#Even when it's not there and I haven't drawn it

[solarkness]

Imposter Syndrome works with that.

I mean, I consider myself an artist even when I haven't drawn in months because I will return to it. I will draw again. No matter how much I stray away, how far I run, wherever I push it to be forgotten - I will return to it. I am an artist. It's not a fundamental identity like gender is, but it is an aspect of myself I can't escape (I've tried, but nothing catches the same way). And when you have something you can't escape, that you will return to because you don't know how not to, that you can't not return to... Then any attempt to get away from it ends up like Baddeline's claims.

And if you have Imposter Syndrome, well, you're not that good so you don't deserve to be called an artist. But you can't stop *being* one, returning over and over and over and over.

Maybe I'm weird though, but sometimes hobbies really work the same way that transgender allegories are written.

I'm 100% not disputing Maddy Thorson's claim that she didn't figure out she was trans until after she'd finished working on Celeste (DLC excluded), and the greater part of the game works at least as well as an allegory for living with mental illness as it does an allegory for gender transition. However, that specific repeated motif where Badeline keeps insisting – condescendingly at first, then with increasing desperation – that Madeline is "not a mountain climber", as though "being a mountain climber" is some sort of fundamental identity... well, I'd love to know where Thorson thought she was going with that part at the time that she wrote it, if it wasn't intended to be a gender thing.

[biteyoubiteme]

rosé

yeonjun x fem!reader warnings:🔞!!! tw:stepcest, don't like don't read!, vibrator use, no penetration, mentions of biting/teeth used, panty-fucking, prob forgot some sorry wc: 2.2k an: uuummm so look away I guess I still wont take requests for this kind fic and im not tagging my usual taglist so :p pls don't read if you don't like it

“You have to be joking,” your hand is still caught on the doorknob, frozen in place as you take in the sight of your childhood bedroom. Half the space was covered in boxes, labeled in the sideways handwriting of your step-mother. But everything else was frozen in time as the day you had left for college, frozen as the last holiday you had been back, ugly Christmas sweater thrown at the edge of your bed. Even the lone mattress on the ground from where a cousin had spent the weekend was waiting to be slept in. 

And that is where Yeonjun stood, his chuckle caught between shock and humor. He was holding a half-drunk bottle of rosé, the cap still screwed on the cheap glass. “You're not very good at hiding things,” he shakes the liquid enough to draw your eyes to it. 

“Going through people's things is childish,” you mutter, tossing your bag next to the bed, “shouldn't you be in your own room?” 

It wasn't new to see him around the times that you visited, he lived only a town over, closer than you had stayed when the two of you had dispersed from home. He wanted to stay close to his mom, loved to rub it in your face when you came back that he was the better child. Your parents hadn't gotten married until the last year of high school, too soon for you to really find a connection with your new step-mom in a way that yeonjun had found with your dad. 

“They turned my room into a gym,” he kicked at the boxes littering the space, “they haven't gotten around to clearing out yours but it's going to be the guest room from now on,” 

“No-” you groaned, falling back on your bed, “I don't want a roommate for the weekend, I wanted relaxation,” it's not that you care they are changing things around but it was less appealing to have to know every time you came home you would have to spend it in the same room as any cousin, family member, or, like now, stepbrother.  Some selfish part of you hadn't liked how changed everything had become since the added members in the house had become permanent, your room had stayed yours, and if you had anything left of before it was this. 

“You don't want me around? I'm good company,” you can hear the dip in his voice, the low murmur of it making you shiver. You sit up on your elbows, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Don't take that tone with me,” but it's weak, the both of you know it, testing the line drawn in the sand every time you two had the opportunity. Spending time in such close quarters didn’t help it in the slightest. The two of you had agreed, or you had told him, that you wouldn't push it further than the teasing, and yet… 

Yeonjun’s lip lifts in a smirk, just high enough to show his teeth, calling your bluff. You remember that hazy period in time when the two of you didn't have to keep apart, fumbling kisses shared at a party, hands finding places neither of you wanted to pull away from. It was only a few weeks later when you were told about the engagement, the shock was a bucket of ice water thrown over the two of you. Suddenly flirty glances in class turned to frozen glares and when you moved in that last year together it had felt suffocating. It had been a mix of teenage annoyance and rebellion to avoid him, and you did in the short few months you spent in his company. 

