Perfection - Blog Posts

"Beating up the blorbo" is a fantastic way to describe this masterpiece lol. Absolutely go read it if you haven't yet, it's so well-thought out, a slow-burn of encompassing annihilation, and the writing style is captivating. This fic f'd me up in all the best ways

people following me for my art; i dont normally post that here (or draw turtles on the reg, might change though with all the positive attention) so to be in the know gooooo read canary continuity. you should read canary continuity! its 147k words deeeeeeeppp and its about to get to a really good part~~ >:3

id say read this if youre a donnie fan but i think "beating the blorbo up" would be an understatement for what i inflicted on that poor kid LMAOOOO. read this if youre a donnie fan and you love whump i guess (but heed the tags, seriously)

Just ✨perfect✨

Ghost sketch dump

I'm back with my Cliff x adult mc ideas, I just love this man so much. On the idea of mc also being a single parents, what if mc has either a newborn baby or a very young toddler, and after dating Cliff for a little while the baby's first word is 'dada' and directed at Cliff?

LOL I should really know better than to check tumblr while I'm working because it was a STRUGGLE not to stop and write all this, I love him so much, please keep the Cliff requests coming if you like this because I love it and him forever and ever amen

I couldn't do baby's first words, not with my idea of Cliff lol, but it's the same gist!!!

For years, Cliff had figured that he'd spend the rest of his life alone. Well, not alone, not truly -- he had Cove, and he was all he really needed. He had Kyra, who had become a dear friend, and he had Pam and Noelani who had always been there for him. But he'd always known that when his son grew up and moved out, he'd be, most of the time, alone.

Then he met you. And you proved him wrong.

He thought about that as he gently stroked your hair and listened to your breathing getting deeper as you fell solidly asleep, your head on his lap.

Looking back on it, Cliff couldn't figure out if he'd fallen in love with you slowly or if had happened all at once. There was an attraction the first time he met you, but it wasn't unusual at all for him to recognize that a person was attractive and then do absolutely nothing about it. But the deeper connection he felt, the overwhelming affection he had for you -- that was definitely unusual.

You'd met at his shop, over a year before. You'd just moved to the area, it was your first time living by the beach, and you'd wanted to appreciate it fully. He didn't learn all of this the first day, but you'd gotten out of a bad relationship and wanted a fresh start for you and your son, who was just about six months old at the time.

"I was thinking about taking scuba lessons, and I saw online that you offered them?" was what you'd told him that first day.

He'd smiled at you, a wide, friendly grin like he gave all his customers. He gave you the schedule of when the lessons were offered, and his smile faltered a bit when you frowned. You couldn't make any of these times, you'd explained.

"Here's the schedule for next month's lessons," Cliff had said quickly, pulling out another flyer. But those wouldn't work either. You could only take lessons on certain weekdays, and only during the mornings, you'd said. You had a baby who was in day care and you were trying to fit in a few hours for something you'd always wanted to do, but you could figure out something else.

There was the smallest hint of sadness in your voice, and it hit him hard. He remembered those early days when Cove was a baby, the sheer exhaustion, the desperation to do everything right and how hard it was to find the time to do something to take care of himself. It was hard then, and he'd had Kyra. You, it seemed then, and later on he learned, had nobody.

Before Cliff could even think about it, he said, "We could do a private lesson. What time works for you?"

"Oh no, that's all right," you'd said, shaking your head, "I couldn't --"

"My treat," he interrupted, cranking his smile back up to its full power. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and right then, he really, really wanted to be.

And he was, charming enough that you ended up agreeing to a free private lesson. Then you agreed to another. After that, you agreed to dinner.

He thought about all of it as he watched you sleep. How it took so long for you to come together, to conquer your respective fears and hang-ups and admit that you wanted to be with each other. How he wouldn't trade a moment of any of it for anything.

Cliff glanced at the clock, then back down to you. After taking a listen to the baby monitor that sat on your coffee table to make sure your son was fast asleep, he slid a hand down to your shoulder and gently shook you awake.

"Time to get in bed," he said quietly, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple.

