#cardboard characters

[cocopudu]

my oldest pony oc, princess wannabe 💎🦄🌤️

[chloesimaginationthings]

Michael still has beef with Ennard in FNAF…

[paradox-n-bedrock]

me in big fandoms: oh cool, it's so active and there's so many people to vibe with, this is amaz-

*finds my niche angle that appeals to approximately six people*

me: okay, folks, it's you and me now

[ruushes]

throuple of all time to me

[thatsonehellofahabit]

Tommy is unironically such a badass.

[cheesuschrist-iii]

Taishen!!! Yayyy!!!

Didn’t realise how much I like this silly guy.

He’s literally so nice 😭😭

Also I like imagining him pulling on his whisker tendrils when he’s upset idk why.

[dennydreadful]

Exhume your boyfriend!

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[celtrist]

Let's make our own fate

Needed practice with Alastor's colors before going at it with the wip piece I have (which ironically enough is another red string of fate piece). But while I do oh so enjoy Alastor being an independent mammal who doesn't need no mate, I 100% still have fun shipping with him myself from time to time. And this ship is probably my favorite with him (and y'know what, you can take this as a QPR thing or romance thing, why not?)! And, might I add, severely underrated when it has elements of radiobelle, radioapple, and radiostatic (in terms of colors at least) wrapped up together- HOW ARE PEOPLE SLEEPING ON THIS SHIP HELLO???

Joking aside, Emily and Alastor are in a weird place for me where I like them in this ship dynamic (QPR or romantic), but I also like them in a dynamic similar to what Alastor and Charlie have if you're going the mentor-protege route or parent-child route. Which is a very strange to like those two very opposing dynamics (primarily the lovey dovey and parent-child aspects because y'know... )

I don't imagine these two will really interact much in canon, but I really would love to see how their interactions would go down and if they'd be at all different from how Charlie and Alastor interact (seeing as Emily and Charlie are a wee bit similar y'know?)

[shitpostingkats]

Every time I think Brennan Lee Mulligan has made the saddest, soggiest, most miserable little scrimblo to ever exist, I watch another dimension 20 show and get immediately proven wrong

[felonytaxevasion]

Tragic: artist intends to quickly mock up designs for side characters, ends up spending two hours and getting emotionally attached in the process

[himejoshiangels]

cass cain is so emotive and I hate that so many of yall fall straight into the stoic asian woman stereotype thing because like, the only reason cass wouldn't vocalize a feeling is when she would struggle to find the word for it because she literally wasn't taught how to speak. that's so fucking upsetting. She has such big beautiful emotions, she feels so deeply about the littlest things but everytime she has trouble putting it into words she's reminded that she was conceived not to. her abuser did not have her feelings or her pain in mind, only how well she could end a life. can you fucking imagine

[ghostinhouse]

nhật hạ (she/her) and the ribcage of the bull

really liked the last 2 drawings i did with this theme so i turned it into nhật hạ's character design.

nhật hạ is like a girl living inside the rib cage of a bull. [...] she quickly grows too big for the rib cage and has to spread to the stomach and rear of the bull, which is more roomy, but it makes her ill. eventually she has to break a few bones around the bull's sternum to get into its neck, it's a tight fit so she puts the fridge under her chin, against her neck. she can't speak now but that's the only way she can eat in there.

the bull gets shot, but nhật hạ smartly positions herself so that the arrow that pierces its side goes right between her legs. then she takes the bone that she broke off before to carve thru its stomach. she has escaped.

[suzukiblu]

Please, cuddling, and TimKon?

. . . I am sorry but also I am NOT sorry for what I have done with this reply, but hey, why don't we all enjoy this one being the only prompt fill from this meme that got a read-more cut??

“Please,” Kon tries, trying not to look–he doesn’t know, weird and needy and like an embarrassment, or whatever. It feels like such a stupid thing to ask for. He knows Tim’s not really a hugger or a touchy-feely guy or whatever and that he likes having his own space and basically always hops out of bed right after sex to go write down all the shit his post-nut clarity made him think of, and the idea of, like, just staying still and actually cuddling or whatever is probably basically literal torture to him, assuming it’s ever even occurred to him at all, just . . . 

Just he’d kind of like to sometimes, maybe? Like–not regularly or whatever, he’s not trying to drive Tim nuts or cut into either his worktime or downtime here, just . . .

Just he’d like to do it sometimes, that’s all. 

Tim’s not the tactile type. Tim isn’t even the eye contact type, unless he’s lying to somebody or at work or just faking it for Robin-mode or whatever. Kon gets that. He’s been, like–careful about that. Not trying to take up too much space or ask for too much attention or mind when Tim doesn’t even look up at him when he– 

He’s been careful about it. 

But he is . . . well. The tactile type. Like . . . kind of, anyway. 

Like–it’s kinda unavoidable, honestly. 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him in just enough bemusement to make him feel even more self-conscious about bringing this shit up to begin with, and Kon tries to keep his expression casual and noncommittal and–and just normal about this. Because he is totally normal about this. He is so normal about this. He is.

