction of something called a SKY COFFIN DEATH ARENA. He would've spoken up when Heroes talked strategy about how AFO is the better opponent to fight, implying that it's better if AFO had taken over Shigaraki, despite Shigaraki being the victim of AFO here.
Even when he ends up saving Tenko from Decaying the Shimuras, he's utterly lackluster there. Tenko's in tears, saying that he must have wanted to kill his family, he was born with a quirk like Decay, who could ever validate his existence the way he is??? And Deku's response? "Well. Holding my hand might make you feel better. So here." Saying something like, 'No, you're a child! It's not your fault!' or 'Your quirk isn't meant for harm, it can be useful too' or 'It's okay. You're not an evil existence' seems obvious, but Deku doesn't.
and really, all this has been obvious since the Mall Encounter in Chapter 69. Remember when Shigaraki point blank told him that All Might's smile is stupid because he acts like there's no one he can't save? And it's clearly full of resentment? And Deku picked up on this, which is why next chapter he asks All Might if it's true there are times where All Might couldn't save someone.
But once Tsukauchi said, don't worry about it, Deku did just that. When he does think about it one time, it's this absolutely nothing of a reflection
"I guess we just have to agree to disagree!" Come on. And this kid has a 'drive to save that eclipses all common understanding'??? for real?????
Deku has never given a crap about Shigaraki or Villains. Honestly, him wanting to save that sad little boy might as well be just Horikoshi putting lines in his mouth to move the story along.
If Deku really did care, I think he would've wanted to save the entire person that is Shigaraki. The Crying Child is a phantom - Shigaraki is real and solid and there. The Crying Child is innocent and easy to care about because it's a cute baby and it's openly weepy; saving hand-monster junji ito twink Shigaraki who laughs and talks about destroying everything Deku loves would've been an actual challenge. But clearly we couldn't have that because even the Crying Child was too far gone for Deku to save.
#character bashing#warning#nalslastworkingbraincell#again#i'll take it all back if next chapter proves me all wrong#sorry
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i love how george can brush off every insult thrown at him but the second he gets called dream’s brother he’ll shrivel up and get so offended
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Curt got called a good boy by Owen ONCE and it was so over for him
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— he must be sunshine and rain, because he makes me hot and wet 😏
#sorry#my edits#min yoongi#yoongi#suga#agust d#agustd#bts#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#kpop edits#kpop
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remeber if you ever want to get married underwater make sure theres siomeone to offishiate your wedding
#sorry#marine biology#marine biology shitpost#i have n exam soon and this is all i can think about#eddie in the ocean
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hang on everyone needs to look at this. no further context i just need you to see what i saw on a google search result
#i believe in the connection between lobsters and love...#shebbz shoutz#lobster#hawkeye pierce#sorry
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big, nasty simon who rolls his eyes at your suggestion of sending him letters (pre-made, perhaps, so that you don't have to worry about where to send it to) and denies denies denies them because he thinks the disappointment on your face is delicious. makes fun of the idea just to see the way you look so embarassed and silly for even thinking about it.
leaves without them, the thick stack collecting dust on your counter. overnight it seems they disappear, and you assume you just threw them out.
obviously he broke into your house to take all of em, even the ones hidden in a kitchen cabinet that you didn't get to finish and the ones in the trash you had planned to scrap. he loves seeing your hesitation in parts you crossed out like "dear simon" or the "please stay safe", could spend hours just looking at your hybrid handwriting trying to decipher what you meant by each word, what faces you made, when you wrote them.
man thinks it's so ridiculous and pathetic of you to do such a stupid thing like write letters when you could simply send a text, and especially so ridiculous to practically hand them to someone who you should know better than to trust or believe is a good man.
when he's alone, he runs his filthy, dirty fingers all over the wrinkled paper and practically smushes the paper against his face as he tries to inhale the scent of your perfume stamped on it (which he knows was intentional on your end). he's probably so nasty that he opens the letter and runs his warm big tongue along the part where it's sealed knowing you pressed your lips to it or licked it shut.
#sorry#but also i'm not sorry#big nasty simon who can't do anything like a normal person is a current hyperfixation of mine#he just has to make it weird and gross#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader
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IS. HE. BACK OR NOT DONT PLAY GAMES WITH ME
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It would be so awesome and cool if you drew orin and Seymour together 😁😁😁
Got a little too fixated on these doodles. Idc if im mischaracterizing seymour i need this to be toxic and one sided. (Kicks rock)
#anon you opened a can of worms#little shop of horrors#toxic yaoi to the farthest degree#sorry#choking#uhhhh orin is dying in the other one#orin scrivello#suicide joke#like im ngl seymour genuinely hates him lol#seymour krelborn
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Headcanon that Michael’s twink suit that ppl draw him in for Pizzeria Simulator is his father’s suit. Like he went through William’s closet and assembled the worst outfit he could. Genuinely where else would he have gotten that.
Imagine you’re Scraptrap, harassing your son. You see him, and he’s wearing your clothes??? Getting them all gross??? I would be furious!
