#gonna pick this up again just for fun

[inkykeiji]

me rereading my old dragon king bakugou fic that i wrote for my best friend in 2020 like dang this is actually really good!!!!!

like slow burn stockholm syndrome enemies to lovers + a deadly disease + a pregnancy + a love triangle (a Clari Classic, naturally)!? goddamn clari you couldn’t have been any more deliciously trashy!!!!!!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chair + helmet for funsies

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[zukkaoru]

while i do agree some of taylor swift's lyrics are. ???. sometimes i see things pointed out and criticized that would not get any reaction at all if they came from any other artist

[bonestrouslingbones]

btw one of the things i want to do when i really rap up atbb for real is spontaneously get the energy at will to do actual updated fullbodies of the main 4 since now i actually have the ability to draw them the way they look in my head & have the skills to put some more variety in their shapes. basically i wanna

[byanyan]

need y'all to know that some time ago xeno brought it to my attention that jesus of suburbia is an incredibly byan-coded song and i haven't stopped thinking about it since

[arcademyth]

something doesn't feel quite right

[justmenoworries]

Yep, that checks out.

*sigh* You had me in the first three thirds X-Men '97, not gonna lie.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

(ao3)

The worst thing, Bad knows, is the way that nothing changes. 

The clouds move slow across the sky, gentle giants on an eternal trek. The waters dance with fish; the brooks burble and sing. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. 

On, and on, and on, and on. 

Bad breathes in, slow, and holds it. 

It’s enough to go mad over. To become enraged for. To rip everything down just so that everything can match the- the keening lack in his heart. Grass grows. Grass has always grown. There is nothing that could ever stop grass from growing. 

His hands are curled into the ground at his sides. He clutches handfuls of the wretched plant and pulls, almost gently, and doesn’t snap a single blade.

He exhales, slow, and doesn’t inhale again. What point is there? He’s alone. No one will know whether or not he needs to breathe. He’s been alone before- days that Dapper doesn’t wake up, days where the other eggs are with their other parents. Days where he falls asleep in his chair and the ghosts are left to amuse themselves. He’s been alone before. 

He’s lost before. 

There is a sob in his throat. He refuses to let it out. It chokes him, and he takes another deep breath to try to settle it. 

There’s always- he misses Skeppy. Of course he misses Skeppy. He can’t lose Skeppy, but Skeppy isn’t here.

Dapper isn’t here. Pomme isn’t here. Richarlyson. Leo. Ramon. Chayanne. Tallulah. They’re-

Bad tears the grass out of the ground. He stares at his hands, dark claws curled around torn green plant. He tries to imagine the grass is white fur instead, but he can’t find the enthusiasm. That’s okay. The anger will be back later. 

He just- he can’t feel much beyond the loss, right now. The lack. The empty, quiet island where sheep eat grass and clouds keep moving and no eggs place any signs at all. That’s not okay, but he knows that, at least, will change. That’s how grief works. The world ends, and you end with it, and while you claw yourself up from the rubble the world ends again and sends you back under, and then again, and then again, but by the third go around you know what the tremors look like. You start to predict where it hurts the most. Then the world keeps ending but the ending just becomes a part of your world, and sometimes everything shakes but you shake with it and it’s not okay but it’s better. You get so used to the shaking that sometimes you forget that your world ever ended at all. 

How long will it take for him to forget them? 

Bad leans forwards, slowly, until he slumps into a miserable little puddle of limbs. He presses his cheek into the cool grass and when the sob rises up again he bites it back with teeth. The sun is blocked by a sombrero, now fallen awkwardly over his face, that Foolish had cheerfully placed on his head hours before. Bad doesn’t know why Foolish had put it there- except he does, and he’d seen it in the in the slightest tremor of Foolish’s smile, and so he’d kept it on. 

He can’t see them, but he can hear them laughing. Mouse, Jaiden, and Foolish, just around the corner. There have been so many people ‘just around the corner’ today. They’re so loud. They’re not the right type of loud. He feels guilty for the way that they’re comforting him, that he’s taking up their time, and then he feels angry that he feels guilty because he remembers the cage, and he knows what he really means to them, and-

They’re still here. The eggs are gone, and they’re still here. 

Forever isn’t here. 

Forever hasn’t given him a gift basket yet. 

…

…It doesn’t work. It’s a close thing, though- there’s a flicker of irritation at the thought of Forever’s awful, handsome face. Not anger, not nearly enough emotion to fill the void that is Bad’s heart, but maybe it could be. He’ll try again tomorrow. Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that something? There’s so much emotion he can’t feel any of it at all. 

Maybe it’s a bad dream. There were no remains. There was just Dapper’s top hat, and Pomme’s beret. No shell, no dead eggs. No eggs. It’s driving him mad, the maybe-yes maybe-no nature of his children’s fate.

He thinks, maybe, that tomorrow he will build a drill. 