Knowing how sleepy you must be if you'd passed out on his lap during movie night, he carefully slid out from under you and stood. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, despite your protests.

"You can go right back to sleep," he laughed lovingly, placing a steady arm around your waist. "But let's get you more comfortable first."

He grabbed the baby monitor then led you to your bedroom. A quick peek in your son's room showed him that the little boy was sleeping soundly on the new toddler bed he'd assembled last week for him. He smiled at the sight, placed another kiss on your head and continued down the hall.

When you were inside your room, nearly asleep on your feet, he softly shut the door behind him and started undressing you. He'd undressed you plenty of times with more impure thoughts in mind, and though he couldn't help but land little kisses on your skin as he uncovered it, this wasn't that. When you were down to your underwear, he grabbed your pajamas from a drawer and put them on you.

Cliff was so focused on the task that it surprised him when he you wrapped your arms around his shoulders when he was done. You pulled him in for a kiss, on the lips this time finally, and he readily accepted. He let you pull him in closer, and he kissed you harder. Every time you kissed like this, no matter how many times it had happened, he made sure to be completely in the moment, to appreciate how lucky he was. To take you in and savor every single second that you shared yourself with him like this.

He was slipping a hand under the bottom of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin when you pulled back to look at him.

"Stay?" was all you asked.

How could he say no to that?

He kissed you again, slower this time, happy to have the night to take his time. Before he could really get to work, he heard a little thump coming from the baby monitor.

You stopped kissing him and dropped your head against his chest, letting out a sigh. Your son had been having a hard time sleeping, which is why you'd been so tired. Before Cliff could offer any words of encouragement, the door flew open, and there was your little boy, wide awake and grinning.

"It's supposed to be bedtime," you told him as you scooped him up in your arms. He laughed and hugged you tight, his little fists bunching in your hair, and you smiled.

"I wanna play," he told you. You told him that you'd played all day and now it was time to sleep, and then the boy said something that nearly stopped Cliff's heart.

"Not with you, I wanna play with Daddy."

You froze, then Cliff saw your eyes dart to him. There was concern there, he saw, but before he could say anything else, your son twisted in your arms and started making little grabby hands at him.

"Wanna play with Daddy," he repeated, reaching for Cliff.

"I don't know where he heard that," Cliff heard you mutter -- or he thought that's what he heard, he couldn't be sure because he had burst into tears. The boy looked at him quizzically, then made a dive for him. Cliff caught him easily, and the tears came even faster when it was his turn to receive a hug.

"It's ok," he said, looking back at you. "I don't mind at all."

You started crying as well, which only made Cliff cry more. He reached his free arm over and pulled you into the hug. You buried your face into his chest, and he kissed your head. He'd never pass up an opportunity to kiss you.

After a moment, you pulled back and looked at your son and offered him a smile, telling him, "We'll talk about this in the morning, ok?"

"Don't wanna talk, I just wanna play."

You laughed, then gave Cliff a nod. Knowing what you meant, he hoisted the boy over his shoulder, bringing out a flood of giggles, and took him back to his own room.

For the next little while, Cliff put his all into playing. He lifted your son high in the air, then carefully tossed him down on the bed, earning more giggles. And when the toddler was finally tired out again, he watched you put him back into bed and pull his blankets over him.

Raising Cove was the best thing he'd ever done. It was the most rewarding experience of his life, watching his own son learn and grow and become a person he was so unbelievably proud of. When he'd met you, Cove was almost grown, and part of Cliff was sad that that chapter of his life was coming to an end.

But when he was like this here in your home, with you and your son, he thought he just might get lucky enough to do it all over again.

"I really don't know where he heard that," you told him when you were back in your bedroom. He took his clothes off while you got into bed, and after turning the light off, he joined you.

"I really don't mind," he said as you turned your back to him and scooted backwards up to his chest. Cliff was a big guy, and although it had been ages since he slept with anyone, it didn't take him long to remember how much he loved being the big spoon.

"I understand if you do, of course," he continued, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer against him. "But I don't want you to think it's going to scare me away."'