Then you had both gone to college, two separate universities on opposite sides of the city. It had been easy to ignore him but easier still to find it in you to heal the indifference into tolerance. But then you found yourself at a party, the lights low and his smile just like this one now. You couldn't blame drinking, couldn't blame anything except the fact that you wanted to kiss him again, needed to devour him in the way that he had consumed your mind anytime you thought of him. 

You had been the one to stop it before it had gone too far, in the backseat of his car, grinding on him, still chasing his lips even as you said ‘We have to stop’ his soft reply of, ‘We should’ without either of you pulling away. It had been on your mind every time you saw him again, especially now. 

“Fine, but I want a thank you, I found all your contraband that you wouldn't want them to find when cleaning your room out,” he lifted the bottle again, “how long did you have this stashed in the back of your closet?” 

You had forgotten all about the bottle, less so about most things sitting in your closet, drawers, or under the bed. You had moved out your important things, anything left was by mistake or unimportant. “Who cares we are adults, a little rosé is nothing to worry over them finding,” 

“And this?” you didn't know what to expect when he lifted his hand, another lone bottle of some other drink you forgot about was nothing to worry about and yet it wasn't that. There in his hand was a slim vibrator, pink and a foreign sight in his grasp. 

“Yeonjun-” you whisper shouted, the two of you were alone in the house, the bedroom all the way up in the attic space. But it felt like you couldn't scold him loudly, your face flushing, heat spreading all over you. And he chuckled, shoulder shaking as he flicked his finger over the button to turn it on, the soft buzz making you clench your thighs. “Put it away,” 

“Should I? I charged it and it would be a shame not to use it, if even a little bit,” he stalked closer, slow like a prowl, already having his sights set on eating you alive. “And you already look like you want it on you,” you watched the way his eyes flickered down to your thighs, rubbing together as you tried to deny that they were doing so. 

“We said we wouldn't,” you whisper, hands twisting in the sheets as he leans down nose so close to bumping yours, breathing in the same air. 

“We said we shouldn't, that never stopped us before,” the last syllable is pressed right to your upper lip, the ghosting of his mouth like sweet temptation against yours, “and all I could think about since the last time was that we shouldn't have stopped, because now you're all that's ever on my mind and you're never even around to rectify that,” he leans in closer, on hand bracing beside you on the bed while you try to keep even a hairs distance from falling into his trap because once you slipped up and found yourself caught you knew you wouldn't even try to escape. “Just one kiss, please,” 

“Just one-” You couldn't even get the words out before he was on you, pressing his mouth to yours, seeking to consume you. Your hands shot out, pulling on his shirt locking him in place as he fell on top of you hardly even trying to keep his distance but you wouldn't even give him that once his lips were on yours. The two of you worked so well together, every little touch was sending sparks up and down your body. You opened your legs instinctively for him, wanted him to fit against you, slot himself in your personal space even if it was only for the length of one kiss. But that wasn't what it was, this wasn't the simple peck but a feast of pent-up want and need reduced to a single moment as if you hadn't indulged before. 

He was hot and hard, grinding against you until you were gasping into his mouth, sloppy kisses now working down your throat as he nipped at your skin, teeth looking to find every sensitive spot you had. He wanted to devour you even if he shouldn't, and you were no better. It didn't matter if you said just one kiss, the two of you knew what it meant, you had said it before and you had him on the verge of finishing untouched in his jeans but he would finish this time, he wanted to reach that spot with you. 