Today, the world is dark beneath the sombrero, and the grass is scratchy and full of small twigs. Foolish laughs once, too loud. Automatically, Bad pushes himself up, because he knows Foolish, and knows how long he’s been away from the group, and he feels sick. He fumbles for his warpstone and- Foolish’s head pops around the corner- Bad freezes. Too late. 

Foolish looks at him, grin bright and neverending. Bad looks back. He can’t bring himself to say anything- he drops the sombrero at their feet. 

Foolish’s smile fades. Bad activates his warpstone again and, though the particles, he sees Foolish give him a sharp, left-handed salute. Bad can’t bite back his little laugh; Foolish knows him, too.

And then Foolish is gone. The world is purple. Then the world ends, once again, in Bad’s home. All of Dapper’s machines have stopped. Echoing noise to almost-echoing silence. Ah. Right. None of the island’s machines are working correctly. Bad will have to make a smaller drill. But he will build his drill, and he will dig, and he will find his son. 

“Dapper?” he calls, his voice cracking. The sound echoes. Only the animals answer back- they’re the only thing that stops the base from being completely silent. Grass grows. Sheep eat. Grass regrows. There’s so many animals here. What good company. It occurs to Bad, suddenly, that they’re good company. Dapper is gone, and his animals are still here, and Bad- 

He won’t kill Dapper’s pets. He is suddenly holding his scythe and he won’t hurt his son’s pets because he can’t trade them for his son and there’s a special sort of heartache to the fact that his son left behind instructions to machines that don’t work and so many animals that can’t keep Bad company the way Dapper kept him company and Bad- 

He’s holding his scythe. He’s holding the Sunshine Protector. He tries to take a breath but it comes out stuttery and he bites his tongue and. Dapper was-is always so sweet. He made Bonnie to keep Bad company, and Bad is always haunted by little ghosts but now most of all he is haunted by the love of his son. 

“Where are you?” His voice cracks on the third word. He stumbles to Dapper’s room and doesn’t think about the fact that they never got to build one for Pomme.  

The hole in his heart could swallow an island. 

Please don’t take- 

The scythe gets left outside. Bad can’t bear to look at it. Protector. There is a secure door in front of him that keeps nothing secure because now there is nothing to protect and Bad- 

-my sunshine away. 

He falls to his knees next to the empty bed. He chokes out, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Dapper.”

When the sob rises again, he lets it.

[the-deadlock-south]

i like illiari

[tennessoui]

pbatmb anakin telling obi-wan “i’m not wearing that” for the four word prompts please!

so this is pbatmb anakin saying "i'm not wearing that".

but not to obi-wan.

(1.2k) (warnings: general pbatmb warnings apply? vaguely fluffy sorta disturbing, a few uses of daddy but not in a serious way)

There’s a thunk on the other side of the door. It could be either Cody’s fist or his head.

Anakin doesn’t particularly care. He stares directly opposite him, drawing his legs closer to his chest as he shifts on the marble floor.

“Skywalker, come on,” the man says, sounding impatient. Anakin sneers. “We’re going to be late.”

“Fuck you,” Anakin says, resting his chin on his knees.

“We’re going to be late and your fiance is going to think you’re getting cold feet and planning to leave him at the altar and he’s going to make it everyone’s fucking problem in the entire goddamn city. Including me.”

Anakin narrows his eyes, considering the words. He’s not—he doesn’t want Obi-Wan to think he’s running out on him. He’s in his suit, light gray with a golden pattern swirling through the fabric, pristine white shirt and tie, lingerie beneath it all. He’s washed and plucked and styled, and he’s ready to marry Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He is absolutely not ready to leave their shared bathroom in their loft to go to whatever venue Obi-Wan has booked for their ceremony and then their reception. And that has nothing to do with his soon-to-be husband.

And everything to do with his husband’s brother, currently thumping his fist—or head, and Anakin prefers that mental picture—against the locked door to the—to the tune of…

He’s on his feet and unlocking the door in a fit of pique. “Is that really fucking ‘Here Comes The Bride’, you fuc—”

Cody’s fist, raised and pulled back for another knock, doesn’t stop. 

Not until it makes contact with Anakin’s eye.

The pain is secondary to the fucking shock. “Holy shit,” he says.

To his credit, Cody doesn’t look as celebratory as Anakin’s always thought he’d look after laying a punch on Anakin.

He actually looks pretty fucking terrified. “Fuck,” he says succinctly. “Obi-Wan’s gonna kill me.”

“Yeah,” Anakin agrees, turning around to look in the mirror behind him. “Holy shit, Fett. I’m bleeding. You made me bleed on my wedding day.”

“Quick,” Cody says. “Display the bedsheets.”

Anakin leans over the sink and prods at the red skin beneath his eye in morbid curiosity, pushing extra hard over the small cut left behind by Cody’s ring. “Oh, dead man walking’s got jokes. Tell that one to Obi-Wan, I think he’d love the implication another man took my virginity. On our wedding day.”