"It's not?" you asked, so quiet he nearly missed it.

"Nothing would," he said truthfully. He heard your breath hitch as he moved his hand under your shirt again, placing his large hand flat against your bare stomach. He brought a kiss to your shoulder, thinking in passing about how he could never, not for the rest of his life, take being able to hold you like this for granted.

It would have to be a conversation, Cliff knew that. Your son couldn't just slip into calling him "daddy" without one -- he knew at this point that he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, that he would be honored to be your son's dad one day, but his own life experiences had taught him to be careful. He knew now to go slow and take all the right steps when it really mattered.

But for now, as he felt your breath slow down again under his touch and with the soft sounds of your son's light snores through the baby monitor, he could let himself appreciate this feeling of bliss.

Link and Zelda- judging you from afar

Yes. Just yes.

Are you feeling sad??

WELL I HAVE JUST WHAT YOU NEED!!!! Pure unedited screenshots of turtles!

I have large turtles!! (For comfort)

Small turtles! (To squeeze)

Happy turtles! (For cheer)

Sad turtles! (To share in our collective misery)

And so

So

So so so

Many meme turtles!

We’ve also got…

Cowboys! People…

And sometimes….!

Hippos? So dear viewers, strap right in for your favorite thing, turtle images!!!

(This is you rn)

Thank you for sticking with us through this ad segment. Onto our regularly scheduled programming.

Mr. & Mrs. Babcock.

It's done! After so many days of procrastinating this piece, I finally finished it!!

This is my redesign of the Institute of Perfection. I found the movie version to be very bland and boring, so I took some inspirations from some of the concept arts, and made my own design. I have it to where Perfection is actual in the toy factory, protected by this glass dome. A very glamorous city where Pretties can eat, train, and shop for accessories. There's also some advertisements of "Perfection" and "You can be better" to encourage the Pretties to be better than ever. Underneath Perfection is a workshop where Imperfect dolls are forced to work on crafting accessories. I'll make a drawing of what it looks like once I'm done with my re-design of Lou, the Pretties, and the Imperfect dolls.

Daisuke's one got me weak omfg 🫦🫦🫦

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 request. the crew's reactions to walking in on reader touching themselves.

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. potential second hand embarrassment, reader is gender neutral (no genitalia specified), getting caught, masturbation, semi-public masturbation.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Masterlist ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎Part Two: walking in on them

By all accounts, Curly is a respectable captain. He respects boundaries and doesn't cross the line. He's the captain, after all. Not having locks on the door is a safety issue, he knows. Just as he knows to knock. It just wasn't on his mind; he needed your help with something and you're technically available.

So he breezes right in, words on his lips and - there you are.

Holy shit, there you are. In all your lewd glory. "Oh." Then, oh. "Sorry, I'm just-" and he doesn't even finish the sentence because he backtracks and shuts the door behind him.

The thing is, that image haunts him, later. Wriggling like an infestation inside his skull. When he sees you, he acts every bit the proper superior, doesn't bat an eye. Internally, he sees flashes of skin, the way you moaned and sighed.

It leaves a lasting impression in his mind and he's so painfully aware of it. Aware of it in more ways than one because he knows nothing can come of this. It's awkward enough walking in on someone, awkward even more when everytime he knocks on your door afterwards, he's praying that you'll be nude and waiting for him.

Late at night, he remembers it, stroking himself and pressing his face into a pillow as his hips jerk, spilling himself over his fingers, wishing that it was your hands on him.

Sometimes, he wishes you'd walk in on him too.

Even Jimmy knows better than to poke through doors, especially when everybody is awake. He's never felt the need to, not with the open door policy and frankly, until this, he's only noticed you in passing.

Nimble as ever, he opens your door, irritated over something that one of the crew members had done the other day. Sometimes, he just liked to vent and rage about the injustice. You're easy to talk to, but he's never really sought you out for anything else before.

The door shuts behind him and he just stands there, previous irritation set to the backburner. Because there you are, uniform discarded and showing off your form, hand between your thighs as you nursed your arousal.

