#You all asked and i delivered

[qqueenofhades]

my mom was defeatist when she found out biden dropped out of the race, but i told her i was having hope. seeing the posts about the donations rolling in, i think my hope is well placed

Hold your ground! HOLD YOUR GROUND!

Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day!

An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down -- but it is not this day! This day we fight!

By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!

[arttsuka]

Draw Jedediah (Night at the Museum) being mistaken by Loki (MCU) as Mobius M. Mobius

[nofr1lls]

IF YOU ARE BRAVE

[starflungwaddledee]

oc ask meme time hi

i am SO SO sure someone's asked this already but in the small chance no one has... i am so curious: 🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

additionally 🛡️💜🕸️< any of these if you'd like!

[ >>> kirby oc ask meme <<< ] fourth time i've been asked this one and i've already buck passed on it, so you know what.... i decided to bite!!!

just for you, because you asked so nicely 💖

🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

i think the circumstances for a soul form to happen to her would be near impossible, but not entirely. i think this would be nothing less than a catastrophic printer error. i think it would be bad!! i think it is not supposed to happen, and if it ever did it would be really, really bad. i am not at all confident you'd ever get her back. attacks would not be necessary. i think i'm hardly skilled enough for this and that there should be at least three more rings (i couldn't make it work) and possibly some other things going on, but here's my best estimate:

[deoidesign]

Wait wait wait, I saw in your tags that's Time and Time Again is ending soon? But I've only just found it! (through the animation you did, it and your comic are so well done)

Ah, yeah.

So by "soon" I really mean "sooner than I think I would like" and it feels much sooner to me as the writer than I think it will to you all as the readers.

But, Time and Time Again is pretty much exactly 2/3 of the way through right now. Webtoon gave me the end date before I even finished my first season, and I've been trying to fit in all the things I wanted to get into the story before it ends...

It's why my hiatus has been taking so long, I'm trying to write to get as many moments and as much development as I possibly can, with really limited time! And... also admittedly to prolong how much longer it's sort of "around" in my life.

Because I know once it is over, I'll move on to the next comic! and 3 years just doesn't feel long enough to have Adam and Steve in my life haha

But, yeah. it's getting "close" in a way that it's starting to make me sad. like this time next year it'll probably be over.

It's okay of course, it's the nature of stories that they will end. I'm working really hard to make it satisfying despite Everything, and I'm really proud of everything I've done so far.

And my next comic will be even better for what I've learned here!

So, sorry to everyone, but I promise I'm gonna make it worth it.

[desceros]

Mr. LEON (think late 30's/early 40's) reuniting with his spouse after a long time away. It's sweet, it's silly, it's followed by absolutely nasty half-clothed, sweaty sex.

me, asks for rise leo prompts, instantly regrets it also i'm not saying this is a tactical!leo fic, but i'm also... not NOT saying it leonardo/reader, EXPLICIT, female reader, 2.6k; leo comes back and wants to smell like home again. filthy nasty smut, soft doki dokis, lame married people jokes, one (1) defiled couch

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, you don’t think twice when you see the rustle of your curtains. Not when you’ve finally, finally trained your stupid heart into not thundering out of your chest when you see it, thinking he’s back when it’s just the breeze. Today, you hardly even glance at them as you continue watering your plants, unbothered, humming, unsuspecting.

It’s so, so typical of him to wait until now to come home.

“Boo!” 

Your scream fills the apartment as you flail, pulse rocketing to the atmosphere in panic when you’re very suddenly not alone. Hands catch you mid-flinch, and it takes you a second to realize that your assailant is, in fact, perfectly safe and didn’t deserve the mighty swing of your watering can. 

Except actually, yes he did, this little asshole—!

“Leo!” you wail, letting him gather you close and press him to his plastron. Your hands clutch at the edge of his keratin, face burrowing in his throat. “You fucking asshole, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Couldn’t resist,” he says, his laughter still rolling at the crown of your head as one hand spreads into your lower back to press you close and the other cups your nape. “You just looked so cute, y’know? My adorable little wifey, wearing my shirt and humming in our living room.”

