#rates plans

[ideas-ideasideasideas]

Headcanon that instead of signing his threats Red Hood uses semicolons liberally (and correctly) because nobody up to their eyeballs in crime in his part of Gotham uses semicolons. ‘Don’t even try to run; I know all of your hideouts’ is a Certified Red Hood Threat. ‘I’m always watching; every minute every second’ is someone impersonating Red Hood.

[winchester101]

I want to see Luffy kill a man for insulting Sanji’s cooking

[reading-comp-posting]

You have inspired me to start making reading comprehension questions for a server’s political memes channel. Do you have any tips to make good questions, or pitfalls to avoid?

I did want to answer this ask but I waited a bit until I had more actual posts queued before doing so

When I'm doing my gimmick, the first question I ask myself is, "taken completely literally at face value, what is this post saying?" Then, I ask, "what does this post actually mean?" or, alternatively, "what was the reason that this post was made?"

Of course that is not necessarily the best way to do it or the only valid way, it's just the easiest way for me to start breaking a post apart.

I also try to lead a hypothetical person who is reading my questions to try and think about things in a way that would help them understand the post. For instance, on the nsfw snow post I tried to direct my hypothetical answerer into understanding that the one image that was removed was probably due to copyright issues with the photographer as opposed to some algorithm gone awry that thought the snow was porn, which can be verified by checking the notes of the post.

[daily-odile]

if it has not been suggested already and you are okay with drawing it-- maybe Odile teaching Bonnie how to make onigiri??

the duo ever!!

[luna-lovegreat]

Yo

For you,

Art from Jojo @linkeduniverse au :)

[monsterhugger]

[houseofborgia]

THE BORGIA BROTHERS + putting the family's interest above their sister's concerns

"Everything I do is for the family."

[artbyblastweave]

A few months ago I saw a mod that converted Preston Garvey into an intelligent super mutant. On the one hand, I think that's actually a really really interesting thing to have Preston Garvey be, right, because that would position the last minuteman standing, the die-hard-idealist-to-the-end, as A.) the default quintessential boogeyman of everyone he's dedicated his life to protecting in a way that textures that dedication in an interesting way, B.) very directly a victim of the Institute in a way that would bring the Minutemen victory ending full circle, and C.) The first Super Mutant the player would encounter, when playing as a character who has no other context for Super Mutants. All of which would be very interesting things to play with. On the other hand I strongly doubt that any of that was really the project here, given the context of the broader (unjustified) Preston Garvey Hate train.

[ystrike1]

My silent secret yandere readlist blog suddenly feels very public.

[thetangycheesemanwithaplan]

My walls are made of my heart (would you still break them gently?)

Two separate buildings, connected by a paper thin wall, brings two people together in an unexpected way. Buck and Tommy are complete strangers, but they're about to get to know each other in ways they couldn't even begin to imagine. There may be a wall between them but the walls around their hearts are about to crumble.

Chapter Moodboards

Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4

[trans-zag]

small moronoe doodle for the soul and Alt Blog cause whilst i want to draw them properly i also have so many things i need to work on

[horse-head-farms]

i’ve decided to change up my style a bit! expect a little inconsistency over the next few art posts

@hermitrarepairevent gay people for you

[sesamenom]

two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree

[Day 5]

[mbirnsings-71]

so like Guy Gardner am I right?

Kyle Magical girl can be found here because this is part of a series of me drawing GLs as Magical girls which if you want more of that kind of content someone else had this idea that I only found after my Kyle Magical girl drawing so like you can go find that here! and you guys really should check it out cause it's really good!!

Transparent version of Guy under the cut

[thekidsarentalright]

waiting for an acceptance letter from a college i 100% know i got into is so annoying like. girl dont play hard to get just tell me yes so i can stop passively planning the rest of my year and actually get a move on w it -_-

[startanewdream]

trace, for @jilymicro-oops (I should have posted this yesterday AND it should have been fewer words, so double oops). Titanic AU. Rated M for 'draw me like one of your french girls' mention. 1697 words.