And you wanted it too, not caring about your previous intentions as soon as he was pressed so close to you. He reached his hand down between you two, vibrator on as he pressed it right against your clothed clit, the vibration muffled with all the fabric and yet you gasped, hips bucking up to meet the sensation. “Oh,” his open-mouthed kisses warm against the skin on your throat, your hands sliding up to his hair, twisting your fingers in the strands. He pulls away for only a second, hands falling to the waistband of your pants, needing to get them off of you. “We can't-” 

“Please- I just wanna see how wet you are for me,” he begs, forehead pressed to yours feeling your nod more than seeing it. He pulls your pants clean off, leaving you in the nearly transparent white panties you have on. Yeonjun groans at the outline of you clear as day as the fabric clings to you. He doesn't hesitate to press the vibrator right back over your clit. You try to snap your thighs closed, the one less layer making it so much harder to not react. 

His free hand comes out to trace over your cunt, fingers circling up and down as you throw your head back, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Now look at that,” he runs one finger between the fabric of your panties and your aching center, the digit coming away slick as he lifts it to his mouth to taste, your brows scrunching together as you try to hold back your whine. It's a drawn-out moan that comes from him, “You taste as good as you look,” he presses the vibrator harder on your clit, “let me fuck you- please-” 

“We shouldn't-” you try but it's caught in your throat when he clicks up the vibration, free hand back to running up and down the outside of your panties. 

“Please,” he whispers like it's ripping him apart, not being able to sink into you when you look this good. He presses his pelvis closer to you, his bulge perfect for your grinding hips to try and find a steady pace on. “Please,” he lets his hips drag along with the word, your lip caught between your teeth as you try not to cry out but it's impossible to deny him, especially when he's promising to not put it in, and you know if you say no he will stop and if you say yes you wouldn't stop him even if he did try to do more. And all you wanted was more. 

You nod, needing more of him, needing to feel something more if anything at all. He pushes his hand into his pants, tugging out his cock, veiny and slick with bubbling precum, wrist working to give it a few loose drags. You're whimpering at the sight, wishing to say to hell with not having him just fuck you into the mattress. And you almost do say ‘fuck it’ the second he presses his tip right to your covered entrance, the slick of your panties only causing him to slip, the length of him rubbing over you. 

“I won't- I won't,” he's screwing his eyes closed, shaking his head as he convinces himself more than he's telling you. Just brushing against you, feeling the vibration hitting right under his tip as he grinds down on you makes it so much worse. Every sound he's making is desperate and whiny, echoing in the room as he presses his free hand into the mattress, keeping you pressed down and in the circle of his arm. He can't control the way his hips move, just chasing the high of wanting to be in you and the feel of you so close and yet so far. 

He tries to press his tip back in, properly fucking into your panties even if there is little give before he's back to slipping and grinding back down on your cunt, clicking up the vibrator until you can feel it sending sparks all over your body, the ache in your belly turning into a blinding light before you tremble, tugging him closer to you as much as you can get. “I'm- I'm cu-” It's only a moment before your orgasm crashes into you, your body trying to pull away from the vibration and yet being stuck in place with the weight of Yeonjun over you.

And he doesn't stop or pull away, whimpering as he jerks, cock twitching right before he's spilling ropes of white all over your stomach, t-shirt a mess of it. It's not until he pulls away the vibrator, clicking it off, that he's stopped the slow dribble of cum from shooting out. 

Both of you are breathing hard, Yeonjun's face now pressing into your neck to try and hide, hips still moving, languid as he softens. “Never again,” you try to say, but both of you know the truth, especially when you're running your fingers through the hair at his sweaty temple. 

“Of course, never again,” he mutters but he's leaning right back in to kiss you. 

taglist for those who asked lol @beomiracles @beombunni and im tagging the wonderful @thetxtdevil bc she is the one who came up with this idea and gifted it to me ily mae thank you so bad-

[therapyplacebo]

𝙿𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎 🍎

Word count: 900

Pairing: Caleb x f!reader

Warnings: None (except some brief making out)

I keep thinking about how desperate and needy Caleb would be after not seeing you for a few weeks—both too busy with work to see each other outside occasional phone calls late at night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡⋆

It’s not his fault, really. You’ve just simply always had that effect on him—a rush of dopamine that floods his system with an incomparable warmth, setting his entire being ablaze.

