#A BIG HUG PLEASE

[sabu123098]

Headcanon that Ridoc, Sawyer and Rhiannon did not want Violet to go with Xaden or Mira at the end of Iron Flame because they were scared that like the last time they send her away with Xaden, Liam died and this time it could be her.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.

[cecoeur]

Saw the gifs but needed to post the video for the caption. A little coffee! Playing with kids!! BIG HUG GUY!!!

[tubbytarchia]

I want to eat your art. Now. Gimme some nice big dog martyn and jimmy. Now.

P.S. IM NOT FORCING! PLS DO T THINK IM FORCING AHHHHHHHH *PANIC HUG*

The human anatomy really really sucks in this. I just gave up sorry dont look at it for too long

(Jimmy portrayed as Eurasier, a breed that requires lots of love and affection and gets easily depressed when holed up in one space, and is a relative of a dog bred specifically to give people warmth. Martyn is a Jack Russell Terrier, a breed that is often stubborn, mischievous and difficult to train)

[sysig]

Good skeles, like you lots (Patreon)

[cuttyflammm]

some random (mostly ford) sketches I’ve done when sleep has evaded me :>

[basil-does-arttt]

so we all know how Bury The Light as a theme song represents Vergil and subsequently his story and themes within DMC 5??

Well obviously that means Subhuman is the same for Dante. So i did some thinking (wow big surprise there shocking i know)

The TLDR of this is my conclusion that Dante is reckless and overconfident because of his half-devil nature and as a result disregards his life and safety. Also, that Dante has mixed feelings about his demon side.

Specifically what got me to this thought was the line we all know if you've listened to subhuman:

"You cannot kill me, i am subhuman."

And,

I mean come on, the message couldn't have been written any clearer here. Because he's part demon, because he's - as Dante puts it, assumably the writing of this song is from his POV much like i assume Bury the Light is from Vergil's POV - sub-human, he believes he cant die. That whatever is thrown at him, no matter what or how dangerous the situation is, he naively believes he will come out the other end unscathed.

And to be honest, he kinda has reason to believe that thus far. If being stabbed at least 5 times throughout your life and brushing each one off as if it were a mere scratch wasn't enough to convince him, defeating so many different great demonic beasts including Mundus himself definitely would. I mean, who wouldnt? Whatever hell throws at Dante, surely cant be any worse than the actual fucking demon king or his own brother post-DMC 5. In a sense, he believes he is immortal.

But that way of thinking is shallow, its naive and leaves him open to danger because it makes him cocky. He thinks he's untouchable, and that way of thinking could get him seriously hurt or worse if he isnt careful. (As we see in the beginning of DMC 5 actually. He thinks "eh, ive fought worse, how bad could this actually be?" That "Its only Vergil, and ive fought him before." Only to have his shit kicked in and end up in a coma for a month. Imagine if that happened with a different demon that wasn't so merciful as to keep him alive for all that time, who would've jumped at the opportunity to rip him to shreds in an instant.)

I also want to go into how the song reflects Dante's (poor) mental health and his thoughts on being a half-demon.

Its kinda hard to catch unless you really think about it but the song is clearly negative in tone when it comes to describing Dante's own devil form. "As i call upon the dark gift to erupt" is one line that sticks out to me and i think is the best example of this. I also believe from the song that Dante views his DT as a seperate entity from himself; "I feel the devil in me, we're coming right for you".

"Funny how the mind tries to sink me deeper, as the evil tries to turn me around." The evil could be in reference to other demons, yes, but it also could be referencing his own "demon"; "i must not forget that i have bled, from no respect to the demons in my head". Wether that line means he's gotten himself hurt because of his own recklessness or self-harm i cant tell, and i wont assume one or the other specifically.

Throughout the song too, the lines "i cannot erupt, i must control, i cannot erupt, i must explode" to me also seems like Dante struggles with control of his DT, and is scared of losing himself when triggered. The whole tone of the song seems like a rampage of sorts too, its very aggresive and almost violent. "Something save me, put me out of my destiny, and drop me safely in this hell"; yet at the same time as his fears toward his own DT, it feels natural to him, this kind of "bloodlust" he feels in his triggered form is something he doesnt want but he knows he cant keep from happening entirely, so as a result the most comfortable place for him is in danger. He can let loose and he doesnt have to worry when all he's killing is demons. One last thing, "i see right past me, the eyes are flashing" to me sounds like Dante becomes almost dissociated when triggered, he's not really present in his mind and body and is acting on pure instinct alone.

