#Scribbly Little Moments

[ghostlykestrel525]

From Shadows

the chaos is expanding. i'm branching out into the Ipliers, bitches. so to briefly look back on my headcanons for how Nate's demonic egos would have made their first appearances - i reckon that reaction was probably the calmest. the bois were chill about it, they didn't try anything scary, they just kinda Showed Up. ohohoho boy was Darkiplier not so polite in his arrival. i think he can to some degree control the shadows around him. this includes being able to step in and vanish and basically use them like a personal highway to wherever the hell he wants. which, if you're Markiplier and this fucker just randomly emerges from the dark... is gonna be kinda terrifying the first couple times. -=-=-=-

In his defence: most people would be alarmed if a grey-scaled version of themselves in a suit had stepped out of the shadows. The screaming, flailing, and scrambling backwards in the world’s worst impression of a spider were understandable enough that they weren’t a crime.

It was the throwing everything he could get his hands on at the approaching demon that was a terrible plan. Anything and everything. Most of his projectiles missed, the demon deftly avoided the rest as if it were nothing more interesting than walking uninterrupted across the room. His eyes never wavered. Pitch-dark, blacker than spilt ink, devoid of any sympathy and seemingly of a soul, so intense was the stare. It was the creeping chill that make everything worse. Darkness seemed to pool around the creature, sapping all semblance of warmth and light out of the area, as if his existence alone was draining away the colour of the world around him. The ice was so potent it seeped into Mark’s bones as he cowered, having flattened himself into a corner entirely by accident, clutching for something else to fling at the malevolent presence. The final projectile went hurtling through the air – aimed surprisingly well, flying in an arc that would have ended in direct impact with the demon’s face. Squeak! The plush dog toy screamed in protest as it was caught in a crushing grip, the demon’s hand snapping up to catch the offending object less than a foot away from the collision with his face. Slowly, he lowered it, looking distinctly peeved at having been attacked with a dog toy, of all things. The plushie let out another miserable squeak as it hit the floor, and the demon stepped over it, observing Mark with a cold, but not entirely unfriendly look. When he spoke, it rang with three voices together; speaking in unison, although one was considerably louder than the other two. It almost seemed to resound from somewhere within Mark’s skull, rather than the demon’s vocal cords. “Are you finished crying, human?” -=-=-=-=-=-

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[way2gosuperrstarr]

the world's most underqualified daycare team 😁🫶

i fear theyre cooked.

ignore moon and monday being in almost the same pose i noticed it too late to change it.

original au post w og refs and au explaination

my sun and moon designs w more 'detail elaboration' (not sdgo related post, just them in general)

i did want to make sun and moon's designs in sdgo different than my general personal designs that i use in my self insert au for easier differentiation for other people (i can tell them apart pretty easiy because i portray them personality-wise pretty differently in both aus), but . im too attached . to my current designs um 😔 /silly their designs r basically the same i just wanted to draw them in this lineup w monday/yn/mc/whathaveyou so they didnt look . sad and lonely. lol . theyve already got enough of that "sad and lonely" shit going on in the storyline ❤️

i probably shouldve written a bit more on the image itself but i didnt . want to crowd it.

closeups and a bit ....more..... yapping (not too much, but might interest some? maybe?) under cut 👍 + their all eye variations put onto their actual drawn faces, for funsies ^_^

moon doesnt get a security mode until later into the timeline ^_^ it's (spoilers i guess) actually how the virus gets passed onto him and sun! when his security mode gets added the virus comes with it.

moon's by far got the most eye variations god damn (i love him)

[doctorsiren]

he’s mad she ratted him out

[gbirrd]

6/9 - Jason Todd tarot card designs for Complete Candor by @vexfulfolly as part of the @batfam-big-bang

Read the fic here!

Other cards:

1-Babs 2-Cass 3-Bruce 4-Tim 5-Damian 6-Jason 7-Duke 8-Steph 9-Dick

Image IDs

Image 1:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL". A symbol of a gravestone is visible behind the numeral "XV".

A young Jason Todd in his Robin uniform tugs at a thick chain around his neck that comes down from the top of the frame. Matching shackles are around his wrists and he is buried up to his waist in dirt. His head is tilted up towards the chain. There is blood on his hands, arms, chest, and dripping down the right side of his face as well as from his nose.

Image 2:

A design of "The Devil" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE DEVIL" upside-down. A symbol of a flame is visible behind the numeral "XV".

Jason Todd faces forward, filling most of the frame. He is in his Red Hood uniform and has narrowed pupil-less white eyes. He is holding the end of a thick chain in his right fist. Flames fill the background and bathe him in an orange light. The entire card is upside-down.

