#The Block Results

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Whatever the result is, I will attempt to recreate it as a drawing!

[zu-is-here]

Selfish request of Dreammare pls ?

Pygmalion

idea by @clownyclowns

Dream & Nightmare by jokublog

+ the perfect finger sketch :'D

[solacebean]

The Goat

[thiccsys]

can i be cured of art block?!!

[nikuttek]

somewhere near Erebor, they're taking a well-deserved break from their royal duties.

support me on ko-fi ♡

[mashollings]

CHELL

[kumeramen]

*Mutually driving each other crazy* (๑/////๑ " )

[disaster-j]

Can't fall asleep so I'll speak my truth

Yes bi Buck was meant to happen in s4 but it was CLEARLY BuckAlbert.

They were living together in what is basically a one room apartment with one bed. Chim tried to involve Albert in the unveiling of Buck's tragic backstory. Buck was unreasonably mad at Albert about the Veronica thing and no one, not even the viewers, could really understand it. If you compare that storyline with Buck, Bothered and Bewildered you will notice the obvious parallels to Veronica being an Eddie-esque red herring.

And don't even get me started on the Buckley-Han Dinner With The Parents.

Imagine how great it would've been. The two Buckleys with their Han men. The Buckley-Han family of five.

But then the fox execs decided to choose hate and said no so the writers had to let it go and make them say they were like brothers or something and that's how we got BuckTaylor end of s4 bc they'd run out of fresh options and she was around.

[earthdoves]

[artsyaprilmr]

слэй

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: by the fireplace, replica / timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

notes: pink pepper (top), chestnut accord (heart), vanilla (base)

description: embers of burning firewood, billowing smoke and flushing warmth

disclaimer(s): N/A

wc: 1.06k

warning(s): big fat super domestic makeout!!!!! slightly touchy so ig suggestive?? not sure but i think ushiwaka might be a little ooc at times oops... IDC this took THREE FUCKING REDOS im TIRED

Wakatoshi has always wanted a fireplace. The prospect of burning firewood crackling in a dimly lit room seeming like some infinitely gentle blanket is what he confesses to you in bed with his back pressed up against your chest, your hands squeezing and massaging at the knots in his shoulders.

"It would be nice, I like the smell of firewood." His head tilts back to meet your gaze, and you giggle, fingers pressing meitculously into the flesh of his back. The mattress dips when you squeeze a spot, just in the curve that connects his neck and his shoulders, as he finally loosens up with a content sigh, the tension in his body released in an instant.

"Fixed it?"

"Fixed it."

Wakatoshi smiles, leaning back into you until his entire body is sprawled on top of yours. He takes your hand, wrapped around his torso, and holds it tight against the little area of his chest that his heart occupies. His hair is a mess of olive green on your chest, disheveled as you run your other hand through it, pressing your fingers into his scalp and rubbing strands against each other between the pads of your fingertips. His heart beats steadily beneath your palm, and he sighs in satisfaction.

"What would you ever do without me?"

He breathes out a chuckle at your question, bringing your hand from his chest to his lips. His thumb plays with your knuckles, and your hand in his hair crawls down to his jaw, fingers tracing nothings into his cheek instead. You feel Wakatoshi's weight shift, rolling around to press his chest flush with your torso, his head resting in the dip of your ribcage. For somebody who wants a fireplace for the smell of firewood, he sure encapsulates it already, toasty spices and woody chestnuts filling your senses when he pulls himself up for a kiss.

Wakatoshi's father once told him what his name meant, to be young and to be sharp. Wakatoshi trains and plays with a wildfire in his eyes, smashes hits through opposing teams with blazing flames coursing through his body. Scalding passion, burning diligence, so hot that surrounding air burns away into suffocating smoke.

Yet his lips meet yours like the crackling of wood in a fireplace, nibbling at you softly like occasional sparks that fly out when things run a little too hot. The burning sting of his hands hitting leather volleyballs is nothing but a dull glow of warmth that emanates from his palms, spreading to your face from his fingers that push strands of hair from your forehead. His droning exhale sends tremors through your body, and when he parts his lips against yours, you can feel his fingers rolling and rubbing at the hem of his shirt that drapes over your frame.

Greedy, wanting more, like the radiating heat of fire that spreads across a cold room.

Your waist takes the shape of his palm when his hand slithers its way beneath your shirt, drawing circles into your skin. His knee presses into the mattress between your legs, holding himself up just enough to give your chest room to heave up and down in rhythmic rises and falls. His hand squeezes the flesh of your waist, the cold promise ring on his finger sending a jolt up your body. It pulls a sharp inhale from you, and rips a stutter from Wakatoshi's throat. The kind of stutter that begs for your lips to stay on his, and for your heart to push even harder against his own, until he's sure that they will never separate. A feverishly lovesick stutter, so much so that the heat of Wakatoshi's fire is spilling everywhere, with nothing to contain it.