Above all else, Jimmy is a certified voyeur. He likes to watch and admire, drilling inside his head about the way your hand moves, the curve of your spine. Each individual sound. But even Jimmy has his limits.

When you're close or have already come, he slides up behind you, hot breath at your neck, thick hands skimming over your waist, to your thighs, only to settle on top of yours. "As much as I enjoy the view, pet, I'm going to take it from here." And he makes damn good no his promise.

He makes a mental note that to visit your room far more often.

Anya really just needed an answer to a quick question, relating to your latest check in to the medbay (or your duties). She knocks on the door, too softly to be heard over the sound of your activities.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to even realize what was going on. All she sees is your huddled form. First comes the concern, her hand reaching out for your shoulder, "Are you oka-"

And you let out such a noisy sigh that she freezes. She's gotten laid before and suddenly it hits her like a truck just what she walked into because she knows what those sounds mean. Furiously backpedalling, her hand raises to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Quietly, she excuses herself from your quarters, ears a little red and hands shaking.

For a long, awkward time afterward, she can't even meet your eyes, even going as far as delegating the psych eval to Curly.

If you ever get injured, she performs it as meticulously as she can, her eyes tracing over every ounce of your body, trying to forget the way you moved.

Frankly, at one point, one of you would have to address what happened. But she's more than eager to ride this bumpy path until then, even if it strains your relationship with her.

Everytime she sees you that familiar, yawning ache simmers in her gut.

As much as she tried to deny it, what she walked in on affected her.

When the tension becomes too much, she finds herself sitting on her leg, grinding herself against her calf, biting the inside of her cheek as she imagines you there.

As stupid as it is, she might have maybe done it in your presence, hands trembling as she tries to keep a conversation going, desk separating you two. Other times, when it becomes unbearable, she rubs her thighs together or slides her calves against the leg of her chair, praying to god that you don't see her. (But half of her hoping that you will.)

He's been looking for you for the better part of half an hour; usually, he finds you in obscure places or with his intern, so the last place he thought to look was in your bedroom. Really, that should have been his first guess. You two were supposed to talk about something and it's been on his mind like a nagging hornet.

Sure, walking into another's room is technically frowned upon, but with all the mishaps of Daisuke barging into people's rooms (much to the disgruntlement of, well, everyone) that for a split second he didn't even consider it.

He just opens the door and - okay, so you're doing that. No wonder you were absent, so engrossed in self pleasure that you didn't even hear him stepping in.

Swansea feels too old for this, seeing your twisted figure, your cries of pleasure. So he just turns around and shuts the door, leaving you to it.

He tucks himself back into a latest project and perusing Daisuke's homework, busying himself until you're finished and in public. Not that he planned to publicly confront you about it, but because he knew everybody needed a little time alone. As small as the Tulpar was, he knew any time and space should be well spent. Even if he silently questioned your methods.

But he does bring it up. He doesn't let it slide (not like how your hands slid between your thighs and-).

Despite whatever personality conflicts you two had, he had eyes and all working parts, thank you very much. He also had needs.

Once the original topic was out of the way, he crossed his arms, expression serious when he says, "Now, it's all my doin' for bargin' in like that, but I saw something of you that I shouldn't have." He'd elaborate if he had to, "If alone time is what you're after, we've got socks for that. Toss it on your door handle and be done with it; I ain't gonna let nobody disturb ya during it."

As awkward as that conversation was, he's handled it before. He has grown kids, after all. But you're not his kid, and you're certainly grown - he's seen that. Noticed it off-hand a few times before too.

He sighs, leaning back, letting you decide when he adds, "But if release is what you're after, I know a thing or two, and I can help you with that."

All but acting like a lost puppy, Daisuke often turned to you for help in locating his missing items. Batteries, dust pan, his gameboy cartridge. (Swansea was so mad the last time he lost the screwdriver and thanked you profusely with your help locating it.) So popping in for a quick minute into your bedroom to ask for your help in locating his soap was a mindless task.

He pops in, door banging, energetic words on his lips. His brain all but sputters when your eyes connect, nude form on the bed, sprawled out, light sheen of sweat on your body, looking like a tribute straight from the gods.