[coffee-dere]

I don't know why people are shipping them or what their ship name is but I'm here for it

Felt silly :3

[archivistofnerddom]

The Batch + Getting forehead kisses from their partners

Hunter

Hunter carries so much weight that comes with keeping the family safe and together. You giving him this soft gesture is an acknowledgement of and silent thanks for everything he does. It’s a little action between you two.

With his heightened senses, Hunter frequently deals with overstimulation. You gently brushing back some of his hair and cupping his face calms him. His focus is solely on you in this moment. All his senses focus directly on you as you tilt his head back slightly to kiss his forehead. When you press that gentle kiss to his forehead, he glitches a bit and reaches out for you, holding you close to him.

He won’t say it, but he needs to have you so close to keep him from getting so overwhelmed by everything. And you understand. You stay close and lean into him, pressing one another kiss to his forehead as you hear him breathe more steadily.

Crosshair

He doesn’t trust easily, doubly so after what he survived with the Empire. Trusting you is a Big Thing for him. You can tell how much Crosshair needs gentle, soft reassurance that you’re still there, still around to support and love him.

Crosshair is tense when you slide next to him, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders with one arm. He looks at you intently. You shift yourself enough so that you can press a kiss to his forehead. Crosshair’s hand finds yours, squeezing gently, a little act of gratitude from him.

When you draw back a bit, he moves a bit and presses his forehead against yours. This feels safe. This feels like home. You feel warm when he acts like this with you. Crosshair is telling you that you are important to him without having to say anything.

Tech

This man always has something going on in his head, and he usually has four projects going on at once. Tech is a man of activity. He doesn’t slow down easily.

When you join him at his work bench, he’s happy. Tech likes having you nearby. He smiles at you when you lean over and sneak in a kiss to his forehead. You feel his hand sneak around your waist when you do, keeping you from stepping away after you finish that kiss.

Tech isn’t always good with his words, but he does show he cares with his actions. Accepting your kiss to his forehead and holding you close is one way he says he cares about you. Holding you close after you press this little kiss to his forehead is an enjoyable way for him to take a break from his work.

Wrecker

Wrecker is a very physically affectionate person. He loves openly and freely, often wearing his heart on his sleeve. When he has someone he loves deeply, Wrecker will let them know so clearly how much they mean to him.

You laugh when he pulls you down into his lap, one of his hands on your hip and the other around your back. Wrecker inhales sharply when you cup his face with both hands and kiss his forehead. His hand on your hip tightens a bit, a sign of how much you doing this means to him.

For Wrecker, this gentle sign of affection from you is also a sign that he is safe and can enjoy peace after war and being on the run. Wrecker likes being able to slow down and put down roots with his family and with you.

Echo

Look, Echo has been through a lot. He does so much to get his brothers to safety from their horrible treatment from the Empire. It’s a heavy thing that he’s handle, one that is thrown on top of him still recovering from his trauma at the hands of the Techno Union and his new life with three prosthetic limbs and cybernetic limbs.

You know how much that weighs on him, and it tugs at your heart. In the quiet moments between missions, Echo finds comfort being near you, often taking your hand in his good hand. Adjusting your position, you put your free hand on his scomp gently and press a little kiss onto his forehead.

Echo might be surprised by getting a forehead kiss from you, but he loves receiving it. Your acceptance of him as he is now means so much to him. Echo appreciates having quiet moments like these. He draws strength from having you around, especially as he’s dealing with so much for his brothers.

[spaciebabie]

okay look at the ponies

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinking about puppet!Home. also thinking about that tidbit saying that Wally had to learn how to be gentle first as to not break things. combining both for maximum effect

[murdleandmarot]

She’s my best friend in the whole wide world

[drawfee-quot3s]

we do offer boons! in exchange for currencies

like if you are a patron of a certain tier we draw you something. of your request

and if you unlock the secRet one millioN dollar tier, we Will aid you in a fight :)

- jacob, julia, + karina

[ghostlykestrel525]

i have been giggling at this for way too long. (bear with me here-)

So this is a headcanon within a headcanon I guess? NWTB egos, specifically Mare, but like-- I like to imagine that collectively, the battle beans just consider each other as a sibling pod. Some of them actually being related because why not, but mostly it's just. Mfs adopted each other, and I can so see all of them looking to Nate as a dad figure. Worth mentioning I reckon Mare's a whole-ass demon. It just fits somehow-- anyway- Scribble time. Here's how I reckon Mare started off referring to Nate as his parental figure. Completely by accident. In short: Nate accidentally used a dad-esque tone when scolding this dumbass, and Mare decides to run with it. -=-=-=-