When your hand joins his beneath your shirt, two rings come together with a metallic clink as your fingers meet Wakatoshi's, holding them tight between your knuckles. They follow his hand to the grooves of your ribcage, his thumb pushing gently into the underside of your chest. When he swallows the sigh of his name that escapes your lungs, Wakatoshi thinks that this must have been what he was made for. His fingers were made to swipe lines and etch shapes into your skin, his legs made to trap you in his embrace, his mouth made to press against yours for as long as you please.

He almost whines when your head pushes upwards, before detaching from him to breathe. Your other hand pulls his head towards you, his pulse pumping into your palm as you press your lips into his jaw, peppering kisses down to his neck. He hums at the sensation, lowering his body onto yours as he nuzzles his face into the pillow beside your head. Your fingers run through his hair, relishing in the softness of the strands that slip between your knuckles. His chest is flush against yours, head turning to press his nose against the side of your neck, where his mumbles send tingles down your spine as your hand shifts to hold his head close to you.

"Can't live without you. I love you."

In the darkness of your room, all that remain are Wakatoshi's soft exhales into your pulse as he drifts to sleep, one arm inside your shirt and the other laid above your head. You absentmindedly push a kiss into his head, and he shifts in his slumber, his lips curling into a serene smile. Beneath his eyelids, fleeting images of you pass by. The first time you cry out his first name instead of his last, the first time his lips learn of yours, the first time his blazing sharpness is mellowed out for something gentler. He watches you like some vintage film, shoved into the depths of his heart, not to be seen by any other eyes but his own.

"I love you too, Toshi. So much."

Wakatoshi is a wildfire, smoke and ash rising from his feet, sending people running from his blaze. You are the only person daring enough to be engulfed by his radiance, only to find that his inferno is mellow as a candle on a shelf, sweet as toasted vanilla pods, gentle as a paintbrush drawing outlines on a blank canvas. And although you're still open to getting the fireplace that Wakatoshi has always wanted, you think he's warm enough to beat out a fire any day.

author's note:

guys i really hope i did domestic ushiwaka justice because this took way too long to write up and i don't know why :( i legit had to rewrite like three whole times and i was about to smash my head into my laptop trying to keep going because im in a BLOCK it's super annoying BUT i needed ushiwaka brainrot and this was my take LOLOL

guys i love ushiwaka sm :(

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @akaakeis @iiwaijime @fiannee @afyrian @catsoupki

ok love u guys see u next fic bye bye

[lolguestwho]

So, umm.. sorry it took me month's to finnish..?🧍‍♂️ i definitely fvcked up so bad on the lineart here sjskd srry T-T

Here's the close up. Yup.. definitely fvcked up his face...

I swear the sketch is soo much better than the finnished one 🥲💀. Anyways sorry again for the long wait.. art block messed me up so bad. I'll do better next time.

[krissis-averted]

Ember

[hellsitegenetics]

hello i have a request about one of my treasured old posts. what sort of creature is HOGMAIL DOT CLOM ? thank you for your blasts

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Closest match: Medioppia subpectinata Common name: Mite

(image source)

[purplecatghostposts]

Adrien panicking after Cataclysming his father/Monarch: Félix, I need— can you please stop singing ‘He had it coming’?— I need help explaining this to Ladybug!

Félix, having the greatest day of his life: Oh, she’ll understand.

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

I am absolutely whispering right now shh

I know we think codependents are a bad on this webbedsite, but like. It is a thing that happens when you grow up trying to regulate someone's emotions, like a volatile parent. You know, like Charles did with his father (I know we all remember that heart breaking scene in the basement). He's a survivor.

I do not think it is a stretch to assume he's a little codependent still. He's clearly upset because he can't make Edwin feel better in the scene with the night nurse.

Usually, we can see he's taken on the role of trying to regulate both his and Edwin's emotions.

This is not me saying what he's doing is inherently bad, by the way- he's teaching Edwin valuable coping skills that he uses for his own emotions. The difference this and an actually dangerous dynamic that Edwin prioritizes Charles' well being as well, whereas his father or an actual, abusive enabler would not do so.

My point: moralizing that you only want "good" traits on your ship and ignoring experiences that Charles actually went through is like... weird? And also makes those of us who grew up like this and are recovering feel VERY strange about being called "bad" for the sake of your argument.

But you do you I guess.