#YOURE SO LOVELY AAAAA!!!!!!!

[anhonest-puck]

it does get better

oh my god. i needed this so so much nora, thank you love! 🥹🤍

[thatmooncake]

Day trip misadventures with Sun and Moon featuring @crabsnpersimmons <3

[abel-draws]

My faves should meet

[itsonlypolite]

What is your favorite vessel/princess?

It's so hard to choose, I love them all!! But when I first read this, two vessels popped in my head right away because they feel like they're straight out of my nightmares: The (Deconstructed) Damsel and the Drowned Grey

The metaphors! The visuals!! The horrifying tragedy of it all!!! <333

[sketchy-tour]

He has!!! ARIVED!!!!!

He's here he's here he's here!!!!!! Safe and sound!!! We sat down and did some coloring together!!!!

And also made sure he met his new neighbors! Had a nice chat with my childhood stuffed animal! Asking all about what his new home is like. And of course, he had to meet Boober Fraggle!

Watched some Winnie the Pooh together! I think he really liked it. I hope he felt warm and welcomed in my home. A nice and cozy first day here!

[pettyprocrastination]

Leg Day

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female Powerlifter!Reader

Summary: You first catch Art Donaldson's eye in the university gym when all you want to do is hit back and biceps before class, the tennis player finds himself quite caught in your physique.

Warnings: foul language, smut, oral (f receiving), Art eats pussy and likes your thighs a whole lot. Reader is described as muscular. One line describes reader as not looking like Tashi in terms of physique.

Word Count: 1k

Author's note: Forcing myself to get back into writing at the same time im forcing myself to get back to the gym :') take this lil ficlet as a sign of my love for those who still follow me on here lmaoo.

Art adored your thighs. 

You didn’t look like Tashi. Not that there was anything wrong with that in his mind, of course. But the physiques differed greatly. The star tennis player of Stanford had a lean build from her years of training and perfecting her sport. Long legs that covered the court in smooth strides and toned arms that delivered a vicious backhand. 

The same body he and Patrick had nearly shared that one fateful night in a dingey hotel room when they should have been sleeping before their match in the morning. The same body he had found his gaze lingering on a touch too long to be appropriate for his best friend's girlfriend. 

And the same body you called him out for drooling over in the campus gym when all you wanted to do was a simple arm workout before your 10 am. 

“So are you actually going to use the bench or are you just gonna sit on it and stare at her like a fucking creep for another twenty minutes?” 

You were not Tashi Duncan. 

Strong arms crossed over one another as you waited for him to either say something or move, neither of which his brain could comprehend as you stood before him expectantly. A powerful, if not a tad intimidating physique supported by thick, muscular quads built from years of lifting heavy in sweat-filled weight rooms since you were a little girl that grew tired of soccer. 

Then cheer. 

Then volleyball. 

The gymnastics. 

Powerlifting was the one sport that finally stuck. 

“It makes me feel strong.” You had explained your love for the sport to him one night. With his head laying in your lap, the textbook he had carried with him to your dorm under the excuse of needing help studying now laid discarded on your floor as he listened to your story. “Seeing how much I can lift, how it feels to finally make a weight you’ve been struggling with for so long. It feels like you’re proving something, you know? Especially when you’re one of the only girls in the weight room.” 

Art could feel the testament to your craft under him. The thick corded muscle of your quads beneath his head as your fingers carded through his hair absentmindedly. Legs that were hugged by every pair of shorts you wore or hidden beneath the same pair of Stanford sweatpants whenever you felt a chill in the air. He found himself dreading the coming of winter as the two of you began to spend more time together. 

He wasn’t sure when the admiration began to shift into something deeper, slowly turning from one athlete showing respect for another’s commitment to their sport into a hormonal college freshman staring at your ass in spandex shorts each time he bumped into you at the campus gym. 

What he did know was that the night he finally found himself between your legs was one he would never forget. How quickly the pair of you shed your clothes in one anothers embrace, turning your room into nothing more than a collection of discarded study packets and kicked off Stanford merch telling the story that Art would no doubt replay in his mind for the entirety of winter break. 

The soft smile on your face as he crawled on top of you, pressing fervent kisses to every inch of your body that you would allow him access. How he memorized each microscopic reaction, that a kiss to your neck would make you giggle but turn into a shuddering gasp if he dug his teeth into the skin. How you softened in his arms when he ran his tongue along the scar lining your hip, one he would have to ask you about someday. 

But dear God, he could write poetry about your legs. 

The feeling of them wrapping around his head while he lapped at your cunt with tentative kitten licks that soon turned into devouring you with a desperation that could no doubt be heard through the walls. Your muscles twitching and trembling from his touch as you cried out his name with an arched back and scrambling hands, desperately trying to reach him until you found purchase in his soft curls, gripping just tight enough to verge on being painful. His own moans mixing with yours, poor bastard getting so lost in giving you pleasure he didn't even realize when he began to grind his hips into your mattress, desperately searching for a release while helping you reach your own. 

