#and for my own sorting system

[humming-fly]

WOOOOOOOOOO!!!

good ol artfight revenges for @humming-fly

[fluentisonus]

chiens-loups

[rocketbirdie]

*slips another kunsel into your pocket*

[the-adventures-of-dave]

Dave and I are ready to throw hands at the neighbour’s outdoor cat I s2g

Picture this: I am in bed. Dave is curled next to me. We are listening to welcome to night vale. It is dark. I am almost asleep. All is peaceful.

Something screams bloody murder outside my window, Dave uses my stomach as a springboard to launch himself at the trespasser to fight to the death. He misjudges his jump in the dark, hits the window with a bad amount of force, and screams so loud I’m convinced he must have broken his nose or something.

Dave’s fine (but growling and very obviously stressed) and I don’t think I’m going to sleep any time soon. Ugh. I wish they’d at least keep their cat inside at night, during the day it doesn’t bother us half as much. I don’t know who owns it though so :/

[mapicccc]

look at me and my bbg drawn by the marvelous bluejackals THESE MEAN SO MUCH TO MEEEE

[luci-z-wont-shut-up]

I'd like yalls help w something, please

Regardless of its intelligence level, how many non-human creatures have Arthur and John had an emotionally positive experience with?bc I am wracking my brain and the only ones I can come up with are the lamp-eft, the buopoth, the cana, and the owl (I have yet to figure out if cana is a species or a job title but yall know who I'm talking about)

If anyone can fact-check/correct/update me on this I'd appreciate it so much 🙏

[puppppppppy]

adhd comix

[tennessoui]

new wip wednesday

i wanted to get the first chapter of this done as an early bday present to me because ive been talking about this fic for foreverrrrr but its not gonna happen because im bad at measuring time and effort 😮‍💨 but look! hunger games au fic!

Anakin pushes his face into his neck, letting his lips press against his pulse for a moment. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, recognition and warning rolled into one tone. 

But Anakin wouldn’t be who he is if he allowed the man in his arms to so easily twist away. He wouldn’t even be here now, pressed up against him with the scent of saltwater and lilacs and leather filling his nose, if he let one warning word distract him from his goal.

So instead he pushes further, wraps his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and takes the skin beneath his lips between his teeth. The soft fabric of their pants brush together, so loud in the stillness of the kitchen that it’s deafening—that it’s almost loud enough to drown out the catch in Obi-Wan’s breathing.

But Anakin has trained himself over the past five years to listen for all the small ways that Obi-Wan Kenobi capitulates, so he hears his sigh, feels the slump of his shoulders against his own as his head sways forward and then back.

Anakin takes his time worrying a bitemark into his neck, just at the edge of his beard. On the holos that will film Obi-Wan’s face today, it’ll look like a shadow. 

But Anakin will know. Obi-Wan will know. 

“Anakin,” his lover murmurs, and Anakin’s hand moves from his waist up to stroke down his arm, corded with tense muscle. Fisherman’s muscle. Victor’s muscle too.

Not today, he means. It’s obvious in every line of his body. It’s obvious in the fact that he left the bed so early in the morning when neither of them must work. It’s obvious in the distance in his eyes, the frown across his lips.

Today is not a day where Obi-Wan will accept pleasure from anyone’s lips or hands, undeserving as he feels to be on the receiving end of such a kindness.

Anakin’s left hand falls to cover Obi-Wan’s, tangling their fingers together. His are rougher than Obi-Wan’s, working man’s hands now that he is twenty-one and a man of the sea like most are on Stewjon. The rough drag of his calluses over the hairy knuckles of Obi-Wan’s hand makes Anakin swallow a smile. Victors of the Hunger Games are forbidden from working laborious jobs. They’re meant to languish away in their Coruscanti-funded manors, with idle minds and idle hands, picking at paints or design stencils or any number of different government approved hobbies

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not made to be idle. He has no patience for painting or sewing, for cooking or jewelry design. Luckily for him, Stewjon is the fourth planet from Coruscant, on the edge of the inner rim, and it’s rather small, rather ordinary. In the colder months, during the few months of the star year where the galaxy is not forced to care about the Hunger Games and its Victors, he can slip away to the ocean. Fish and sail like he was born to do, Stewjoni through and through.

But Anakin is out on those choppy seas year-round now that he’s four years finished with his compulsory education. His hands are rougher than Obi-Wan’s and they always will be.

Anakin likes it. Likes the way Obi-Wan’s softness contrasts against his own rougher places. Likes that he can sneak away from Obi-Wan’s manor in the blue of the pre-dawn light, first to the sea and then to the market, and Obi-Wan will be there when he gets back. Likes that when he leaves, his lover is curled up asleep in their bed. And when he returns with the fattest fish from his haul, Anakin can cook it for him too. 

He likes that he is the only thing Obi-Wan needs. He provides. He cooks for him. He feeds him. He touches him with his rough hands, to dirty him and then to clean him up. Everything that Obi-Wan needs, Anakin is the person to give it to him.

He supposes he has Coruscant to thank for that.

He’s not stupid enough to say that—ever, but especially today. Especially on the day of the Reaping. 

[hyenakat]

wizard lady and interior design

[dunaldoodles]

So this is a casual look to the inside of my head at all times. I had to do a role call 3 times to figure out who wanted to be where because they were all picky. You get a virtual cookie if you can name all of my nicknames for these guys. Maybe an art. Depends!

[7lizardsinacoat]

wip! this time with more 100% more aabria

[boatcats]

.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Anyone else have near-perfect executive function at work; but at home, have literally no energy or motivation to do anything except lie in a dark room, with something in or on your ears for several hours?

[ao3screenshotss]

[the-busy-ghost]

I have finally emptied the blue bench of all the library books I need to hand back, even though they were terribly photogenic in there, and instead have filled it with all the old children's books I've been keeping around for like fifteen years or more, even though the chances of me ever having children or even passing them on to nieces/nephews/cousins etc is vanishingly small. These are less photogenic but at least it's one way to start clearing the living room of boxes.

Currently strategising how to fit them all in but also wow this is a list of Problematic Children's Authors TM

[tearfest]

sorry to log on n rant but i need to rant