He’s also normal about the fact that when he asked Tim if he could talk to him about something, Tim didn’t even put down his tablet. Didn’t even put it to sleep, or actually even look up from it until . . . 

Kon’s normal about that. About all of this. 

(and he definitely never feels kind of weird or a little bit abandoned because Tim can’t EVER just bring his stupid laptop back to bed or at least work on whatever he’s thinking about IN the bedroom at the untouched desk he's got set up in there or even just, like . . . stick around and hang out on the couch with him, or anything like that. he definitely totally ENTIRELY doesn’t ever just feel like a casual fuckbuddy or an easy hookup or a gala-night accessory or just the most immediately convenient option and not actually–not actually any kind of a–not actually something that– 

he doesn’t. 

definitely.)

“Uh,” Kon says, and backpedals awkwardly, because clearly this conversation is not going the way he’d wanted it to and Tim just looks so surprised by it all, like–like it never even occurred to him or something, that maybe . . . that maybe Kon would want anything like that, or like he literally just hasn’t noticed how hard Kon’s been trying to be normal about it, or . . . 

It doesn’t feel very good, the idea he’s been trying so hard to respect Tim’s space and preferences and comfort levels and Tim hasn’t even noticed that he was doing anything at all. 

Especially because Tim usually notices just about everything. 

Maybe Tim’s just never thinking about it. Maybe he gets out of bed so quick because he’s spent the whole time in it thinking about other shit and just putting up with–just– 

“Kon,” Tim says, his voice going a little tight, and Kon just tries not to wince. He didn’t mention any of the complicated stuff he’s been trying not to feel, he just asked if Tim could–if Tim would– 

He didn’t even mention any of the complicated stuff, so it’s, like–not a great sign that Tim’s looking at him like that right now, like he’s said something really serious or upsetting or . . . 

He really shouldn’t have said anything, yeah. 

“Sorry,” he tries stiffly, glancing away and wrapping his hand around his own wrist and digging his fingers into the inside of it. It’s–tactile. Just . . . something tactile. “I know you don’t–sorry. Uh. Just forget it.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters for some reason, and Kon feels like such an idiot for saying anything at all, and a worse one for apparently doing it in a way that’s got Tim making that face at him. That face is Robin’s “my utility belt is empty, comms are fried, and the mission just went to shit” face. 

He really fucked this up. It was fine. Everything was fine, and now he’s wrecked it and Tim’s about to say it’s not even that serious, it’s not like it’s even–not like they’re even–and that Kon’s clearly gotten the wrong idea and they should just–just– 

“How long have you felt this way?” Tim asks very, very carefully, like the question’s something fragile, and Kon thinks from literally the first fucking time you left me alone in bed all night so you could go recalibrate some stupid useless specialty sensor that wasn’t even part of your primary gear, like, a WEEK into us sleeping together and says, “I dunno. It’s not–I told you. Forget it. It’s not a big deal.” 

He’s being weird about this. He’s being an asshole about this, actually, because being prepared for literally every single possible contingency ever is the Bats’ whole thing and he got into this knowing Tim wasn’t the touchy-feely type or all that expressive and emotive about–about his feelings, or whatever, and–and it’s not like he even–not like he– 

(he just wants a fucking HUG he didn't have to FUCK him for every now and then, or for Tim to at least exist in the same space as him for longer than the time it takes for the next email from Oracle to come in or next alert from Batman to go off or next self-assigned project to finish processing or–

but that’s not something Tim does, and Kon knew that going in, so–so it’s his own stupid fault if he feels SMALL sometimes, when . . . when there’s always something else, always another problem to solve or place to be or thing to think about, always . . . always something more important than just . . . staying, just for a little bit, and just BEING with–with him. just him. not the team, or either of their families, or . . .)

He knew all this going in, Kon reminds himself. He knew it. If he were this bad at being with literally anyone else, he’d just–he’d just– 

But something about it being Tim means he just . . . can’t. 

Tim’s jaw tightens, and he finally sets down his stupid tablet. 

Only now, though, Kon thinks bitterly, and digs his fingers a little deeper into the inside of his wrist. 

“Kon,” Tim says again, says too carefully again. Like something’s fragile, again. “I–” 

“I said forget it, for fuck’s sake!” Kon snaps too hotly, and maybe hates himself for both doing it and for the stricken look that doing it puts on Tim’s face, and also maybe cheats a bit by super-speeding straight out the balcony door into the night air and not taking his cell or his communicator with him. Or–definitely does, in fact. Definitely that’s cheating. He knows it is. 

He just really can’t stand to hear Tim tell him how he’s fucked up this time right now, though. He just–he tried so fucking hard not to fuck up this time. 

He really, really tried. 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but . . . but he really did try.

[sludgekludge]

you ever think about how crimson physically abused and literally murdered his wife, then abused his only son, and yet he's more generally well-liked by both the show and the fandom than stella. you ever think about how valentino. and he's way, way more beloved than stella. i wonder why that is. anyway

[dootznbootz]

*sighs* I miss Penelope. I want Penelope :(