Despite your hasty attempt to cover and a spew of apologies from Daisuke's lips, he can't take his eyes off you. It's like he can't even blink, so absorbed in your image that half of what he's saying doesn't make sense.

You'd have to forcibly remove him because he is rooted to his spot, unable to vacate of his own free will. He'll be banging on your door, pleading to be let back in, to talk it over. He's not sure what he wants to say - more apologies? Explain why he's there? He wants to offer help so badly.

If he's not pushed out at all, his brain ceases to function. Despite being a handsome lad, and being twenty, he's hardly been with anyone. Sure, he knows exactly what you're up to - he's done it himself plenty of times-- but all those words die in his mouth.

"Soap, I swear I'm just looking for soap," he explains, trying to rush into an explanation, the only coherent thing he can say.

He'll eventually manage to sputter, "I was going to go shower, but nowIwannaknowifyouwanttojoinme" is strewn in with "ohmygodpleaseletmehelpyou".

He's all jittery, achingly hard in his pants, wanting to touch and hear you make those sounds again. Daisuke feels like he'll go insane if he doesn't. Hands fidgeting, his fingers curl in, unconsciously taking a few steps in. He'll finally manage a coherent, "Please let me stay."

Managed to finish one more piece of animation before the new year! Part ?/??? of my Super Sons anim project, based on Superman #10 by Peter Tomasi and Patrick Gleason.

To anyone who's read the comic: why yes this DID get away from me when storyboarding, but I was having so much fun.

EVERYONE SHUT UP AND WATCH GASLIGHT DISTRICT

"I've met a lot of men, but it's all about seeing you."

I... Kinda got bored and doodled Cell

Sorry not sorry he's cute (and I like drawing my version with four arms, makes him more bug-like)

Rewatched Alice in Wonderland recently and decided that every fandom is required to have some sort of Alice in Wonderland Au. So, here’s the Linked Universe Alice in Wonderland Au that no one asked for!

I kinda changed and played with some of the ideas, so that things could make a little more sense for the characters, especially for Sky; but hopefully who they’re supposed to represent shines through!

for anyone that’s having a bad day, here are pictures of animals sniffing flowers

My wife and I have a little game we play called "Speaking From Ignorance."

To play Speaking From Ignorance, all you need is a phone with a voice recorder, and another person who knows considerably more or considerably less about a topic than you do. The topic can be anything: from "how to bake a quiche" to "what happens in the Peter Jackson Hobbit movies" to "who is Florence Pugh" to "how does the traveling salesman problem work." All that matters is that one of you has a firm grasp on the material, and one of you absolutely the fuck does not.

Then the person who knows about the topic turns on the recorder, and says to the person who knows barely anything: "Hey - tell me everything you think you know about [X]."

The speaker is then not allowed to ask any questions. Nor is the expert allowed to volunteer any information. The expert is allowed to pipe up with a faintly incredulous "Oh--really? Do you--do you think so?" from time to time, but for the most part, the expert's job is just to sit there and make encouraging sounds while the speaker digs their own grave.

This is never not funny.

The reason you record it is because, very often, the first thing the speaker wants to do after finishing the recording is find out how you actually make a quiche, or whatever. Then you both get to go back and listen to how wrong they were.

We have a small library now of Speaking From Ignorance recordings, and I'm going to be listening to them until I'm eighty.

others: “so, how ~southern~ are you?”

me: “The entrance of my hometown has a shrimp boat sitting in the main street. At Christmas theres a shrimper Santa and alligators pulling him instead of reindeer.”

others: “what?!”

me:

The Meowmorphosis

Via Michi Posting: Out of Context Public group on Facebook - 575.4K members

This is just too perfect. :)

Also.

Heather & I discovered that this cannot be denied.

John’s compassion.

Sherlock’s brains.

after the night at the byer’s, billy and steve both sport the same bruises.

and it doesn’t make sense.

steve’s sure he didn’t get that many hits in, and even then, it wasn’t hard enough to give billy a shiner like his.

and the worst part is, he feels bad.