To hear your voice pitch into an airy whine as your thighs tightened around his head. Tighter and tighter as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm, hips twitching against his mouth still working away against your dripping cunt in a way that verged on being gluttonous until you pulled him away with a sharp tug on his hair. 

In the aftermath, a silence settled over the two of you like a soft blanket. Spit-slicked lips laid feather-light kisses against the still twitching muscles of your thighs, pressing against the blooming bite marks that he knew would just barely peek out from the cuff of your shorts you wore during your morning training sessions. A minuscule stake of claim that he had no business branding you with given that he was too chickenshit to take you out on a real date. 

Had you opened your eyes, you’d see that his were already trained on you with a softness you weren’t yet ready to see. Admiring the rise and fall of your chest with a faint smile on his face and the desire to take you out properly. To scrounge up enough money from his bank account after the room & board payments bleed him dry to some small burger shop or maybe the local theater to see you outside of the walls of your dorm or the university gym, wearing something nice and laughing at his jokes before kissing him goodnight. To sit in the stands of his next match as his girlfriend and congratulate him on his win with an overly obnoxious kiss that he would swear was humiliating but made him preen under your praise like a peacock during mating season. To do all of the downright nauseatingly romantic bullshit every nineteen year old boy wanted to do with the girl he was too afraid to actually make a move on. 

But not yet. 

“Have you ever considered wrestling? You’ve got a killer leg lock.”

[httpiastri]

Current fixation is Paul's jewelry. Specifically him giving you his jewelry to keep safe during a race.

oh. my. GOD. this is such a sweet idea, im crying. you're a genius anon. i'm also very much obsessed with his jewelry, but this idea…. 😭

as we know, he's got so many bracelets… and so many rings… usually, he goes through his routine of taking them all off a long time before the race, storing them in his little box in the team's truck. but one day, it has just slipped his mind and suddenly he's standing by the car, all ready to jump in, when he realizes that he's still wearing them all. it's far too late to go back to the truck now, so he gets nervous for a second – before he remembers that you're there.

a confused look grows on your face when he walks up to you in the garage – he's supposed to prepare for the race, what's he doing? – but then, he grabs one of your wrists, holding the hand up towards him and opening it. he starts sliding his rings down his fingers, placing them into the palm of your hand. then, he takes off his bracelets, one by one, which takes a lot of time as he's got about millions of those fan bracelets. when he's finally done, he folds your hand, wrapping both of his hands around it. he looks at you softly, and tells you: "keep them safe for me."

you nod, your frown morphing into a smile instantly. and lastly, when his hands let go of you, he reaches to the back of his neck, unclasping his necklaces and taking them off him – before reaching towards your neck, putting them on you. then he presses a quick peck to your temple, before hurrying off to his car again while being scolded by his engineer about not being in the car already.

[missdarhk]

I just poured two huge buckets of angst onto Athena :(

I dream of the day. I dream of the day you'll come to my inbox and just say "I made Athena happy :D"

"I just poured two huge buckets of love onto Athena 🥰"

"I made Athena have a great time!"

"I just wrapped Athena in a little blanket and made her have a cozy game night with the Ithacan fam, and gave her hot cocoa and some cookies <3"

"I gave Athena happy memories 🥹"

but noOooOooOoo

I'm already unwell after the ithaca saga eve IM ON THIN ICE HERE PLS WORK WITH ME I CANT KEEP DOING THIS ANYM-

[r1ver-6]

Psych-os,

You ever think about the fact that Shawn’s advice for dating is, “You treat a woman like a person, then a PRINCESS, then a Greek goddess, then a person again…”

And

Gus has the line, “I’m nobody’s pawn, Shawn. I’m a QUEEN.”

Anyone else think about that or is it just me?

[uhohbestie]

Hullo Hullo!!! I also decided to send unfinished wip to you guys cause even if i couldn’t finish i really like the progress i made on it :D

HELLO WHAT!!! BONUS CONTENT!!!!??

God, the emotion and action and lighting in this is AWESOME. I Love the aggression in Grian's face while Pops jumps back (Pops retreating but not attacking.... the expression on his face....), and Scar having to cope with the reality of what loving and supporting Grian is going to look like from now on. This is so great, I really love how perfectly it's showing the conflict here, and I just loooooove the way you draw!

Thank you for spoiling us AGAIN aaaaaa. We're so lucky!!! THANK YOU! :D <3 <3

[stars-n-spice]

My lunch arrived :)

Screaming crying throwing up.

