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[readwebcomicsgdi]

Comic recommendation! Magefront!

https://www.magefrontcomic.com/

It's a fantasy comic about a necromancer who becomes a soldier and gets a wraith companion and a knight who's bonded to her by blood. Lots of goofy spooky shenanigans happen.

Amarantha Steppenhaus has big dreams of following in her famous battlemage mother's footsteps, and when she's accepted into the prestigious College of Magic and chosen to become a Bonded soldier, she sees those dreams becoming reality. Magefront is a story about going on an adventure to find yourself, and sometimes the adventure has very high highs and very low lows. There will be scenes of violence and self harm, suggested nudity and adult situations.

Nice, really like the art style for this one! Here's a clickable link for y'all.

https://www.magefrontcomic.com/

Looks like the author can be found here on tumblr @paradoxicaldickery !

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

Make Me Choose

@susann-noir asked: Arno with Hood Up or Hood Down?

“Do you trust me? I haven’t changed that much...”

[botanikos]

𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 / ✰

@discoinfernos asked: “Does it still hurt?” (from Blitz)

No blood fell from open wound, and as far as Stolas could tell, all of his bones were in tact. Despite the deep ache blooming in his chest and one shoulder, he felt fine. It certainly wasn't the worst injury he's ever received, and by that knowledge alone, he deems it unworthy of fussing over. The prince offers a playful and nonchalant wave of a dainty hand. Curvature of beak and mouth slipping into an easy and placating smile. ❝ Not at all, you have nothing to worry about. ❞ Red hues sweep over Blitz, a fracture in the lax nature prior. He leans closer. ❝ What about you—are you. . . Are you alright? ❞

[rabenschwcrz]

『 “The roads are flooded. Looks like you’re stuck with me.” 』 sent by @vikasgarden

Blutrot und riesig senkte sich die Sonne am frühen Abend dem Horizont entgegen. Man sagte, zu dieser Jahreszeit gab es das längste Zwielicht, die magische Stunde zwischen Tag und Nacht. Der Spätsommer war launisch, unentschlossen zwischen sengender Mittagshitze und den ersten, frostigen Herbstnächten. Zuerst sah man einen grellen Blitz zwischen den Wolken. Danach folgte ein lautes Donnergrollen. Jedes Kind kannte dieses Phänomen, trotzdem hielten alle für einen Moment inne als sich schlagartig der Himmel verdunkelte und sich ein gewaltiges Unwetter über der Stadt zusammenbraute. Die Leute verfielen in einen eiligen Gang, spannten ihre Schirme auf, wobei ihnen ein kräftiger Wind zu schaffen machte. Andere suchten gemeinschaftlich Schutz unter Vordächern, in Erwartung des Regens. Ein junger Mann in schwarz bewegte sich gegen den Strom der Passanten. Die ersten, dicken Tropfen fielen. Sie landeten weich auf seinem Haaransatz, Stirn und Nasenrücken. Er befand sich nun am leergefegten Ende der eben noch gut besuchten Promenade. Ein weiter, offener Platz mit einem großen Zierbrunnen in der Mitte. In der Nähe überragte das alte Rathaus mit Glockenturm die angrenzenden Gebäude. Es warf einen breiten, finsteren Schatten auf den Platz und das letzte Tageslicht verschwand hinter der schwarzen Wolkenfront. Ein paar Augenblicke später goss es wie aus Kübeln. Sturmböen wehten die runterkommenden Wassermassen gegen die Häuserfronten und fegten heulend durch schmale Seitengassen. Nach einigen Minuten war der Brunnen überschwemmt und verwandelte sich in einen Wasserfall. Außer ihm war hier keine andere Menschenseele weit und breit, oder...? Er streckte die Hände ein Stück aus, mit den Handflächen nach oben. Der starke Regen durchnässte ihn bis auf die Knochen und der überfüllte Brunnen hinter ihm flutete den Platz bis er knöcheltief im Wasser stand, aber er störte sich überhaupt nicht daran. Lieber beobachtete er das Spektakel direkt über sich: Drei, vier, fünf lange Blitze erhellten die Dunkelheit, direkt gefolgt von ohrenbetäubendem Mehrfachdonner. Allmählich wurde es für jeden Normalsterblichen gefährlich hier draußen. Der heftige Sturm zerlegte gnadenlos den Süßigkeitenstand vom alten Morgan, der seit über dreißig Jahren kleinen und großen Marktbesuchern eine Freude machte mit seinen Leckereien. Armer, alter Mann, wenn der morgen früh sein zerstörtes Häuschen vorfinden würde. Der Wind riss die Planken von der Holzhütte und verwehte sie quer über den Platz. Eine verfehlte Michaels Gesicht nur knapp aber der zuckte nichtmal zusammen. Er blickte allerdings in die Richtung aus der das Holzstück geflogen kam und entdeckte bei der Gelegenheit, dass er sich doch nicht mutterseelenallein im Auge des Sturms befand. Die Gestalt trat aus einer Seitenstraße hinter Morgans Stand hervor und kam in seine Richtung. Die Wassermassen reichten ihr bis zu den Waden. "Mit einem Schirm kann ich leider nicht dienen.", rief er der jungen Frau zu als sie in Hörweite kam. "Was zum Teufel machen Sie allein hier draußen?" Mal davon abgesehen, dass er selber allein hier draußen war. Bloß könnte er nicht versehentlich von herumfliegenden Holzplanken erschlagen werden. "Passen Sie auf Ihren Kopf auf.", warnte er als sich erneut ein Brett löste und auf sie zugeflogen kam. "Stadteinwärts sind die Straßen noch mehr geflutet. Sieht so aus als würden Sie hier mit mir festsitzen."