“Stop talking,” you mutter sulkily, wrapping your arms around his neck and swallowing the tears you feel burning at your eyes as happiness swells in your chest like a mighty wave. He always makes fun of you for crying when he comes home, and you’re already a little miffed. 

Your ire dies as you feel him nuzzling behind your ear with his beak, his lungs expanding as he inhales your scent. He’d confessed to you once, a few years into your marriage, that this was his favorite part of coming home; more than the sex, more than the home-cooked meals, more than sleeping in the same bed two nights in a row. He caresses the line of your throat with his beak, stitching your natural perfume back into place in his mind, sinking into you because it’s not the walls around you that he calls home.

“…Missed you,” he murmurs, making you sigh as he brushes lovesick kisses to your shoulder. 

“You were gone too long this time,” you tell him, lowering one arm to press a palm to his plastron when you feel his lips seeking more skin, letting him pull the neckline of his shirt away from your clavicle. “Thought you were the breeze, coming in.” 

His mouth curves into something filthy at the dip of your throat, his hands finding your hips and giving them a squeeze. “Yeah? Funny. I plan on coming in something, all right.”

You laugh way too hard, a little mortified that after all these years you still find this clown funny at the lamest lines. Worse still is how he watches you do it, his face going stupid with naked fondness like making you laugh is the best thing he’s done all day.

“You are such an unfunny loser, oh my god,” you say, pressing your forehead to his. 

“And yet you’re still laughing,” he says, his smile widening when you roll your eyes. 

“I’ve been stockholmed,” you tell him, reaching up your hands to cup his beak and pull him into a kiss. 

Leo has always been good with his mouth, in every way, all the years you’ve known him. His kisses are no exception; seconds into it you’re purring, the sweet friction of his mouth against yours warming you from the inside, parting on a soft sigh when a hand grips your nape and tilts you just so. 

“I wanna fucking eat you alive,” he mumbles against your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours once, twice, three times before he sinks his teeth into your lower lip and tugs. You tremble, and you know he feels it as his hands go a little tighter. “Missed you.” 

Your fingers find the tails of his mask, tangling in them and using them to pull his face away, just a little. He growls, but you ignore him easily. “Don’t you want to take a shower, baby? Get comfy while I cook you something to eat? You smell like work.”

“I know,” he says, his other hand sliding down to the cloth shorts that are barely visible beneath the hem of his shirt, his fingers gliding up the back to cup the curve of your ass. “And I wanna smell like you, now.”

…He gets like this, sometimes, when he comes home. Touchy. Possessive. You’ve always wondered if it has to do with how he doesn’t smell himself on you when he’s been gone, or if it’s because you start wearing his clothes like he’ll feel it wherever he is. The longer the separation, the worse he gets. 

The worse he gets, the better it is.

“Yeah? You wanna smell like me?” you echo as you trail your touch along the red crescents prettying his face, playing into his turtle-brain, feeling your eyelids close as his fingers flutter on your skin. Oh, he wants it bad. “What do I smell like, handsome? I smell good?” 

“So fucking good,” he groans, his huge hand releasing your nape to grip your jaw, pulling you into a kiss that’s wet and deep. It feels good, claws a mangled moan from your chest that has him mirroring the sound himself. He pulls his head back, pressing his thumb to the corner of your mouth and sliding it under your lower lip where you feel the slick mess of his kiss. “…Open,” he says, making your lip pucker under his touch. 

You obey, watching his pupils dilate as they lock onto your mouth, then your tongue when you let it press against the pad of his thumb where he’s holding you open.

“Shit. You’re so hot,” he says, a wounded rumble that makes your lips curl into a coquettish smile before you wrap them around his thumb, sucking and lathing it with your tongue, pressing your teeth in and closing your eyes when you hear him moan. 

“Not gonna smell much like me by staring at my mouth,” you tell him when you let him go, your hooded eyes meeting his as you smile.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he wheezes, and with three steps he’s got you splayed on your couch, the weight of him pinning you to the cushions while his mouth fucking devours you. All you can do is hold on, one hand tangling in his mask tails and the other clutching as his carapace, crushed and absolutely thrilled about it.