“Hey, man,” He starts, cornering billy after a particularly difficult basketball practice. billy was awful. he kept his shirt on, too, which was weird. steve was benched completely; he can barely see out of one eye, and the other is still swollen shut.

billy’s panting from practice, hunched over as if it hurts to breathe. facing his locker and not replying to steve.

“um,” steve continues. “i…feel bad about what happened this weekend. i was just looking out for the kids, y’know, and i didn’t mean to hit you that h-“

billy turns around, snarling. looking like a battered, cornered wild dog.

“oh fuck right off, harrington,” he spits, and shoulders his way out.

“dude,” steve says, curling his lip. “i’m trying to apologize to you, asshole.”

“i don’t need your apology,” billy replies, and it hurts a little.

“well maybe if you hadn’t been a racist asshole i wouldn’t have had to hit you in the first plac-“

billy seems even angrier.

“i am not a fucking racist, harrington,” he snarls, but it lacks the horror his voice used to hold because of the wounds on his face.

steve grimaces. “yeah, totally, you just attacked lucas because he happened to be the closest.”

billy looks around the locker room as if someone is watching him. nervous.

“it’s not because of that,” he mutters, chewing on his swollen bottom lip.

“then why?” steve presses. “because if i recall, he didn’t do a damn thing to you, billy.”

billy swallows and refuses to make eye contact.

“it’s my fucking dad, harrington. he finds out max is messing around with a black kid and all three of us get a shiner worse than mine. i couldn’t care less about what those little shits are doing, but he does.”

steve’s face softens.

“so you’re…taking the punches for max?”

“that’s a stupid way to put it.”

“i…” steve gapes. “why don’t you go to hopper or something? he could put your dad in j-“

“because, harrington, i’ve got nowhere to go and no one gives a shit anyway if a dad beats his son as discipline. but i can’t let him put a hand on max. she doesn’t deserve it. even if she’s a fucking bitch.”

billy shakes his head like he’s said something awful.

“now you know. congratulations, harrington. i spent all this time stealing your crown and now you know that i’m just a pussy whose dad beats him. have fun spreading that one around.”

billy turns to leave and steve catches him by the arm.

“i’m not going to tell anyone,” he says, and billy scoffs.

“i promise. i’m not like that anymore. like you said…turned bitch.”

billy laughs.

“so, what? you look at me like i’m a kicked puppy every time i come to school with my teeth knocked in? because i’d rather you spread rumors about me instead.”

steve shakes his head.

“i wont do that either. promise. i just…i dunno. can i help in any way?”

billy shrugs him off.

“do what you do, i guess. protect those little shits. i’m not as good with kids as you are, mama bird.”

steve flushed at that and grimaces.

“please do not ever call me that again.”

and they laugh. and it feels nice.

“hey, uh, are you doing anything this friday?” steve asks, and it feels natural.

“probably looking after max. parents like to go out a lot and leave me with her.”

“well, why don’t you and her come with me and we can catch a movie maybe? she can bring lucas and you two can patch things up?”

“are you asking me on a date, harrington?”

steve’s face gets even redder.

“no, i just meant-like y’know, it would be nice, and i could, um-“

“it’s cool. i’ll come by friday. 5:00? you get lucas, i’ll bring max.”

steve nods. “um, yeah. that sounds good.”

billy smiles softly. “good. and don’t pick some girly movie. max and i like slashers.”

“right. got it.”

“see ya, steve.”

billy nudges him before jogging off, undoubtably late to pick up max.

and steve is frozen. what started as an apology for his own moral compass turned into a date. steve’s going on a date? with a boy? no, it was just a joke. maybe. probably.

he hopes it wasn’t, though.

Omg, even with bandaid he is PERFECT!

Someone is drunk... A bit. And that is not me xDD

He is so cute <3  x

ah, so true so true.

PERFECTION!!!!!!

(15 Sep 2020)

attention everyone

this is what a russian 404 page looks like

Haven’t drawn myself in a while lol

Bothering the beast

tbh thats how i see the bad guys squad and ink just exists for some unknown reason