#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#michael afton#william afton#scraptrap#fnaf pizzeria simulator#fnaf ps#FNaF 6#this post is not good enough to warrant that many tags#sorry
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HEY SFX QUESTION, DON'T REPORT JUST BLOCK PLZ
Guys I have no clue what all this white stuff is. I'm not sure what layer this is, I just started going over and over an old scab to try and get it to bleed (check previous post for some pretty blood art) and when I wiped it away, it was white. Ignore my gross af legs
#su1c1dal#slef harm#shit shit shit#sorry#baby cvts#tw depressing thoughts#s3lfharmm#tw s3lf harm#i want to cry#thigh cvts#i want to cvt#small cvts#cvtaddict#sh cvt#cvutting#cvtt!ng
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jorking it with the tumblr friends call that mutual masturbation
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Drumbot practice page GO
(yes I'm aware of the casing errors and spelling mistakes)
I LOVE MY DARLING GORGEOUS WIFE DRUMBOT BRIAN
#hes so special to me#did you know hes an honest man? he aint drumbot lyin...#sorry#there was no need for that#anywhizzle#be prepared i have SO MUCH mechs stuff to post#im just getting a few more angry faces and then i can draw a murder :3#the mechanisms#drumbot brian#my art#traditional art
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CW: Cannibalism (fantasized), blood, gagging (no vomiting), DARK
Thinking about a reader that struggles with love that’s all-encompassing.
Maybe you’ve been deprived of it and are fascinated by the concept—or the reverse, you’re spoiled rotten, no a foreign concept to you. Either way, you’re greedy. Looking upon human features with a sense of sonder isn’t enough. You need to touch them, crush them, own them. Squeeze the color out of their eyes and suck the melanocytes out of their skin.
A reader who knows that the average 250-pound hog will yield 150,000 calories’ worth of meat. A reader who knows this varies based on the pig. A reader who also knows that, essentially, humans are long pigs, similar enough to swap organs.
It’s natural to you that you’re drawn to men in the military. They’re the biggest, the baddest. The strongest—taking one down would be like a hominid versus a mammoth. The challenge excites you. And everything about them is documented well, from their muscle mass to their blood type. The government’s finest pigs, and you get to pick.
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SIMON “GHOST” RILEY
Your love for him makes you feel awful.
It’s unfortunate that you met him. He’s lived an animal existence already—knows what it’s like for greedy things to pick and pick. There are scars on his body and nicks in his ears. He pads around like some sad dog. Not aimlessly, but like he believes he should be somewhere worse. Like he’s grateful for the nothing he’s gotten.
You think the universe has a sick sense of humor. You wonder if he lived as a lamb once and was butchered. And then was brought back to be human and butchered again. And again. Mentally, then physically, metal hooks cozy in his ribs. You wonder if you’re just fate for him. Because of this, you remain delicate.
He’s quiet company. So are you. You appreciate it. It lets you mull over him. Your favorite part of him is his eyes, you think. Feline almond made sultry by the paint smeared across his lids. Pretty, two matching voids, both framed by eyelashes more luscious than your own. You like the contrast; golden hairs, black iris. His gaze is sharp. You can tell where he’s looking even if you can’t see his pupils.
That’s a part you’d miss if you decided to devour him: his alertness. It must be hell for him, but it’s a wonder for you. His eyes eternally flick, scan. There’s an intelligence they’d miss if they glazed over. If they unfocused forever.
Your growth is proportionate to his. At first, it’s silent lunches spent together–revelment in and acclimation to a new source of heat nearby. If he grunts, so do you. If he speaks, so do you. You wonder if he’ll tire of you, interpret your mimicry of him as mockery. He doesn’t. If anything, he appreciates the space. You’re inoffensive.
Seeing his petals open only makes you hungrier. He’s quite talkative with those he’s close to. He’s goofy, too–something easy to miss under his deadpan delivery. When he fucks with you, it makes you greedy. Saliva pools under your tongue. He’d be warm, you think. Fit for a stew. Something that steams as high as the tea you both shared in your silence. Hardy, spiced. You pretend to hate his dad jokes.
When you lunge at him, it’s because he let you touch him. That was an unspoken rule for months–you didn’t touch him. He hovered in your space, tantalizingly close, casting a shadow over you, but he was off-limits. Not until he gave you the okay.
It was while you sat beside him on his bed, watching him craft a new mask. Another period of silence. Those were rarer these days, but still happened. You were happy to listen to his breathing, to observe the dexterity of his long, weathered fingers. He had gotten tangibly better at stitching. They were less visible. Straighter; neater. You would joke about it, but you were too comfortable.
You leaned in too close. You could blame it on his weight tugging you in his direction like a gravitational pull. You could also blame it on your peace-softened limbs, bones boiled down to jelly. Either way, your arm brushed his. You could tell it did because he tensed the microsecond before he felt the fabric of your long-sleeve.
You were ready to apologize. Fully prepared for him to kick you out, to ban you from the one place he found safe. You couldn’t conceptualize your punishment. It was a rule you had never broken before, not even by accident.