Cody’s glare could level a city. “Now you have to wear this.”

“I’m not wearing that,” Anakin shoots him a look in the mirror. “I wasn’t going to let you tie a blindfold on me before and now that you’ve punched me in the face, not sure I’m trusting you more.”

“Yeah, well. Before you were going to put this on because your fiance requested that you’re led to the venue blindfolded—ostensibly so it’s all a surprise, but if you ask me, he doesn’t think you can run as fast without your eyes—and now you’re going to wear it so Obi-Wan doesn’t see the shiner you’ll be sprouting in a few hours.”

“You think I’m going to wear a blindfold my entire wedding?” Anakin asks, laughter bursting out of him. “You think I’m getting married to someone as hot as Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m not going to look at him? Fuck, Fett, if I thought it’d work, I’d tear out everyone else’s eyes so I could look at him through them as well.”

“You say the most disturbing things like they’re something to be proud about,” Fett says, a bit like it’s a miracle.

“Like you’ve never torn out a man’s eyes,” Anakin rolls his own and prods at his cheek again.

“Yeah, well, at least I’m sane enough to understand they’re pretty fucking useless outside of the skull,” Cody leans against the doorway with a sneer.

Anakin sneers back. “Daddy, look what Cody did to my face, Daddy. Daddy, it hurt and I cried it hurt so bad. Daddy, did you hear that? I gave tears that should have been yours to Cody instead.”

Cody starts forward automatically, eyes narrowing. Anakin smirks at him.

“Just practicing, Cody,” he smiles. “In case it comes up.”

“You dirty fucking liar.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Is that news to you?”

“Skywalker, wear it.”

“Fett, no.”

“Skywalker.”

“Fett.”

“Skywalker.”

“Fett.”

There’s a vein pulsing in Cody’s forehead. It’s the prettiest thing about him. 

“Skywalker. I’m putting this blindfold on you. And you’re going to fucking consent to it because it’s what Obi-Wan fucking wants from you. And me. And it’s my brother’s fucking wedding day and honestly, I was really hoping we’d never fucking get here, but fuck if life’s been that nice to me, ever. Even once.  And when I go to sleep, the idea of leaving you on the side of the road in a soggy cardboard box like a stray cat in a fucking hurricane is literally my happy place. Add a few bullets in your most annoying bits, it’s practically heaven, alright, so please don’t think I care about your wedding day, but fuck you if you think I don’t give a fuck about his.”

It may be the most Cody’s ever spoken to him in one go.

He narrows his eyes and weighs his options.

“Fine,” he says.

“Fuck yo���wait. What?”

“Fine,” Anakin turns to face him with a shrug. “I might never trust you not to punch me in the face given half a chance—” he gestures to his eye. “But Obi-Wan wouldn’t trust me with just anyone. Especially blindfolded. So. If I’m marrying into his mob and his multiple properties and his family, I guess. I guess I’m marrying into his trust in you.” 

Cody’s eyes narrow. “What else.”

Anakin shrugs again and grins. “And I can’t wait to hear you try to convince Obi-Wan Kenobi to last the whole wedding ceremony—to me—without demanding to see my eyes.”

Cody’s face freezes, fabric of the blindfold stretched between his fingers.

Feeling very obliging all of a sudden, Anakin leans forward to press his face into the silk. “But Cody, you have to know that if my daddy asks me to do something—like, I don’t know, show him my eyes during our wedding ceremony—I will.”

Cody grimaces. Anakin smiles.

—--------

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan murmurs as Fett guides Anakin to a stop in front of him. “I’ll take him from here.”

“I think I’m just realizing you made me walk him down the aisle,” Cody hisses. "Kenobi, it fucking looks like I'm giving him away."

“It’s not as if he has a father to do it,” Obi-Wan points out, hands wrapping around Anakin’s, strong and sure and achingly familiar. “Thank you for your service.”

“I thought you wanted the venue to be a surprise,” Fett sounds furious.

Anakin beams. “I’ve known it’s going to be in the club for ages. Who do you think suggested the venue? Ceremony and reception in one place with our bed a few floors away? Come on, use your brain, Cody.”

“Don’t make me punch you again,” Cody mutters as he takes a step back.

Obi-Wan’s tone changes like a light flickering off. “Again?”

“Yeah,” Cody huffs. “Did I fucking stutter?”

[chibishortdeath]

R.I.P Simon Belmont, he woulda loved the 80s 😔

[genderfluid-druid]

“what happened to him?” “he read a book so bad he returned it to the library a third of the way through, but now his brain won’t stop chewing on the potential it had 😔”

[b4kuch1n]

dip pen ink comm second round for in order R. Burry, @sega-bass-kissing, and Solaris

[pirate-poet]

since everybody ELSE is doing this picrew i thought i should too

i really wish i had more for these guys, i do

in order from top to bottom: Phiri Ulfur, Vermillion Liminate, and Jacqueline Blackwood