When he breaks the kiss to grip his hands in your shorts, pulling them down, you laugh, drawing his hungry gaze even as he doesn’t stop disrobing you. 

“What?” he asks, mouth going just a little crooked in a smile of his own as you shake your head, staring at him adoringly. 

“Just love you,” you tell him, shifting your legs to help him out a bit and biting down on a grin when you can finally spread them and slink your knees to either side of his hips. You slip one of your arms over your head to grip one of the throw pillows, your other trailing down your throat to entice.  “C’mon, pretty boy. Let me see you drop.”

Leo maintains the stare as he straightens his spine, his hands going to his belt buckle to slide it out of place with a metal clink. The button is quick to follow, and when he unzips and slides his pants down just enough for his cloaca to glisten in the afternoon sunlight, you press your fingers to your mouth, tongue instinctively seeking contact. 

“God, look at you,” you whine, your thighs rising to cup his hips and squeeze. “I wanna lick you. Come up here?”

He shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into your open mouth and pressing on your tongue. “Later, baby. If you want a show, you’ve got, like, thirty seconds for it.” 

Moaning, you soak his fingers with your spit, watching with hazy eyes as he brings them to his cloaca and slides in to the knuckle. He’s always rougher with himself than you are with him, even though he’s told you again and again he prefers it when you’re the one fingering him. 

He makes pretty little gasping moans as he fingers himself hard, his arm flexing and drawing your hungry gaze. He’s gotten so god damned big over the years, making you feel small every time he does something that highlights the difference. It feels good, makes you feel kept, protected. So long as Leonardo Hamato draws breath, no harm will ever come to you, a promise he has the strength to keep.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grunts, eyes squeezing shut as the slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of himself get wetter. It’s a familiar sound that makes you ache, craving the thick cock you know is about to slide out like it’s air. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, Leo,” you babble in praise, knowing he likes to hear it, that you like telling him. “Handsome as fuck. God, I can’t believe you’re mine, that you let me see you like this—”

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing his cloaca to your cunt, his wet fingers gripping at your hips as he rubs your slick against his. “You can’t talk like that, baby, I’m gonna—”

He cuts himself off on a low groan, his hips rolling against yours and his tail pressing hard between your thighs to garner the friction. It feels so good, so fucking good, your skin burning hot with each messy glide of him against you. Your head rolls, fingers gripping in the pillow behind your head and back arching to try and writhe closer. 

“Leo,” you keen, breath heaving when he releases his death grip on the back of the couch to plant his hand by your head, his back arching over you and blocking everything else out. 

“Don’t come, don’t you dare come,” he hisses, lips curled into a bit of a snarl. “Not until I’m inside, understand?” 

Eyes wet, you nod, choking back the shimmer on your skin that builds as he keeps rubbing cruelly. With one particularly good roll of his hip, you snatch a hand to his bicep, trembling. “Stop, stop—!”

He pauses, letting you claw away from the brink to obey. Sucking in a long breath, you open your eyes and see that he’s staring at you like he’s gone mad. 

“Okay?” he asks, voice fucked out, and you nod, whining when he resumes rubbing his cloaca against you, your eyes falling shut and head lolling to the side as you start the burning process all over again. 

“Feels so good, Leo,” you breathe, skin glowing when you feel him duck in close and glide his tongue up the side of your neck. You’re soaked all over with sweat and slick, every muscle in your body trembling from taut desire that’s just shy of too-much, leaving you delirious and stupid.

With a hitched breath, Leo reaches between you, fingers preparing you for the familiar penetration you want more than anything else. With a hiss, his body goes taut, his cock dropping and sliding inside like his katana into its sheath; like you were made for him, perfectly molded, expertly designed. 

“God, fuck,” he wheezes, his forearms framing your face as he leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss that breaks on a low moan. He pumps his hips against yours slowly, shaking with each breath that has him bottoming out where he belongs. “You feel so—I missed you.” 

Floating with pleasure, you cup his nape, wrapping your legs around him as best as you can to pull him deeper, needing to feel him in your throat. Your hands find the back of his head, sliding easily on his rough, sweat-slick skin, seeking his kiss and finding it. “Oh, Leo, love you, love you so much.”