All in all, Subhuman (like i said earlier) at first just sounded like an epic battle theme for Dante, but when i really listen to it, it becomes much sadder. Of course all of this could just be me bullshitting so id love to hear other's takes on this.

i also wanna analyze Bury the Light too. So i might do that later.

[demaparbat-hp]

How does that first encounter go down between them in your Spitfire AU? I imagine some real conflicting emotions on all sides!

I would love to hear you ramble!! ❤️

*cracks knuckles* Alright, let's do this.

As far as the world is concerned, Lu Ten II doesn't exist and the Royal Bloodline ends with Princess Azula. The little kid that follows Prince Zuko everywhere? That's Ten Ten, an orphaned stowaway his Crew found and adopted for some weird reason no-one ever questions—the kid is just that lovable.

(It helps, honestly, that Lu Ten II is a carbon-copy of poor, forgotten Ursa. No one would ever think to connect him with Fire Lord Ozai, long may he reign.)

Little Ten Ten loves to run off when the Crew is on shore leave. He gets into trouble sometimes, but only because of his chronic inability to look away from people who need help (it makes Zuzu both so proud and so shouty-because-he's-worried. It's fun until it isn't).

By now the Crew knows not to panic when the kid goes missing for a couple of hours in a harbor town—which is why no one noticed Ten Ten's disappearance until it was too late.

"Could someone please explain to me," what starts as a mutter becomes a shout as anxiety takes over Sokka, "why on earth did we go into town to buy necessary, highly specific supplies, and returned—not only with a stolen waterbending scroll—stolen! From pirates, Katara!—but with a Fire Nation-looking KID?!"

While Ten Ten is having the time of his life goofing with Aang, out-sassing why-is-this-happening-to-me Sokka, and melting Katara's heart—Zuko is losing his mind, sanity, and temper because how on Agni's name do you lose a Prince of your nation?

But, sir, he's like three-feet-tall—

HOW, JEE?!

Needless to say, the pirates kidnap the pretty waterbending thief and her kid with the sharp tongue and fancy-looking clothes. Which turns out to be a Bad Idea™ because, well, a skinny guy from the watertribes and his way-too-young-to-be-bald companion? They can absolutely deal with them.

A Crew's worth of murderous Fire Nation soldiers lead by the unforgiving, terrifying, bloodthirsty Prince?

They are not ready for that.

[absoluteditto]

Lucanis Dellamorte is such an enigma. After a year of torture at the hands of Zara Renata, and upon learning of his grandmother's death, he says he needs to work. It is easier to bury your head in the sand and hide from the fact that you feel as though you've failed everyone who ever depended on you. And yet, as soon as he is out of the atmosphere created by such heavy grief, he begins to open up.

He has always cared far too deeply. His compassion is what angered Zara enough to act against him. Rather than stick to the contract against Ambrose Forfex, he insisted that the elves he tortured deserved justice. Retribution. He makes sure that the orchestrator of all of that misery pays for his crimes in the most painful way possible.

When Lucanis gets to the Lighthouse and realizes that his new compatriots aren't eating nearly well enough to fuel their bodies for the fights to come, he takes the initiative and begins preparing meals, alongside Bellara, who he finds refreshingly honest and surprisingly compassionate.

He buys mint for Harding to help with her dreams. He knows what it is like to be haunted by nightmares so frightening that you wake up screaming. He buys Bellara some fish for a Dalish recipe that she wants to cook. He knows how much food can connect you to your home, and help heal your heart when you feel so alone in the world. He buys fruit for Neve as she hardly eats anything more than fried fish. Except I feel that this one goes deeper. He sees so much of himself in her. She is what he could be if he opened up a bit more, perhaps if he offers something sweet it will build a bridge that allows him to come out of his shell more, to learn how to love and be loved simply for being who he is.

And, if you wait until you recruit the rest of the companions, he gets something for them as well. He gets a bone for Assan to chew on. Caterina would never let him have a pet as a child, and though he tries to act nonchalant about it, having an animal that is always so enthusiastic to be pet fills him with no small amount of joy. Of course he would want to spoil the good boy! For Taash he gets spices. They've learned so much about themselves since joining the Veilguard, and growing up multicultural introduced them to many foods. The easiest way for him to share his culture is through his cooking. And for dear Emmrich, he picks up wine glasses. Lucanis is a man who has enjoyed the fine things in life since birth, but he is far too trained in reading people to believe the same of Emmrich. The Professor enjoys the fine things in life because he worked hard to achieve them, and he respects that. So he brings a bit of his home's finery to the Lighthouse for Emmrich to enjoy. -= This next bit is about my Crow Rook & the wyvern tooth dagger =-

And once he's finally done with his shopping and ready to get back to work, Rook, the woman who broke into his prison and freed him, treated him like he was simply a man even when he felt like a monster, bought him something. A dagger. He is suddenly drawn back to many years ago, attempting to gift a dagger to the other young Crow who he was infatuated with, only to have it seen as a threat. Upon wrestling his thoughts back, he realizes it's a wyvern tooth dagger.