@blackseafoam THESE ARE AMAZING AAAAAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

And the little Wrecker helmet doodle :')

Oh my god, I love these so much, I almost don't want to put them anywhere AAAAAAA I'm in love!!!

Love love love love!!

Thank you!!! 🩵

This has been a PSA to go and buy sticker sheets from @blackseafoam Do it do it do it

[losver07]

was working on my wip and realised this scene is so wolfstar coded so ummm here ya go (sorry in advance for the awful translation lol)

also this is veeery long so i'm putting most of it under the cut

tw: mention of death, harsh(ish) lenguage

★

"Then came the ambulance and the police,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed somewhere in the room, mind showing him once again the image of Sirius' tired smile. "They gave me a blanket. I felt stupid in it."

John, observing him with deep eyes, full of compassion, nods. Remus figures he can't show it, the pity. That it's part of his job not being able to say Oh, you poor thing and that, instead, he must be professional. And it's not that John is bad at it, at hiding what he thinks; it's just the eyes.

It's impossible to lie with one's eyes. Sirius' always shine, even if he insists on wearing the blackest clothes.

Shined. Not anymore. And he doesn't dress in black anymore, it's Remus who has to mourn now, instead of him. And for him.

"How are you feeling?" the psychologist asks, and Remus makes an effort not to cry.

"I don't know," he answers, honest. He doesn't know what words to use. "Bad."

Not enough. John gestures at him to keep talking, to elaborate. He always does that. It's cruel.

Remus looks down at a ring he takes off his finger, and proceeds to watch it turn in his hands as he fidgets with it. It was Sirius'. Everything he owns was either his or reminds him of him in some way. Even the smallest of things, the silliest of details.

If only he could get rid of it all. If only he knew that'd make him forget.

"It's like I don't really believe this is real,” he says, without lifting his gaze from the steel ring. It's carved in a checkered pattern, a chess board that extends and hugs the owner's finger like a ribbon. It's not excessively visible but, if you brush your finger against the metal, you can feel the shapes against your skin, kissing your fingertips like he once did. That feels like so long ago, though. “I... I'm sad, obviously, but also angry. I think it was selfish of him."

Before it had been his, Sirius', the ring had belonged to Regulus. It had been silver then. Sirius turned it into steel when he'd received it from his brother, who got it from their father, whose father had gifted him it, and so on. It must be hundreds of years old.

"Selfish?"

He'll probably ask to be buried with it. If it's not worn on his left hand, it will be trapped on a chain around his neck.

"Yeah, I dunno," he shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain himself. He knows how he feels, he just finds it difficult to believe that anyone could understand it. He tries anyway. "He's gone and he's left us all here as if we didn't have enough problems of our own," he says. "Like, now I have to be myself, which is already tough enough, and also be him for James and Peter and Harry and... Oh, God, Harry..." He shuts his eyes. He needs to breathe. He closes his hand over the ring, and looks at John. "But I need him too. And I don't have him. I don't have anyone to treat me like he did. So, I don't know."

The therapist nods again. When he started the sessions, Remus thought it was weird that John didn't take any notes, like in the movies. It might sound stupid, but he imagined someone constantly writing on a notepad, making a record of every word that came out of his mouth.

It turns out John only uses his notebook to write dates and appointments down; that he actually listens to what he says, instead of analysing every sentence as if it were a mathematical problem.

He's been lucky, and he knows it. At least in this, he's been lucky.

"Do you feel responsible for what happened?" He asks, and Remus thinks about it for a second. Now that the unease has lessened, he's left with just the cold on the tip of his nose and the metal on his fingers. He misses hugging Sirius on cold days like this one.

"Yes," he answers. No point in lying.

John stares at him. Elaborate, he's probably thinking. He always looks at him like that when he wants to make Remus talk.

"I'm the one who was supposed to take care of him," he says then. "And, instead of that, what I did was use him to make him help me with my shit. And even after he's gone I'm still whining about him not being here to give me cuddles. I don't know. Maybe I'm the one who's being selfish.

The psychologist, whose diploma is Remus now observing, makes a face.

"Wanting love is not selfish, Remus," he says, so soft and kind it almost makes Remus feel small, vulnerable and about to break. Or already broken.

"But taking the love away from someone and keeping it to yourself is," he objects.

"You think that's what you did? Taking the love from him?"

"I don't know," he says, and before John can ask him to explain, he continues: "I think maybe if I'd made things right he'd still be here."

The air is still for a few seconds, both in the room and in the street across the window, as well as inside of Remus' lungs, who holds his breath in an attempt to make the ache on his chest go away. It doesn't work.

"It wasn't your fault that he suffered," Josh tells him, but he's been told so many lies he doesn't need to think to detect the lie.