[videcoeur]

💘 (( i don't know with which of our various muses it could be, but i know a ship w/ you would be so cool :> ))

send me a 💑 if we ship our muses together and i'll tell you why i love our ship!

if we aren't shipping our muses together but want to, send me a 💘 and i'll give you my first impressions of the ship!

me looking at your blog, waiting for my moment to strike:

[dcviated]

bear chats about stuff :: open

@etherose sent: 24. your first RPC also asked by @more-than-a-princess

Well, nowadays I can confidently say I'm not 'part' of any RPC. I write with people rather than groups because I'm proudly picky and selective and 9 times out of 10 getting involved with the "C" part of RP means getting into immature jealous-based gossip and cliques. Some probably think of me as part of this or that circle, but it'd be a mistake to do so.

Anyway!

Starting out I was here and there on forums and then avatar platforms that are super weird to look back at now. I unabashedly fell into them and writing because of my then-girlfriend. And the first fandom I actually wrote in? Extensively?

...Zim. Yeah, the nick show! B) Very good show! And yet the place where I was writing it was so ... oddly divergent from the source material I hazard to call it that. It got to the point it felt more like writing green humans in a scifi scenario with antenna and tech backpacks.

Also. Wylan was stupidly overpowered and gary stu back then. This was his borderline self-insert era and every single interest or anime I got into somehow found a way to absorb itself into what he could do and it was laughably hilarious looking back. But hey! I was like... 16? 17?

I could have chopped enough backstory and 'development' off of him to make two entirely new characters. To say he was redesigned on that front to make his tumblr debut much time later is an understatement.

I don't regret my years there, and meeting the people I did, despite falling out over time with pretty much every single person there for one stupid reason or another (see above!!!) but! I did meet my now wife of nearly ten years there because of it. So. :^)

I win.

[selfshipstation]

i don't really know what all your f/os have in common, so i'm just gonna throw a curveball! muno from yo gabba gabba?

Not surprising. I don’t talk about my F/O’s much.

Anyways, an unexpected choice! I like it.

Based on skimming his wiki page, I think we’d get along! I have no idea what type of F/O “child I like to play with sometimes” falls under, but I would totally learn about bugs with him.

[sainz100]

2024 Brazilian GP | x

[ashoss]

why is he aflame ?

