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❛ You think that animals have a concept of holidays? I mean, like, do you think they celebrate their own lil’ holidays? ❜

#dravcn

@dravcn says: “ 𝚒’𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 … ” — — prompts for those with a reputation. : no longer accepting !!!

𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒. stephen tries to avoid the press, these days. he used to find himself in newspapers, in medical journals and magazines; falsified private details were occasionally laid out in tabloid columns. but that was when he was a surgeon: when he was ruled by arrogance. his job today is far more private; he is far more private. but he knows that the gaping maw of journalism is a hungry one. he was bound to get snapped up in its teeth at some point. the sorcerer slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. he is dressed not in his sorcerer’s garb, but in street clothes. his hands are sheathed in black wool. the cloak wanted to come along, so stephen transmuted it into a jacket. it has behaved well; it looks for all the world like any other ordinary jacket.

“really?” stephen says. “what do they say about me? anything good?” his brows raise. “or is it just mindless gossip?”

#➤ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: answered.#➤ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐤: interaction.#➤ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ( 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐢 ): post-endgame.#➤ 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐩: queue.#dravcn #hello there!!!#i hope this is okay <3

“ are you a ghost? are you a zombie? am i a zombie? “

into the spiderverse sentence starters | ACCEPTING

“Excuse you! Just because I’m pale as a sheet doesn’t mean I’m a ghost or a zombie. That’s clown stereotyping and we don’t do that here in Gotham!”

#*brat activates*#{thanks for sending one!}#ask #ic: croptop j #dravcn

@dravcn (sc)

The rattling of bullet shells hitting the floor is the closest thing Frank has to music. The sound of bullets turning a human being into swiss cheese dampens the noise.

Most of tonight’s targets have been small-game. No major links to any of New York’s heavy hitters, but they were still making entertainment based on the suffering of other people. Still making a living off of making other people hurt. They earned this fate. Amid the stench of iron and the bodies on the alley, Frank is ready to leave before he realizes that there’s still a living thing in this alley. Someone who hasn’t made a reaction during the entire fire fight. Frank loads another magazine. Frank has seen enough death in his lifetime to know what the presence of it feels like.

“Not yet corpses, still we rot.”

#There’s nobody praying for me ||FRANK CASTLE||#dravcn

“ it’s none of your business, ” she’s breathless, struggling to catch even the smallest breath as she speaks to the other. tara averts her gaze, eyes turned downward as she tried to calm her mind. avoid the pain. it was not working quite as well as she hoped. blood soaks her clothes, but tara would not have been able to pinpoint where it may have been coming from, or if it was hers. she leans against the wall beside her, refusing to look his direction. “ i’m fine.. - ”