Caleb definitely struggles to keep his composure—he does his usual hand flex to try and vainly rein it in. It’s a pathetic attempt at keeping his hands to himself when he sees you impatiently waiting for him near the FarSpace Fleet headquarters. He flashes you a crooked smile in the hopes that the familiarity of it hides the hunger that visibly plagues him. It’s a maddening itch that worsens the closer he gets as the pestering voices inside his head become impossible to drown out.

The two of you walk home in the bustling streets of Skyhaven. He tries his hardest to pay attention to whatever it is you're telling him on the way home. Something about a charity event at work, or was it a new movie that came out? Poor Caleb is way too distracted by the sight of you and the way his fingers innocently brush against yours as you walk inside the elevator.

The addicting rush to have you nearby after so long is dizzying. Pure sheer elation that he gets from your soft skin under his palm as he grabs your hand—pretending to inspect the delicate silvery bracelet that's wrapped around your wrist.

That’s definitely new. Definitely not from him. He frowns at the sight—jealousy creeping its way up his chest and seizing him by the throat.

"Caleb, are you alright? You haven't said a word."

The concern in your voice snaps him out of the downward spiral. Caleb takes a shaky breath, chuckling softly while shaking his head with an embarrassed smile. He senses your frown without even needing to look at your face—it's a second nature he developed years ago.

His eyes are still glued to where his fingers are clasped around your wrist. They painstakingly drag their way up your arm to finally land on your face, where the concerned yet loving look you give him shatters the semblance of innocence he painted himself with as a facade.

Fuck

His body moves of its own volition. The surprised look on his face mirrors yours when your back suddenly hits the wall behind you with a loud thud. Caleb's breathing stutters—his eyes roam over your face. His brows are drawn up as if in pain, and he settles his hand at the base of your neck, the weight of it reminding you of his strength. The distance between the two of you is so small that Caleb can practically taste your skin. The soft scent of your shampoo makes him lightheaded, and the warmth of your skin as he cups your cheek makes him salivate.

He's so, so close. His lips imperceptibly brush against yours, but he can't bring himself to make the final move—too torn to make yet another selfish decision he'll hate himself for afterwards.

Caleb hears you gulp. He can feel the tension that builds up in your gaze, how the anticipation settles in the air like a thick fog that clouds his judgment.

He deflates, stumbling backward as he pushes himself up from the wall, away from the addicting feeling of your body against his. He keeps his eyes on the ground, glued to his shoes as he struggles to regain his breathing, to distract himself from the urge to taste your lips. The whirring of the elevator sounds eerily similar to the buzzing inside his head from the adrenaline rush. His heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his throat—he can taste the acidic coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

He hears you scoff—a dejected laugh followed by a sigh.

Caleb forces himself to look at you through the burning shame on his face. Still bearing a torn expression—one he usually hides from you.

Your vexed expression leaves no room for misinterpretation, and it feeds the growing delusions inside him. "You're such a coward."

He blinks, momentarily stunned by the familiar words as he stares at you dumbfounded. Time stands still, and yet the elevator doors open.

Neither of you move for what feels like a lifetime, but the frayed thread finally snaps. Caleb slams his hand backward on the control panel, hitting several buttons. The doors close once more, and he surges forward, pushed by the need to prove you wrong, the need to show you that his self-righteousness does not extend as far as you think it does.

Your head hits the wall from the sheer force of the impact as Caleb claims your lips—teeth clashing as he coaxes your mouth open for him, swallowing the surprised moan you make. The kiss is hungry, desperate, and angry. His hands are everywhere: your hips, your waist, your neck. He can't seem to get enough—maddened by his frustrations and pent-up worry from not seeing you for weeks, years.

He wants you all to himself, but most of all, he hates the way being away from you makes him feel like a background character in the life he used to be an integral part of.

Maybe all you need is a good reminder.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[frownyalfred]

I'm reading and loving "dead man's party", and am wondering the sources for Jewish!Martha and Bruce? (This isn't a jab at "where's the evidence" as if they can't be! It's just my curiosity, because I certainly haven't read every issue in the comics! or, as non-Jewish, can see implications, even if I had a hundred years to read every issue.)