[heartorbit]

if your art is food, it'd be like those fruit hard candies flavoured. Which is yummy (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! candy reminded me of emu and so i must draw her for you

[batbabydamian]

Just want to say i have been checking ur blog everyday for that gif of daminyan going book book book kneading on dicks tail, the repetitive motion somehow calms me down when I am stressed lol so a massive thank you!

ahh i drew that in the middle of my own stress, so knowing it helped makes it feel more worth it! i hope you’ve been doing much better since, and here’s extra doodles of the duo for you 🥺

[jkvjimin]

TAEHYUNG, NAMJOON & JUNGKOOK + memories (2014-2021) (cr. dwellingsouls, 0613data, namuspromised)

happy birthday, sky! @jung-koook 💟

[h0neylevi]

Levi with Red!!

c/w: written with fem!reader in mind, otherwise just cute post-war fluff ❤︎ words: 490

Levi’s never really thought much about the meaning behind colors.

It’s common knowledge that the sky is blue and grass is green. When the seasons shift, the leaves on trees often change with them. Greens fade to orange and yellow. The sky above becomes a spotted and despondent gray.

And then there are the other ways that colors show up in life that have more unnatural origins–their meanings more subjective. Was the green of scout cloaks chosen for camouflage or to inspire hope? Would Mikasa care so much about that scarf she wears all the time if it were yellow instead?

No matter the meaning behind it, Levi’s seen enough blood in his life to associate the color red with pain.

But now, as he stands at the threshold of your door and stares down the large bouquet of red roses in his arms, something very unfamiliar stirs in his gut. If he didn’t know any better, he’d call it anxiety.

They had been Onyankopon’s idea, the flowers.

After Levi had asked you (rather impulsively) on a date one slow afternoon at your tea shop, the man had taken it upon himself to offer some friendly guidance.

‘Don’t frown. Save any jokes for at least date three. And above all else, at least look like you’re having a good time, hm?’

The door opens while he recites the words in his head and you quickly emerge, jumpy in your movements.

“Sorry,” you greet in a breathless way, turning your back to him to shut and lock your door. “I couldn’t find my bag.”

Behind you, he tries to adjust his expression into something less deadpan. “It’s alright.”

It takes a moment but when you turn back to face him again, he feels like his heart might fall through his stomach.

Your lips, painted a rich rouge, curl into a shy smile. Then, you look down at the bouquet in his hands.

“Oh.” You blink, clearly surprised. “Are these for me?”

If he could think, he might respond with something dry and witty. Something likely far too scathing for someone so pretty and kind, but by some miracle he remembers Onyankopon’s advice and manages a soft yes before offering them to you.

He feels warm when you take them and bring them to your nose. So much so that he’s suddenly very aware of the collar of his shirt around his neck. Is this what it feels like to blush? He must look like an idiot, red in the face after only giving someone flowers.

But if he is, you’re nice enough to not point it out. Instead you inhale the fresh, floral scent and sigh.

“These are so lovely, Levi. Thank you.”

You smile again, and Levi thinks for a brief moment that maybe he understands a little better how people land upon a favorite color. Because in this moment, he can’t think of a more beautiful color than red.

[stevebabey]

uhm shyly comes into your inbox to give a steve idea :’)

finding him so so so pretty in that stupid dark blue polo, not being able to really look at him properly. it’s tight against his chest and stomach which makes him look delicious, wanting to be devoured really. he’s simply so pretty. worst thing is: he fucking knows it. so he’s cocky about it and teasing, it’s never relenting. he loves it and honestly so do you.

(feel free to ignore!)

trying to get my steve groove back on!!! thank u for sending something nonnie!! a lil bit of shy!reader <3 just a blurb too

Steve doesn’t know it’s a favourite of yours.

One of his polos fits his chest pretty perfectly if anyone asks your opinion. It’s that nice navy colour that looks good against his tan skin, with a bold stripe of white through the middle. A little plain but classic.

It hugs his biceps snugly and stretches ever so slightly over his chest. At the right angle, you can see the definition of his pecs and it’s awfully good at reminding you of what they look like with no shirt on at all.