He marries his mouth to yours as he fucks in in in, feeling a bit like he never pulls out for how full he leaves you. Every neuron in your body stands at attention, taking note of his weight crushing you, the smell of his salty skin, the taste of his tongue as it curls against your own. 

“Look at me, look at me when you come, pretty girl,” he chokes, because he knows your body better than you do and can tell you’re close before you feel it. You open your eyes and meet his, untying his blue mask and letting it slide to your chest right as you feel your orgasm rising. 

“Leo, gonna come,” you whimper, watching as he nods, one hand finding your cheek, his thumb tracing under your eyes where they’re wet. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel it.” 

Like you do with everything else, you obey and come. It’s a long, wrenching thing, the pleasure washing over you like waves of a mighty ocean as he keeps moving, prolonging it, intensifying it. On and on it goes, your body awash with ecstasy and Leo, always Leo, there to hold you and let you fall. 

“Please,” you gasp, clenching at his carapace, begging him to meet you here in the glow. “Leo, please—” 

His hand drops down to your throat, fingers ever so slightly curling around as his hips thrust a little harder, the wet sounds of your hips meeting loud in your ears now that you’re listening for it. It’s filthy, his mouth hanging open and eyes going wild as they gaze at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. 

With a wounded sound he comes, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and hand going a little too-tight on your throat as he fills you over and over again, each hot thread coating and claiming in equal measure. You let one hand grip the back of his wrist where he’s choking you, crushing him in harder as he groans and presses into you even further as he finishes, watching as the edges of your vision go a little hazy before he releases you and lets you suck in a gasp of air. 

After a few moments of catching your breath, he picks up his head, his beak wrinkling a bit as he stretches his leg out with a hiss. “Gah, fuck, we’re getting too old for couch fucking. Made a fucking mess.”

“Never too old for couch fucking,” you rasp, causing his eyes to fall to where there’s a mark on your throat in the shape of his hand. He licks his lips, and you feel his cock give an interested twitch. “Oh? You gonna make good on that?”

“Too old for back-to-back marathon fucking,” he pouts, though he does arch his hips once in a good sport try that makes your skin light up a bit. “Gimme like, fifteen. I’ll eat you out while we wait, then we can do something about it.” 

You raise an imperious eyebrow. “Fifteen minutes of you eating me out? You? Leonardo Hamato? Only fifteen? I can’t believe an imposter of my husband is here when I was so sure it was him.”

He grins, a boyish thing that makes him look younger and captures your heart all over again. “…Yeah, okay. Let’s be ambitious and say half an hour.”

You settle into the couch, waiting for his cock to retreat back into his cloaca and spending the meantime trailing your fingers along the back of his nape, sighing out in delight. 

“…I missed you, too,” you tell him, watching as his face smooths out and every concern flies away like a butterfly startled by the breeze because he loves you so, so much and you know it. Then, realizing you hadn’t said it yet, “…Welcome home, Leo.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, bending down and nuzzling his beak against your temple, inhaling deeply with a smile. “I’m home.”

[mochinon-yah]

Lol guys, i just imagined Modern! Sunday needing to comb his hair, wash his face and maybe put on some light make up (he learned it from Robin!), a lip balm too so his lips won't look dry, and maybe a suit... all because he needed to get a package outside his house.

Delivery Person: "Package!"

Modern! Sunday, with his clean and ironed white suit, walking out of the house because he was already expecting a package today: "It's for Sunday, right?"

Delivery Person, mesmerized by the beauty of this angel-like person: "O- oh, yes... sir."

OR

Another scenario where Modern! Sunday was so tired from his job, needing to lay down on the couch, but suddenly hearing somebody shouted "Package!" outside his house. Grumbling, he took a simple jacket and walked out. With a smile that could possibly blind a person, he greeted the delivery person and took the package.

[lovvecherrymotion]

*knocks on your door*

Good morning! Do you have a second to talk about our lord and saviour Jesus Chr- BoNace?

oh, do i have a minute to discuss bonace???