He meets her gaze, and she has a knowing smirk on her face. He feels a warmth in his chest as he admits that he was quite fascinated with wyverns as a child (he still is, but she doesn't need to know that) and that Caterina had never allowed him to have a dagger like this. Her smirk turns into a content smile as they head towards Café Pietra, and he begins talking to her about the different types of wyverns that you can find all across Thedas.

She doesn't interrupt him once, simply asks questions about particular habits, and inquires if his fascination with Wyverns also translates to an interest in dragons.

[soaps-mohawk]

i am gonna be like 100%, I don't see Simon liking being cuddled by anyone but Johnny and eventually omega. Having a hand or foot casually touching him? Sure. But laying on his chest, curling up in his side or back? Absolutely not. That's for his man and his lil lady.

Oh absolutely. He might do a little post coitus snuggle when it comes to Price and Kyle, but like laying on the couch or cuddling all night in bed?? That's reserved for Johnny and (eventually) the reader. If Kyle fell asleep and his head drooped onto Simon's shoulder after a long day, or on their way home from an assignment, sure. He'll let him stay there. But full on dick to ass spooning?? That's reserved for Johnny only. Being spooned?? That's the reader's job. She's the only one allowed to go full jetpack with him.

[shxnigxmi]

❤︎︎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 ❤︎︎ [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

ఌ synopsis: you eagerly await the return of your husband, and he can’t wait to be in your arms once again

ఌ content warnings: foul language, anxiety, domestic fluff, ghost is literally whipped—

ఌ author’s note: why is physical affection so hard? like someone hold me in their arms and keep me safe but like do it without actually touching me cause i fucking hate that fucking shit /:(

—

Beat down and bone-tired. Ghost was exhausted.

Simon was exhausted. And he let out a tired huff as he slid the key into the lock of his front door before he twisted it with a click. Repeated the same process with the handle before he was twisting it and trudging inside, dropping his heavy duffel on the ground as he slid out of his sneakers. Black Nikes he traded in for his combat boots back at base.

“Lovey,” he called out into the apartment as he kicked his shoes off. When he didn’t get an answer his immediate response was to tighten up with panic. Muscles taut against the profound ache of weariness that weighed down heavily on his bones.

At least he would have, but there was no need for such a reaction. Because he could see the door to your art room slightly ajar, the soft golden light coming from the lamp you kept on the desk in the corner bathing the hallway in it’s pale glow. And he could hear you humming, your voice soft as angels and melodic as a siren bewitching him to come closer as your taut chords strung the sound together beautifully. He smiled.

Inhaling a breath that felt like it had cleansed his lungs is when he noticed the scent of pumpkin spice, and he tilted his head at the small glow in the corner of the living room. A candle, the flame small as the scented candle was no more than three inches tall. The rightfully themed orange wax sat in a small glass container. Tiny and withheld there on the table by the bookcase.

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the small flickering before, or why the scent had evaded him until just now. Perhaps he really was tired. Or maybe it was because he heard you, and the fact that he was aware you were present in this home you shared with him made him feel more at peace. Softer and less tightly wound, less of Ghost and more of Simon the longer he stood there before the shut and locked front door.

Yes, the candle added it’s aroma to the homely vibe his apartment was bathed in. But it was you that made it feel truly like home, it was you that made it feel safe and comfortable. Here with you he could be Simon, he could be human.. just a man yearning for love and affection. Wanting to be taken care of and held tenderly.

Out there in the real world, the world that’s full of vile and hateful shadows that prowl in the darkness waiting for an innocent victim is where he needed to be Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. Cold, hard, calculated and cruel.

Here with you… he could just be Simon. Your loving and devoted husband.

So he smiled minutely, a gentle thing tugging the corners of his lips up minutely to put a soft look on his face. Happy. He paced to the art room, the first door on the left at the mouth of the hallway, before he peered inside through the wide gape you had left the door with.