The thought makes you fluster a bit.

He’s got plenty of polos but this one— this is your favourite. And he’s wearing it tonight, on Valentine’s day, and now you’re not quite sure you’ve been as slick with your wandering eyes as you hoped.

Across the booth, Steve smiles at you, his lashes kissing in the corner. He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck and your eyes zero in on the bulge of his bicep instantly.

Steve’s smiles melts into a grin, a tad wicked.

Yeah, okay, maybe he does know it’s your favourite.

You fluster again. Something nudges at your foot under the table, right as Steve says, “What?”

He’s teasing. He definitely knows what.

“Stop,” you murmur, on the side of embarrassed. “You know what.”

Steve smiles again and drops his arm, thankfully, only to fold them and lean forward on the table. It does wonders for his arms, especially in that shirt. Damn that shirt. Damn him. He’s evil.

“Do I know what?” He pretends to muse thoughtfully.

He tilts his pretty head to the side just an inch. His eyes stay locked on you, drinking up every second your flustered reaction. You’re beautiful, even more so when you get all embarrassed about liking him.

“Steve.”

“What?”

“I will not be responsible for any further inflation of your ego, thank you very much.” You mumble it as you take a sip of your soda, eyes on the table. Why is it so terrible to have him know you were leering at him?

Steve laughs loudly. He finally slides his arms back and off the table, giving you a temporary relief.

“You’re the only one who can inflate my ego, actually.” Steve counters, his brows raising. He steals a fry off your plate and chews it slowly.

You eye him over your cup, skeptical.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” He shrugs, swallowing his food. He takes a sip of his own milkshake, oh-so casual when he says, “Your opinion is the only one that really matters to me anyways.”

He grins across the table at you, a more mischievous shine in his eyes.

“Why do you think I picked this shirt?”

You’re equal parts mortified and enthralled at what he’s said. In your surprise, you accidentally inhale a bit of your soda and it burns as it goes down the wrong way— you cough awkwardly to clear it. Okay, less equal, more mortified now.

It’s your turn to ask. “What?”

Steve nudges your foot under the table again, teasing and flirting all in one. His pink lips curve into that grin that makes your heart flip flop— and there’s even a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. As though he’s also endeared but embarrassed by your attention.

“It’s your favourite.”

“It’s—” You splutter and for some reason, decide to lie. “No, it’s not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s—” You pivot mid-sentence. “Who told you?”

Steve laughs again, that big loud belly-laugh where his cheeks get all chipmunk-y cos he’s grinning so hard. When he stops laughing enough to talk, he’s reaching across the table. You’re not quick enough to pretend to avoid his hand as he snags it with his own.

“Baby,” he says. “Nobody had to tell me. I could just tell.”

Somehow when he says it like that, when he calls you baby in a voice all sticky with fondness, it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing at all.

You nudge him back under the table and sip your sofa again to try think of something to say. He knows what you look like when you love something. How terrifying. How intimate.

Another sip of soda. Steve rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, content to gaze you. His view is sweet enough he must have cartoon hearts circling above his head.

You can’t think of anything to say in the end, so you just squeeze his hand and nudge his foot again — and trust that he’ll just be able to tell what you mean.

[abyssalzones]

hi!! apologies if this has been asked/answered a million times before, but i'm curious about how you came to be the CEO of transfem stan.. obviously there doesn't need to be a "reason" for any trans hc, i do it myself all the time just for funsies, but i wasn't sure if you had some kind of analysis on or reasoning behind it. i don't think i've seen anyone hc it before and i love your work (art as well as writing) so yeah i wanted to ask!!! have a good one :-)

the CEO ??!?!? jeezzzz that's a lot of responsibility. do I get a desk plaque?

but no, unfortunately I haven't compiled a big work of analysis about this, if I'm honest I was taking a shower and thought absently "haha maybe estrogen would save her". and then started thinking about it a little deeper and went wait a minute. estrogen... WOULD save her.