Your mouth opened and he silenced you. The roundness of your eyes and the way you gathered your body was sorry enough.
“‘S fine.” He muttered, but he stopped sewing. The needle sat frozen between his fingers, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. You cleared your throat.
“Could I, then…?” You were greedy. You were pushing your luck. “Just your shoulder, I mean.”
“Said it’s fine.” He huffed.
Your touch was light, experimental. Like he was a fragile bird that you got to hold. He didn’t tense as much because he expected you. You promised the shoulder, but your hand moved lower. Away from the dip of his collarbone to the expanse of his bicep. It was thick–your fingers, spread as they were, couldn’t wrap around it. You trailed lower, lower, lower still, until it was his wrist you were threatening. His hand had moved away from his lap. It rested on the bed, available to you.
Down a hand, he bundles the needle in the mask and casts it aside. “Pettin’ me like I’m a dog.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted?” Your voice betrays the grin on your face.
You don’t even care to look up. You’re too engrossed in this. He runs hot, infernal against your fingertips. He’s pale enough for you to be able to trace his veins, so you do–trailing blue until you reach the leather of his palms.
“I hear that if you can see an ‘M’ on your palm, it means you’ll get married someday.”
“Yeah? You see one?”
“Yeah. And I feel sorry for the lass.”
He chuckles at that. It’s a low rumble, probably the closest he can get to a giggle. You like it. It makes you feel starved. With two of your own, you lift his limp hand. It’s heavy. Veins roll down his palms like lightning bolts.
You don’t know if you can handle this. His flesh is a temptation to you. He doesn’t understand that you want to score him and roast him over an open flame. You want him to be part of you forever. You think it’s beautiful, what male grasshoppers do to satisfy their mates. The idea of his body fueling your own is euphoric.
The attack is abrupt. You’re staring into the webbing between his fingers, then your teeth are in it. Specifically at his thumb where there’s a bit of extra skin. You clench your jaw as hard as you can muster, and to your surprise, he hisses. He’s human, but he didn’t strike you as one to show pain.
His blood trickles into your mouth. It isn’t much, as you didn’t clamp down on a hotspot. It’s thick and savory and rich to you. You groan and flex your jaw, chewing on him, urging more blood to eke out.
His hand tangles in your hair. It’s the roughest thing he’s ever done to you. The pain in your scalp is excruciating enough to loosen your jaw.
The noise you make when he forces you away from him is inhuman. Like a wounded animal, like a parasite detached from its host. Your eyes are misty. You’ve been caught. You don’t know how to explain that this is what love means to you. There’s no other method for you to cope. You want every piece of him that’s still intact.
“Please, S-”
“Easy, love.” He catches you before his name spills like his blood from your mouth. It’s gathered at the edge of your bottom lip. He didn’t bleed that much; it’s mixed with your spit. You’re drooling.
“I just need-” You grit your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. His wounded hand is moving. It cups and swallows the lower half of your face. His other hand remains in your hair, but it loosens.
This is a messy affair. He’s rubbing blood on you. His thumb, pad already slick with your spit, slides past your lips. He taps his nail against your teeth. The gates open. You allow him to slide his thumb over your tongue slowly. There’s a salty taste to him.
“Shoulda told me this ‘s what you needed.” He grunts. His thumb doesn’t stop moving, not even when your teeth pinch at him. This bite doesn’t seem to affect him. Either his fingers are less sensitive or you simply caught him off guard the last time. You gurgle.
He continues until his thumb hooks and a wave of nausea washes over you. You release his thumb, if not for a moment, and nearly choke on your spit.
“Careful.” He warns. “This better?”
In your valiant battle against vomiting, you push more saliva out of your mouth. It slips like molasses down to your chin. You try to bite again and manage. But when the pressure is too much, his massive thumb hooks again. This time, you do gag.
It’s torture. You can taste him, you can nip him, but you can’t gnaw on him. A tear rolls down your cheek.
“We can do this for as long as you like.” Simon purrs. He’s petting your hair, now, soothing you. You’re like a disobedient puppy to him.
You should be angry, but you honestly feel relieved. He knows how to handle you. He sees your sickness and treats you with the best medicine that he can think of. Your teeth grind—you feel thick skin shifting over bone. His tongue clicks.
He hooks his thumb.
#first time I’m posting my writing ouuhhh I’m gonna hurl#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#price gaz and soap are next#SORRY#dark cod fic#writings from space#nefarious activities#call of duty#ghost cod#simon riley x reader
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so fun getting to witness my friends’ reactions to dead boy detectives for the first time!! and finding out who their favorite characters are, what storyline is their favorite, what they want to see out of season two
and how we all have the same reaction when edwin confesses and charles sort of rejects him like charles babe we know what you are but take your time king
it just !! makes me so happy
#dead boy detectives#dead boy detective agency#charles rowland#edwin payne#crystal palace#niko sasaki#jenny the butcher#does she have a last name#if not she can take mine gladly#cat king#monty the crow#esther the sexy witch#sorry
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