"But it was that he didn’t stop suffering," he tells Mr Too Good For Taking Notes. He should've had that noted. "I should've done something. It's what I'd to have done."

John, wanting to understand but being apparently incapable of it, furrows his brows a bit. The expressions only last a second, and is not even that exaggerated, but Remus sees it anyway. The doubt.

"You think it was your purpose?" He asks. He acts interested. Sometimes he almost even makes Remus forget that he's paid for what he does. That he wouldn't be there if it weren't for the money. That he's got better things to do than...

"Helping him?" Remus asks, trying not to sound too aggressive, but probably failing. "Yes."

"And do you think you were, say, destined to save him?"

"Yes," he agrees. A bit cheesy his personal taste, but, yes, that's what he believes. Why lie, if he's not going to write it down, even.

"But, if it was destiny, how could you have avoided it?"

That feels like a boot to the stomach. He doesn't quite know wether it confuses him or it makes him angry but, either way, he doesn't know what to answer. Perhaps not having thought of it earlier is what irritates him and puts him, once again, in front of a mirror in which a disappointment shines.

He thinks for a bit. Then speaks.

"Trying harder," he says. "Being better."

"No, Remus; is not about trying," his confidant tells him, with a smile that could either indicate complicity or compassion. "You did all that you could, and more. And, still, you couldn't change it, nor can you now."

For some reason, that hurts. Rather, it stings. Both in his open wounds and his sore eyes.

"And what do I do?" He asks. His voice doesn't seem to want to know the answer, as it doesn't cooperate in making itself heard. He swallows and takes a deep breath, letting Sirius' ring slide back into his finger, where it should always have stayed.

"Think about what you did achieve," John offers, so careful it seems almost meticulous. "You made him happy for a time, you gave him peace. You made him feel safe, too. Confident. You helped each other. That's good."

"But he's dead," Remus says. He's not sure he's used that word since it happened. It's not likely, seeing how much it hurts pronouncing it. He's spent over a month circling around and avoiding one of those damned words, the ones that feel like mines in an already ruined field. He presses his lips and looks at John, cheeks wet with rivers of salty water. "That's bad."

"Yes," the therapist agrees. "That is bad."

[thatmooncake]

Happy Halloween @moon-buggg ! 🎃 I was your secret skeleton, had a blast drawing your Haunted House AU gang!

[rizdoodls]

how-

how about checking your strawpage?

🍄∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

Oh?oh? :D Strawp-..HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!🤯💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

OMG OMG AAAAA OMG OMG JADITO?!?¿?!😳😳😳💓💕💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💝💝💝 *convulses*

OMG OMG OMG LAVENDER WHAT???😳😳😳🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯💥💥💥💥 *convulses x2*

AAAA THEY'RE ADORABLE>♡<💞💕💞💕💞💕💞 *DIE*

THEY'RE SO ADORABLE AAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH HAGI 🤯💕💕💕💕💕💕

I am s-...

...

...

!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAA!!!!🤯🤯🤯🤯

HAGI HEART!!! AAAA HAGI ILY SO MUCH SO MUCH MUCH MUCH AAAAAAA 💟💖💞💗💕💕💞💗💕💓💕💖💕💕💗💝💝💝💝

I love you so much that the black particles multiply and turn into hearts and stars !!!♡♡♡

[merakiui]

hey :) nice to meet I don’t know where to start, but hey I was inspired by your work on yandere, a/b/o, Floyd!! about the circle with chalk :D in fact, it’s so funny that I couldn’t help but giggle while reading your work, I liked it so much, I would like to know if anything will happen to our cute leech 🤟😼 he's so funny when he opens his mouth, but Y/N is still in his protective barrier, apparently he really can't violate your space (probably should have drawn him crying, hahaha, just kidding~~or maybe…) I hope I wrote everything correctly, for understanding, I apologize if something is written wrong, English is not my native language, but this does not stop me from following your work!! good luck aaaand tell me what you think about this mini-comic🤗💕

OMG THIS IS SO CUTE!!!!!╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ the chalk circle!!! Floyd who looks so hopeful and excited, only for darling to be Not Into It is so silly. I love it. 🥺💖💖 he just wants his shrimpy to feel comfortable enough to love and tolerate him and his presence one day… cheering for you, Floyd!!! He's so sweet and patient. Filled with lots of love for shrimpy. 🫶🦐

The way you've drawn Floyd is also really lovely!!! I adore his expressions. He's too cute! >w< thank you for drawing such a wonderful masterpiece!!! It's an adorable comic. I want to hold it in my heart forever!! (⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

And your English is very good!! I could understand everything clearly!! :D

[pomniegranate]

CAN I JUST HYPE ABOUT THIS ART @jaxasstm MADE FOR ME??? ❤️💙