if you're looking for 'reasoning' as in 'canon evidence', there's a lot of little things you could point to on the surface level: the whole duchess approves thing ("It's just like my life!... in a way"), the senior citizen ponytail kit gag, mullet as a compromise on having long hair (and the implications of having to eventually cut it to "pass" as a male character)... there's probably more but honestly that's not the point to me and not what I care about when it comes to "headcanons". It starts to feel a little goofy pointing at what are mostly jokes and going "look! Evidence!" when the basis I'm working off of is... very much not a joke.

so to tell you the truth, there are a lot of writing reasons why I really like transfem stan as a headcanon: I think it would suit her arc very well, it makes for a very interesting element to throw into her dynamic with ford, it creates a lot of mabel-stan bonding opportunities if you see them both as transfem (which... may or may not be the subject of a comic I'd like to make...), but plain and simple I just think it owns. I like the idea of a 60-something year old egg who starts transitioning after 30 years of pretending to be something she isn't, and can only now begin to have her own identity without shame breathing down her neck.

also butch women are very cool 👍

[zevrra]

hii!! i hope your doing well, im not sure if your requests are open rn

but if they are open, can you please write for Gaara (naruto) x fem reader who’s love language is physical touch? (hand holding, hugs, etc)

🫶 thank you!!

A Shared Touch—

tags: anon request, 18+ characters, gaara x fem!reader, pure fluff, gaara’s love language is 100% physical touch, this is so sappy and lovey dovey jshshs

creator notes: thanks for requesting! hope this is what you had in mind (bc i had no idea what to do im so sorry i wrote this at 2 am kshssjh)!! but i also hope you are doing well and that you enjoy this! thanks again!! ❤️

Sunlight warms your face as you sit at a wooden table. You sit in silence with yourself. Accompanied only by the sound of a soft breeze and a few chirping birds. A range of flowers sits before you, ranging anything from chrysanthemum to peons. Besides the flowers sits a pair of scissors. Using them to cut stems off of a few flowers here and there as you put together a small bouquet.

“What are you doing?” A soft voice asks from inside the doorway to the greenhouse you sit inside of.

Turning to look at the source of the voice and you find your loving boyfriend. A smile as warm as the sun shines on his face and you can’t help but mimic it. “I couldn’t sleep. Came here to do some arranging.” You respond. Watching fondly as he makes his way to your side.

He still wears the clothes he had slept in. He must have just woken up and upon finding your side of the bed came straight out to look for you. The sleepy was still in his eyes even as they look upon you with love.

A chilly hand touches your shoulder, moving to soothe across your neck. His teal eyes glance at your project before looking back at you. “They look as beautiful as you do.” Gaara compliments you.

For the years you had been together it took him quite a while to willingly touch you. Skin on skin contact had been one of his biggest fears. For so long, anytime your hand would reach for his; you were met with a wall of sand. Any brush of skin would have him standing frozen in place. He had never done any of it on purpose though and you knew that. It was pure reflex for the deeply traumatized man. Now it almost felt like he never wanted to stop touching you. To never let you go so he would never have to fear being truly alone again.

You wave his compliment off with a smile. It was too early to be so sappy. You set down your scissors to fully turn and face Gaara. “What about you?” You ask curiously as you grab hold of his hand gently. “Off to some important kage meeting I assume?”

Gaara shakes his head, lifting your hand to his lips and placing a small kiss against your skin. “No, not yet anyway. Just missed you.” He admits with a shy look. Glancing from your pretty face to the flowers you had gotten up that morning to work on.

It was truly a miracle how far the two of you had come. Once, so long ago, he would never have reached for you first. Would have distanced himself as far as he could. But now he sought you out first. Missed you simply because you were not by his side the moment you both woke up. It made you feel wanted and loved. You could only hope he felt the same.

You stand with the help of your boyfriend. Leaning in to kiss him and he meets you halfway more than eagerly. After you two part, he guides you towards the door he had entered from as you two plan to return to your shared home.

“Let’s go make some breakfast.” You offer. Your fingers intertwine with his, giving his hand a tight squeeze. A reassuring gesture that you would never let him go either.

You’d have to return to your flowers later.