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everyone drawing rumi buff as all fuck i am kissing you on the mouth. with tongue!!

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once again asking WHAT is all this then

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these are my personal favorite, most interesting demon performances in the entire show. the absolute unhinged commitment to these roles made them unforgettable

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When I worked at the sex shop we had this one customer. He was literally on the interview questions because we had to deal with him several times a week. He worked at the mall and we’d see him when we went in to go to the movies or grab lunch.

He’d always come in wearing a different wolf shirt. They’d be superimposed over the moon or running in packs. I think I only saw him in a non wolf shirt once when he came in wearing his work uniform, having apparently such a desperate need for more porn that he needed to come over on his lunch break.

We’d only get new shipments of DVDs once every other month, so the selection got pretty picked over. By him. Because he was the main purveyor of our movies.

We always ran a sale where when you bought two movies you’d get a third one for free. This man never, ever took the free movie. If there wasn’t one he liked right then he’d just buy two and leave. But then he’d come back later in the week and buy more, even though it was all the same stuff.

He'd wax eloquently to us about the deterioration of the porn industry and if you weren't careful you could be trapped for forty minutes or more listening to him go on about how repulsive fake boobs were. It's not that I disagreed, but I had other things I needed to be doing.

I transferred into that store from one further south. So I instead of answering all the typical interview questions the manager and I just had an informal chat. But I glanced down at the interview sheet she had printed and read, "What would you do if a man in a wolf moon shirt came up to you and asked your opinion on boob jobs?"

I laughed and when I looked back at her she slowly shook her head, no. That's not a joke. It took three days for that exact scenario to occur.

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hold me to absolutely nothing this post implies HOWEVER—

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decided to get silly and write an entire fic today, and post it immediately. no beta we die like [literally any SPN character].

So have a fic, I guess!

Pocket Full of Sunshine

Rating: M

Word count: 4,300

Pairing: Castiel/Dean

No major warnings, unless you count me dragging 15x20 out back and shooting it.

Summary: Now that Chuck is gone and Cas is back, they can finally just live their lives. Dean is still trying to figure out what that means for him and if he can trust Cas to stay this time. He’s also trying to figure out where Cas is getting the random assortment of objects he keeps pulling out of his sleeve. He always seems to have exactly what Dean needs. Or maybe the truth is that Cas is exactly what Dean needs.

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There’s a bit of a snag when Dean reaches into his pocket for the box of matches to finish the job and it’s not there.

“Ah, shit,” he says, and starts patting down all the various pockets on his jeans. “Where the fuck did my matches go?”

Cas starts checking Dean’s jacket pockets while Dean is checking his pants, patting down Dean’s chest and ribs without comment.

“Damn, I must have lost them when I fell out of the museum window,” Dean says. “I think there was a 7-11 about a quarter mile back up the road, would you mind flapping your wings and grabbing a lighter real quick?”

Cas sniffs. “There’s no need.”

He flicks his hand in a motion that Dean finds familiar, the same one that always produces his angel blade. But instead of the silvery-white gleam of his signature weapon, a little book of matches falls into his palm. He hands it off to Dean. It’s from a strip club in St. Louis, judging by the mirrored silhouettes of two curvaceous women and the address printed on it.

“Got something to tell me?” Dean chuckles.

“Yes. I agree you’re getting too old for digging up graves. Although I assume you were asking where I got the matches. I’m not going to tell you.”

Dean gapes at him. “What? Why?”

“Because the expression on your face is hilarious,” Cas says, and saunters off toward the car

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Read the rest on AO3

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Anita Ekberg's iconic dress in La Dolce Vita, designed by the Fontana sisters

La Dolce Vita (1960) — Federico Fellini

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Still his miniscule snotty annoying tiny baby brother even after all these years

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I want a fic where none of the JL believes that the batkids aren’t Batman’s biological children. There’s no way they can all be as creepy and broody and serious as him without being his offspring. It’s not possible.

And a select few being super adamant about it is how Batman finds out his kids are actually, in fact, his biological kids.

This leads to a full on, all out fight on the Watchtower. Every single batkid is shouting, arguing, yelling, screaming at Batman. Because it’s not true. It can’t be true. How the fuck did Batman not know this before the JL? Why are they finding out from a shitty presentation given by HAL JORDAN of all people?

It ends with Batman sprawled out in a chair, slumped so far down that his back is on the seat of the chair, his neck bent at a funny angle against the backrest, and he’s groaning.

“I regret being such a whore in my youth,” is all they can get out of him.

Tim, Jason, and Damian are all pretty easy to figure out how they’re his kids. He already knew about Damian of course, and Tim and Jason’s moms were both from Gotham it made sense.

It’s Dick who’s fully having a meltdown.

“WHEN DID YOU SLEEP WITH MY MOM? HOW DID YOU KNOW MY MOM? DID YOU MAKE HER CHEAT ON MY DAD? WHAT HAPPENED TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK?”

Bruce, whose head is spinning, vaguely remembers a very tipsy night he spent with a beautiful French acrobat. They’d both been 16, it was the summer. She said she was about to run away and join a different circus, she’d been perfecting her routines with the circus she was in with her parents, but they were stifling her creativity. This was her last night in Paris, and she wanted to spend it with the cute American boy who was there on vacation.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY MOM?”

“I bought her fancy champagne and clapped when she showed me how bendy she was,” he groans.

Dick has a visceral, disgusted reaction. He flings himself back, Jason has to hold him up so he doesn’t fall, and then he launches himself back at Bruce to damn near strangle him.

“DON’T TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!”

This is the worst day of Bruce’s life. Coincidentally, it’s the best day of Hal’s. He and Barry are eating popcorn.

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He needs more scenes!

Wanted to draw for #WeaveWeeks , but still only in the mood for colored pencil portraits. So uh. Only barely fitting the prompt: here's Lews Therin for "Age of Legends". He didn't turn those scrunched sad eyes at Ishy enough.

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i feel like the youth should be reminded that the point of shipping is not for a ship to become canon. the point of shipping is to collect all the canon crumbs like starved mice, run away cackling and make some fun little scenarios with them just for the hell of it.

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wokenatural

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Do you think Hardison and Parker ever goad Eliot into grabbing snacks and orange soda for them by reminding him he's the "retrieval specialist"?

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I've had this thought for a while

Am I mediocre? Like objectively

I feel like I'm missing something in my art, or just in what I make that can make it better, but still make it distinctly me

But at the same time, I wonder if there are other artists that people compare me to

Like a lot of anime artists get compared to one another, a lot of cartoonists get inspired by the same thing

Do I have that? Are there artists that I remind people of? Do I fit a category?

I'm genuinely curious