“For fuck’s sake—” Twelfth time this week. Twelfth. God knows how many times he’d told that damned demon not to do exactly this, and yet, it was still happening. The yell was impressive, even for Nate’s standards. “NATEMARE, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, NOW,” That probably wasn’t the demon’s actual name, but it worked. He answered to it, at least. The explosion of dark smoke, solidifying into a fairly tall, broad-shouldered figure – one with an annoyingly cocky smirk on his face – was infuriating confirmation of that. He gestured angrily at the mess left behind, and Mare arched his eyebrows slightly as if to say; ‘yeah, and?’ If it weren’t a terrible idea to punch the demon – something he’d found out by accident when the bastard jump-scared him into trying it. Nate didn’t fancy shattering his hand again, or he’d have tried to smack the smug look off of the idiot’s face himself. Then again, he also knew Mare’s reflexes were lightning-fast – he probably wouldn’t be able to land the hit anyway. “You’ve gotta stop doing this, man,” Nate complained, folding his arms, and glaring at the demon as he smirked, clearly not taking this seriously. Who knew a powerful, several-thousand-year-old entity would turn out to be such a little shit? Exasperation flared up, and without paying quite enough attention to his tone, he glared at the demon, trying to set a solid boundary. “You moved yourself into my place; you’re under my roof. Is it really so hard to respect my rules?” Oops. He’d really done it now. The demon hunched his shoulders, stuck his bottom lip out like a child, and adopted a surprisingly high-pitched whine, sounding almost exactly like a plaintive teenager.

“But, daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad-” -=-=-=-=-=-

[cobra-wives]

serious philosophical question; should one of us kick the bucket?

small comic page thingy for the INSANE fic that is zelotypia by @terrence-silver - i definitely recommend giving it a read! so much interesting perspective on that ponytail-kreese-twig trio goodness; and terry’s inner workings and detestment for everyone that john loves more than him!

[heymacy]

💛

[thesnivy123]

this, too, is yuri

[morocosmos]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Day 11 - Surrogate

Masterlist Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Pairings: Leofard Myste & Warrior of Light Rating: Teen & Up Additional Notes: Takes place at during HW patch 3.5. Major spoilers for the Shadow of Mhach alliance raid questline. Ao3 Link

Lady Raimille. The picture painted by Stacia's tale was everything an orphaned child could want from a parent. Everything except that she'd passed on too soon — but not before giving her foster son one last gift.

The noblewoman’s real portrait hung above them, enshrined in Leofard’s quarters. Presiding over his affairs and his family; watching over the man himself. Moro'a knew that paintings like this cost a considerable sum to commission, and that taking care of them required specific knowledge and attention; unexpected obligations for a sky pirate. 

But the painting gleamed, immaculately free of blemishes. “I had wondered as to the origin of his vessel's naming,” Cait Sith said softly, his voice touched with emotion. “‘Tis a most beautiful painting.”

Moro’a’s time in Ishgard had also taught him that portraits like this one were made to memorialise — a likeness captured in brushstrokes, preserved from time. Remember me as I was, in this moment. Remember what this person means to us. Situated where their loved ones could gaze upon them, and never forget.

I doubt I'll ever feel worthy to sit where he sat.

Throughout their adventures, Leofard had pretended as though the portrait wasn’t there, and it was all Moro’a had needed to know not to bring it up. He’d accepted it without judgement, without ever considering otherwise. What was he here for, if not to hide from ghosts and broken hearts; from memory?

But now that Stacia had told them what Leofard would never impart himself, the pieces that made up the leader of the Redbills had finally begun to click: why a man who prized freedom so highly would build his new home a stone's throw from the Holy See, and why the loss of his airship had made Leofard retreat into himself, like a creature seeking familiar refuge. 

It seems she kept him safe until the very end, Utata had said, and Moro’a’s heart had clenched so tight that he thought it might shatter.

It wasn’t any of his business. The voidsent had been stopped, and Cait Sith had found a new home. His time with the Redbills was coming to a close. It’d been an engaging distraction, which was precisely what Moro’a had needed; there were no stones left to overturn, no more accidental revelations to be had. He would go his separate way, into the unknown, and then…

Later, as he was stowing the few essentials he’d brought into the manacutter, Moro’a heard footsteps approaching. He turned to see Leofard, who was already dressed in a clean set of clothes and red-tinted goggles. “I almost forgot,” the sky pirate said, as breezy as could be now as he held something out in his hand. A Redbill scarf.

“You didn’t have to,” Moro’a murmured, feeling a strange mixture of reluctance and guilt. 

“And I say otherwise, Warrior. I reckon you’ve done more than you’ll ever need to to have earned this.” His hand stretched closer, and Moro’a considered refusing. He was ready to quit this place, to move on. I’m not who you think I am, he wanted to say. 

Instead he found himself reaching out for the scarf, and tucking it in with the rest of his things.

If, after he'd said his farewells, his hand reached under the collar of his shirt to gently hold the necklace that rested against his chest, to remember, he was the only one who needed to know.