She finds him in the third class deck, sitting by one of the benches that face the ocean, his face all wrinkled not because of the sun rising right in front of him, but because he seems concentrated. For a moment, Lily just watches his profile, all the details she noticed the night before but only now she can fully absorb: his dark hair, sticking out at the back of his neck and messy in the strong cold wind; his tanned skin, glistening under the sun; the muscles of his arm, visible through his white cotton shirt; the shape of his full brown lips, spotting dimples at the corner as if he has just thought about something amusing; and the power of his hazel eyes, framed by his glasses, now favouring more green spots than brown, as he turns his face to find her admiring at him.

No, not admiring, that would be improper.

Lily is just… curious. This stranger who saved her life the day before sparked curiosity, the first thing that Lily remembers feeling in a long time.

“Mr. Potter,” she says, nodding her head in a small bow, for once as gracefully courteous as her sister always tells her to be — except Petunia would never approve of her current company, but that’s a thought that Lily pushes to a forgotten corner of her mind.

“It’s James,” he corrects her, and then he bows as well, a smirk on his lips that displays his dimples. “Miss Evans.”

“Lily,” she says at once; someway, properness seems dispensable near him. 

“Lily,” repeats James slowly. She likes the sound of her name on his voice, which seems as dangerous as the ocean below them — that’s also a thought that she pushes away, though not for a place that she will forget easily. “Should you be here?”

A fair question, but James doesn’t sound accusing nor does he seem unfavorable to her presence. Perhaps he is just as curious about her as she feels about him.

“Probably not,” she admits. “But I’ve been known for doing things I shouldn’t.”

His gaze sweeps upon her for a moment and Lily is suddenly aware of how well-tailored her dress is, embroidered with tiny gold pieces; her skin seems too ivory, too soft compared to his — she remembers very well how calloused and strong his hands had felt the night before when he was holding her.

But James doesn’t look repelled. “I don’t think anyone could force you to do anything,” he says. 

Her heart skips a beat; everyone always seemed to look through her, seeing what they wanted her to be, not who she truly was. 

That’s not a feeling she has with James. Not after what he did last night — and that's the reason she sought him that morning, in the first place.

“Thank you,” she whispers, sitting next to him. His eyes widen. “For… yesterday. For saving me.”

“That was nothing,” he answers, a carefree smile on his lips. “You wouldn’t have jumped.” As Lily opens her mouth to discuss this, James shakes his head. “You wouldn’t—I told you, no one could force you to do anything.”

“Still. I might have slipped, though, so I am still thankful.”

He snorts, eyes shining for a moment. Lily likes it: there are wrinkles at the corner of his eyes now that tell her he laughs a lot. Is this the reason she feels so attracted to him?

But attraction is a dangerous thought, one that borders to close to things that Lily shouldn't be feeling — she’s already taking a large risk by seeking him in person, even though it could be reasonably explained as a show of gratitude —, so she finds herself lowering her gaze to the notebook on his lap.

“Wow.”

She’d thought he had been staring at the ocean, but now she realises that James had been watching a group of kids in the lower deck, playing with a ball; the drawing seems too vivid, as if she is reliving the moment rather than seeing a reproduction of the scene in chalk. There’s movement in the children’s faces, their silent laughs echoing through the doodle.

“This is amazing,” she says, lifting her eyes to find James strangely abashed for the first time since she has met him. His hand grabs his hair.

“It’s just a pastime. I am not a professional artist or anything.”

She extends her hand. “May I?”

He hesitates for a moment, but when his eyes meet hers, James offers her the notebook.

“I think you lied to me, Mr. Potter,” she says as she turns the page carefully, admiring each scene he drew—they all have the power to drag her inside as if she can be with whatever inspired him. “These are professional.”

He chuckles. “It’s not if I’m not being paid.”

“Well, but you are an artist. I had never seen anything like—oh.”