And the warmth in his chest bubbled at the sight of you, sat in that stool with one leg tucked up and laid down on the flat of the stool. Your other leg bent at the knee as you used it to rest your elbow so your paintbrush strokes could be more fine. Simon smiled at the way you looked so domestic, a large shirt —no doubt one of his— draping your figure. Large sweatpants that bunched up around your ankles and have been rolled at the waistline. And a pair of crew socks. Your hair was pushed out of your face with an elastic headband. And it was then in that moment when he had brought his eyes back up to your face that he noticed the headphones.

He was perfectly happy just watching you as you worked in your element, the way you guided the paintbrush across the canvas was mesmerizing. Perfect strokes as you moved your hand in an arch to curve the colorful line you’d just created.

It wasn’t until you were painting the left side of the canvas did you notice the figure out of the corner of your eye. You felt a brief sense of electrified panic and fear of an intruder as you quickly flicked your head to the doorway— and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just Simon.

Humming you went back to it, switching out the wide brush for a fine point one and using the fibers to scoop up a dollop of green before.. wait—

You froze, then looked back to the doorway. And sure enough he was still stood there, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a playful glint in his eye and smug smile on his lips. Bare to you at the expense of his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose. Simon!

“Simon!” You squealed, clambering off the stool and setting the paint pallet there alongside your headphones before you were spinning and leaping into your husband’s strong and loving arms.

He chuckled deeply at your enthusiasm, then reached down to grab your thighs before he was hoisting you up to encourage you to wrap your legs around his wide waist. And you did so with little more prompting.

“I missed you doll,” he murmured into your hair and you laughed wetly as you snuggled your face closer into his neck. Warm and bare to you, vulnerable to loving pecks as you welcomed your hubby home.

“I missed you too Si. So much.” You pulled back from his embrace of just enough to cup his face and pull his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and you gently held his face as he pressed his lips firmly back against yours.

No matter how many times you and he shared saliva it felt like the first kiss every single time. That first kiss that you can recall happening on your porch, the porch just out the front door he had just come through.

It was the first date, after you two had met in a bar downtown you’d hit it off rather quick. And he offered a nice and quiet walk alongside the large pond in the city’s square. The pond that had a beautiful fountain in the middle, and as you walked with him slowly but surely you had gotten to know a bit more about him.

What with his black balaclava and the fierce and brooding aura about him, it had been a shock he’d asked you to join him outside. He had seemed prickly and more of lone wolf type of guy when you’d seen him across the bar all those nights ago. And you were surprised when you’d both ended up at the bar together.

He wasn’t. Because he had noticed you too, and he had been trying to scrounge up some courage to approach you. Eventually, his teammates had pushed him to stand and go order another drink when they saw that you had returned to the bar.

And the rest has all led up today, to that electrified kiss. A kiss that you felt all the way in your toes, like fireworks erupting in your chest and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That’s the affect Simon had on you, the “so helplessly and utterly in love” affect that made you feel warm and happy anywhere near him. He was perfect.

And you’re so glad he’d put a ring on your finger, so glad you had bought a ring of your own to ask him. And so glad to have been happily married to him for three years already. Because Simon was comfort and Simon was home.. and you loved and adored him more than anything.

“What’re ya workin’ on?” He questioned as he set you back on your feet, pressing one final kiss to your lips before you were turning away from him to face the canvas. The project that was almost finished.

“Just some big piece for a company in New York. Payed a shitload for it too,” you explained as you moved to the desk in the room. Messy with files upon files stacked on top of each others, papers strewn about and the mahogany wood littered with pieces of garbage. Candies, discarded coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans.. it was a disaster.

But you found the paycheck right where you had left it, laid atop the manilla folder in the corner. You plucked it from it’s perch before moving back to Simon and handing it to him. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes behind the set of double digits at the beginning.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of frazzled because they paid a lot.. and I know they’ll like it I’m just not sure I’ll be able to finish the whole thing in time.” You spoke, suddenly ready to burst like a water spout and rant to him. You knew that he would listen intently and you knew he would do whatever he could to fix the problem or offer any advice he thought would be helpful. But you were tired, you’d been staring at the damn canvas all day. And whilst you had a cohesive idea in mind the client had said to make it abstract. So you’d just been letting your brush guide your hand and went to your heart’s content.

But now? Right now all the colors were blurring together, and not in the way an abstract is supposed to. Not in the way you’d seen it in your head. And it was making you frustrated, anxiety aligning unwell with your unease and anger made everything so much worse.