[re-colligere]

The Gene Archives: General Art

Inside Out art that aren't shippy and such! No specific topics except for my fusions, so have fun. These are mostly from the height of my fixation (2015-2016), with some as recent as 2017-2018.

Fashion Disaster | Other Ships

First evar inside out fanarts I THINK? Fear's was made in February of 2015. Sadness and Anger were made in March. I redrew these three HERE!

Drawn and finished when the movie finally premiered where I am. August 2015

The arguerrrrrrs, 2015 and 2016 redraw. Really loved these two drawings, and I think the second one was drawn when I just got my drawing tablet AKJDHF

This was for some contest on DA I think, during Halloween.

Just some random doodles!

These were fanarts for an Inside Out fic I really loved, called Out of Place by Coffee Fueled Author! Unfortunately it's unfinished but I reread it for the first time in years and it's still really good. AUGH

A couple of sadnesses, teehee :] The last one was a "stained glass"-esque project with cellophane and illustration board that i never finished. I still have it with me. I probably should finish this actually..

Girls in flower dresses. Disgust's was made first, I think Joy and Sadness's were made at the same time. Wedding moments?

Me and my emotions from 2017, originally for a DA contest. I've been MEANING to make a lineup of my own emotes... I just can't decide how they'll Look....

This was drawn during the 3rd anniversary of the 1st movie coming out :]

Humanization lineup from 2018 that I never posted anywhere I don't think? Mostly because I wasn't really happy with the designs I gave them at the time, pfft. It really took me this long to find the designs I'm satisfied with LMAO

FUSIONS

Oh my god these designs. These were the first few fusions I made! From left to right: Aversion (Fear/Disgust), Thrill (Joy/Fear), Awe (Joy/Disgust), Contempt (Anger/Disgust), Hesitation (Fear/Anger), Disappointment (Anger/Sadness).

More pixel fusions. First one is Passion (Anger/Joy). I uh have No idea who the second one is, I THINK that's Joy/Sadness but I'm legitimately not sure - they're the only pair here without a fusion if that's not the case. I think the two fusions beside Contempt are Pensive and Anxiety, who are Both Fear/Sadness fusions? and next to them is Shame, Sadness/Disgust.

Some animated pixel dolls from 2016! Aversion, Frustration, and Melancholy. I wanted to update the designs to match my current tastes. I was planning to do all of them but, I lost steam trying to animate so much stuff, so...

...I made this lineup instead! From left to right: Thrill (Joy/Fear), Contempt (Anger/Disgust), Awe (Joy/Disgust), Melancholy (Joy/Sadness), Aversion (Fear/Disgust), Frustration (Anger/Sadness), Passion (Joy/Anger), Anxiety (Fear/Sadness), Hesitation (Fear/Anger), Shame (Sadness/Disgust).

[genericpuff]

me getting an ask in my inbox laying out every single brush that rachel uses in her backgrounds including indie brushes that aren't a part of her usual adobe kyle webster kit, only to download and test them and find that they're all 100% correct:

[hydrachea]

Oh the polycule is so real to me.

[reactionimagesdaily]

Wait, you're younger than me?? Granted only by a year but still???

This ask sent me down a time-based rabbit hole that prompted me to check when exactly I started this blog, and it turns out I've been running this thing for pretty much my entire adult life, so. I guess we're BOTH having existential crises today

[lexumpysfunland]

OKAY If I'm smart enough to count there's 7 narrator variants but only 6 Stanley's

(and I'm just gonna assume "lonely Walter" is the one lacking a protagonist)

So, what happened

your logic is right, Lonely Walter has no Stanley. His Stanley was killed by his sister Aayla (curator), as a result of a yelling match they had. Aayla killed Stanley before Walter's eyes and since then he has never been the same.

I will explain a little more about him in a future ask I have to respond to... :)

[f-imaginings]

in terms of inspiration and such does it feel easier or more difficult to write as you inch closer and closer to weirdmageddon? or has it made no notable difference? you’ve been working on this story for so long so i imagine it must feel kinda strange to be getting so close to what might be the end of it!