Totally understand, this is a question I get a lot actually. The whole Jewish Bruce and/or Martha thing came up when DC technically (accidentally?) ret-conned Martha's family into being Jewish, which -- if you follow Jewish law on how that's passed down -- technically makes it very likely that Martha, and therefore Bruce, are both Jewish. I explain that process a bit more in depth here.

As for implications beyond that in canon that Bruce is Jewish -- we do see Bruce placing stones on Alfred's grave at one point, which is a Jewish burial custom.

and we also have this photo from the Waynes' funeral (credit to @hillshollow)

But as I mention in the ask I linked above, while there are hints/implications scattered throughout canon, it's never explicitly said out loud like it is in dead man's party, where I obviously took liberties and expanded that semi-accidental "what if?" into a whole storyline.

As for how they're Jewish in that fic, that's entirely drawn from my own experiences as a Jewish person. I am absolutely open to feedback on those parts, but please do it respectfully <3

[yore-donatsu]

Yeah ! Metal!Rama is back and it'll make quite an impression !

Knowing Ramattra's perfectionism, he had to make every show memorable. This is one of his best and most accomplished

It took him several weeks to create these special effects. Nobody was supposed to know before the show (except the guy who was going to "beat him up")

Yeah ! The technical team and his crew were unaware of this, and the surprise was titanic

[shwinlsol]

I apparently have an affinity for drawing grizzled old men and their psychopathic exes

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Breaking Bread, and Spilling Soup [Bonus art]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[amelia-yap]

it's april and they are bloody fools

[zu-is-here]

calm after the storm

Kist Day by @lunhasissues

Murder by ask-dusttale

Killer by rahafwabas / rahaf-wabas / rahofy-sketch

[sysig]

“It could be that the loss of her children drove the Queen deeper into her darker desires...but, I don’t believe she was fighting against them that hard before that particular tragedy. No monster does.” (Patreon)

Bonus:

Hmm, wonder what he could cover those holes with :3c

[taikoturtle]

insp

[almondcroissantsandink]

I'm moving and was going through my books today and found the Book of Mormon script book I bought in like 2016 so I could illustrate Kevin Price's coffee monologue and opened it up to the Spooky Mormon Hell Dream section and this line has no right to be so funny

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID: a digital sketch of Eda and Raine from the owl house. They're in their designs from watching and dreaming, pre epilogue. Raine holds out their arm for an injection (given by a disembodied hand and labeled "magic rabies shot") and Eda lays a hand on their shoulder and leans her head on theirs. She says "you're doing great Raine! how'd you get rabies tho?". Raine stares dead eyed at the viewer as a thought bubble connected to them shows Belos biting down on their arm. End ID]

I was gonna post a request today but I feel like it's gonna flop and this is funnier. So request tomorrow, Raine Whispers Rabies doodle today

[redbootsindoriath]

Happy Christmas!

(And Yule, winter solstice, lunar new year, etc, there are a lot of holidays at this time of year but it happens to be Christmas today, so there we go.)

Anyway, it always struck me as funny how Beleg showed up with supplies that one winter like Saint Nicholas himself except bringing gifts to the kids on the naughty list. Couldn't believe I hadn't done a comic relating to that yet.

Transcription:

[Santa:] "Ah, well, I got here first. Tough luck, sorry, man. But hey, I do have some job openings for elves!" [Andróg:] "What's this black stuff he gave to all of us?"

[vargaslovinghours]

And never let you go ♥

Bonus without the overspill lighting:

[op-dumpstertruck]

“I got you no matter what” EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRY SCREAM THROW UP—

Yesss - if there is one thing Zoro is, above anything else, he's loyal! I haven't drawn much out yet, but I do see him being not exactly perfect with this (he does tumble along, says some insensitive stuff, really doesn't get Sanji for the longest time because they communicate badly) but! When shit hits the fan he is there! And of all the strawhats I think he'd be the most quiet/calm/stalwart support there is. (And Zoro is definitely pro choice, I do see him as someone for whom it's as simple as 'he doesn't want this so it's not gonna happen'.) With alllllll the other things they argue about, this should be a huge fight. But it doesn't happen - not here, and not about that.