When you had finally found somewhat of a groove again is when Simon had come home. But even still.. it didn’t quite feel right. You dreaded the thought of maybe having to start a new one tomorrow, but you didn’t want to give your client something you weren’t proud of. Especially since they’d paid so much and especially since they expected so much from you since your profoundly successful gallery last month.

So when you had seen Simon all worries had flown right out the window, and the ire wound tightly in your chest had dissipated. He’d worked out the unruly twitch in your brow with his mere presence alone and you melted into his hold when you had squealed and jumped him.

But now that you had once again found the canvas as your main point of attention— the feelings returned. And you grimaced angrily at it. As if your twisted scowl would somehow fix the painting and your problem.

Simon recognized the look in your eye, and he knew you would continue to glare at your painting until you either got new inspiration or burnt yourself out trying to create something that was satisfying to your expectations. So he turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks.

“Let’s get to bed yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a fresher perspective on this tomorrow.” He gently urged, and you sighed softly as you reached your hands up to hold his wrists. You nodded your agreement.

And he took your hand in his to guide you into the shared bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, your nightly routine began. And he helped you with your skincare routine as you gently pulled off his mask and wiped clean the black eye grease that painted his face. Once clean with a cleansing wipe you began his skincare routine, built and patented by you.

And he closed his eyes and exhaled softly at the way your hands and fingers felt on his face. The intimate domestic feeling behind the action made his heart warm and his stomach flutter. You had made him a skincare routine, loved him enough to care about what he’s putting on his face. And it felt amazing to be sharing a nightly routine with you again.

Once you both rinsed your faces clean and patted them dry, you brushed your teeth before waltzing back into the bedroom to the closet on the other side. And you both changed into cleaner clothes. A pair of boxer briefs and a clean shirt from Simon’s side of the closet for you. He opted to go shirtless and donned sweatpants that hung low and accentuated his abs and v-line. You couldn’t help but stare and Simon grinned as he caught you looking at him from where you lay on the bed.

“See something you like?”

“Oh you know I like you very much Honey.”

He chuckled quiet in his chest before he was turning out the bathroom light and joining you on the bed, wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. Your back flush against it, and you relished in the warmth that radiated off of him.

He pulled the sheets and duvet up to cover you both, kissed your temple before trailing his lips down to your cheek, your jaw and eventually your throat. Where he whispered his goodnight into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You had uttered yours back to him when you turned your head to catch his lips with yours one more time before you faced forward again and settled in to sleep through the passing night.

Missed constellations and the pale glow the moonlight cast upon the complexes that made up your neighborhood. All to be in the safe and protective arms of your beloved husband.

Simon Riley. Who you loved and adored more than anything in this world.

—

ఌ author’s note: i just like to imagine that when you are in the arms of your comfort character all your fears, all your worries and your aches and your pains just vanish.. as if being in their arms makes everything okay… makes you safe and protected… makes you loved ❤︎︎

[aimeedaisies]

Princess Anne and Sir Tim Laurence attending day three of Badminton Horse Trials where they supported their (step)daughter Zara Tindall on 11th May 2024.

[circusinarun]

Ma big boi!

Mama hen big boi

Small big boi (with potato crisp)

And finally, big boi with 'Pril!

(I finally learned how to draw his snout and head!)

[fungateshortcakes]

I'm literally crying so hard rn, I have been for the past two days and can't seem to stop because life is so shitty and idk what to do with myself. I feel so sick and miserable and I just need Logan to kiss me, comb his fingers through my hair, whisper into my ear that everything will be okay while I cry and sob and shake against him as he cuddles me to sleep. Why did my parents choose depression daughter?? Just gonna kms atp

[mel-loly]

-Thank you to everyone who is still here liking, commenting and reblogging my content, even though I'm not posting much “fandom stuff” anymore, you're still here! And I really appreciate that.. (and that makes me so happy, that as I showed in the “comic”, it moves me, so- thank you, really!!) :]💛

Also- a tip: there are also many other blogs that don't post fandom stuff, but when they do, they get more likes and reblogs than the original/other content.. So also give love to those people who have your original content, reblog, like, comment, because that's what they need! Recognition for your original content! And I know you won't regret it, and it won't hurt you to do what I said! In fact, you will be doing good and giving such love that many wanted and deserve.

A big kiss/p and a hug! Even for those who only like it when I post fandom stuff, I still love you so much, and I won't stop making this type of content, ok? I just want to give more voice to what I have to give as original, because that's what makes me happy and well ^^

-Melissa, Designer.

[loregoddess]

hi, have a silly thing that I was possessed to suddenly make, don't take it too seriously