-----------------

Another wonderful question!! You are so good at these!

I think my inspiration to write is more closely correlated to the comments and feedback I get for the story, so the more people who tell me they enjoy it, the more it inspires me to write, and I've had a wonderful abundance of attention since BOB so I am being spoiled every day by nice words. I think my drive to finish the fic is pretty sustainable at this point, and I'm already getting ideas for a sequel haha. Finishing the fic was my new years resolution (even though judging by past chapters, it's been taking roughly a month to churn each one out since they're so long and intricate) so it looks like sometime in the new year I'll likely finish the story, maybe around April or June depending on how I balance writing with my workload and social obligations. I'm determined to finish it though (so I can start a cathartic sequel hahah)

I think in terms of us being towards the end of the story though, I have noticed it's made a difference on how I plan out the chapters. In the past I had all the time in the world to build the story and relationships and take things in new imaginative directions, but with the end of the story on the horizon we're left with a limited amount of time to tie up all the loose plot threads. I am being a lot more deliberate with how I plan the chapters. I write notes about plot direction and what details to include for every chapter, and I find that with every chapter approaching the end I've been writing three lots of plot notes corresponding to each 'episode'. So there's the general overview of events from the show and what I want to include from Ford and Bill's perspective, and then there's the refined version where I drill down into what factors I want to explore for each POV (for example the notes for the next chapter include Kryptos' storyline, Ford's storyline and Bill's storyline) which really breaks down what plot beats happen in each POV, and then there's the order of the different plot points, so I can weave between the different POVs in a way that flows thematically and brings out the best contrast between the characters journey.

I try to pull together similar themes in each chapter too, so for example the last chapter had overarching themes (lmao I made myself laugh by saying the themes of chapter 61 were 'dogs' and 'what if my family secretly hates me' hahah) and then I try to place story beats from different POVs together in a way that the themes compliment or contrast each other - so for example in the next chapter the themes of finding purpose after being stripped of it will apply to characters we encounter during Kryptos' POV and during Ford's POV. I've got this planned out meticulously all the way to the end, but before I start each new chapter thats when my second and third plot plans come into place. There's just something about reading the work through again once it's been posted on ao3 that makes me realise what threads I want to pull into the next chapter and that means my second and third plots happen once the last chapter is posted. I also rewatch the show's episodes about a million times lmao and add to my notes about what little details I want to highlight and bring back from the old chapters, since this fic is technically canon divergent, not fully canon adjacent.

I get inspired all the time for this story though, from all kinds of places too. Lots of times from my work (since I work in a mental health org) or from therapy or my own reading. I attended a DSFV training session through work a few weeks ago and what I learned there gave me inspiration for how I want to tackle a possible redemption arc in a sequel, especially around cycles of violence and how it can relate to perpetrators. I'll talk about healthy relationships in my own therapy sessions, and I'll get inspired to work in stuff about relearning independence after codependency. I'll read a baller fanfic (usually from other fandoms since I've been saving myself to read all the billford fics after my fic is finished, because of that one time someone accused the fic of plagarism - but since most ppl have wised up to the fact that those claims were just one person being a big meany I've read one or two fics and there is some gold out there in the fandom!!! Like Theseus' Guide To Ruining a Perfectly Good Boat by @stump-not-found theres a few chapters out but I am loving the characterisation and how punchy the prose and stakes are!) and reading fic is a great inspiration, same with published works too, I'm currently reading Youthjuice by E K Sathue which does very interesting things with description.

Anywho sorry for the essay in response haha! You always ask such great questions jada! I just finished doing my second plot through for chapter 62 today too, what timing!

[godsopenwound]

hearing someone asking you casually but in a truly genuine way as well if you are okay is honestly heartbreaking

[dipplinduo]

DIP I need you to find me someone to draw this pic rn PLZ!!

NAH I GOTCHU HOLD UP-

#COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN for $1,000,000,0000/second I work tirelessly on these visions of exquisite art (this one took me two years of blood, sweat, and tears). I know I'm soooo talented thank me later. Congrats on being the first to publicly receive one of my many masterpieces B)