She pauses for a moment, fighting her sudden instinct of closing the notebook. It’s just a drawing, don’t be silly, she tells herself. A drawing of a naked woman, sure, but you have seen other paintings—naked female bodies were a common theme, loved by artists, so there was nothing improper in it, and still—

It was the way James drew that woman—as if he could capture the details that made the painting alive, not exactly perfect, but a body so real that she could almost touch it. The softness of the skin; the muscles and the fat layer of the body; every strand of hair; the secrets in her smile and the openess of her eyes; the curves of the woman. 

“I am sorry,” James said, pulling her away from the drawing. “You shouldn’t have seen this—”

“This is art,” Lily says, grateful that her voice sounds calm.

“Still—”

“You are an artist,” she repeats. “So whatever inspires you—” And then a thought crosses her mind, something unpleasant. “Who is she?”

“Just a friend.”

“Hum.” She tries pursing her lips but finds herself asking anyway. “And is your friend aboard the ship?”

His eyebrows raise, pupils widening as he understands what she is asking. “No, no, she is in France—I mean, she is French, so I think she is in France, I don’t really—this is just a drawing, we were never—I’m not paid, but I am very professional when it comes to drawing, except—”

“Except?”

He flushes, carefully avoiding her gaze now.

“I should go,” he says, standing up. “Find my friends. And you—you should go back.”

“Ah, yes, but—” She isn’t sure of what to say, but finding words seems unnecessary. As James rushes to grab his briefcase, he drops it open; with the wind, a piece of paper flies away, and Lily catches it easily, only to find her own face staring back.

It could be a mirror, only she is not sure she has ever seen her reflection standing so strong, so fierce. James captured all the details that Lily fears she has given up showing to the world a long time ago — no one was ever interested in her curiosity, in her spark, in her desire to face the world. Snape wanted the perfect bride, Petunia wanted her to save their family income, and Lily had hidden herself so well in a seashell form of herself that she had almost thrown herself into the sea the night before, only James had seen her.

Almost as she could see him now, could picture him all focused, his eyes watching her profile carefully from afar as he perfected his drawing.

“When did you paint this?”

He takes a moment to answer her. “Yesterday morning. I saw you in the deck and I—I’m sorry if you didn’t like it, I just—”

“Liked it? James, I am in awe. It looks as if you could trace me. Not just draw, as if you were outlining every detail, and this is—nobody has ever looked at me the way you do.”

“Perhaps they should be paying more attention then,” he whispers, and there is a light in his hazel eyes that draws her in. You are beautiful, he seems to say, and Lily feels so, for all the right reasons.

Her heart jumps inside her chest; she has never been this alive. “Maybe I could pose for you someday—hire your services.”

“I wouldn’t take any money—”

“It would be very professional,” she assures, standing up to join him by the rail. “Like it was with your French friend.”

“Then—oh.” His eyes move over her face as if he is trying to figure a difficult puzzle. “So you—ah—”

Lily blinks, suddenly aware of what she just proposed—she hadn’t considered the particularities of that drawing, and she is just about to tell him that, maybe brush it off with an embarrassed laugh, only…

Only she imagines herself walking into her room and finding James there, sitting patiently with his notebook and holding the chalk carefully as he waits for her; she lets her night robe fall on the floor, hears his breath cutting short, and walks naked to the bed, laying over the pillows and then lifting her gaze to meet James’ eyes.

He would be looking at her. Not through her. 

The sound of the ship’s horn makes her jump.

“I should go,” she says weakly. Her face is burning; it’s not because of the morning sun, she knows. James nods, though he doesn’t move and neither does she. Lily forces herself to breathe. “Maybe we could meet this afternoon? I would like to know more about my saviour.”

This sounds innocent; it doesn’t add any meaning, though Lily can feel the tension in the air, can feel the goosebumps on her skin at the idea of James seeing her bare—drawing every curve, rejoicing in the intimacy of being so close to her—

“It would be my pleasure,” he whispers, and Lily wonders if he was picturing the same images.

But that’s a dangerous thought, one that she should only entertain in the depths of her heart — especially considering James is invited to join her sister and her fiance for dinner tonight—, so she forces herself to bow slightly at him and turn away.