#i love getting asks sm

[aimedis]

who was your first redacted character?

OH THIS IS FUN

i thinkkkkk it was either lasko's now deleted movie theatre audio or lasko and gavin's non-canon audio. most likely lasko's 😭

my first character after really getting into erik's channel as a whole though was probably gavin? i don't really remember honestly

[pigeonstab]

I think Cross would quite like the new LINKIN PARK song, The Emptiness Machine :3

He would XD, I didn't even know a new linkin park song came out but I gave it a listen so thanks anon! :D

really ties into his self sacrificial tendencies lol, I can see him listening to it

[placebo-ambrosia]

i love your blog hii

hiii tysm </33

[ask-tdtc]

(let me know if i’m asking too many questions btw/if it’s annoying u can ignore these if so i’m just ill /aff abt tdtc LOL) elena, is it hard to be a magic user in a society that looks so heavily down upon magic these days?

[triona-tribblescore]

I WANNA DRAAWW!! RAHHHGG!! Absolutely swamped with college work, im so tired TT (hence whatever tf this is lmao)

[chloesimaginationthings]

I love whenever she makes this face, her face getting intense is always funny to me

Vanessa doing her ABSOLUTE best not to snap

[timethehobo]

The visual of Emmy being absolutely devastated and heartbroken during the period Rook went missing kept coming up. 😔

[jesuistrestriste]

I also had this idea about dilf era art having his sex tape(s) leaked.. or leaking them on purpose because his career is falling off.

The Christian moms would be clutching their pearls when they hear about THE art donaldson getting his back blown out 💀

His tennis career might be over but maybe he's got a new one with his pretty younger gf and her massive strap

ufff angel ! !

it’s a massive scandal when it leaks on twitter from an anonymous account.

the start of the video is actually pretty tame; and you’d never expect the man in the video to be the wimbledon-winning art donaldson. the first few minutes show a fit, naked man sitting on the edge of a bed with a girl in his lap. his hands on her hips, his cock bobbing in the little space left between them. she’s wearing a lacy black lingerie set, and even though you can’t see their faces—the framing cuts off their heads—you can tell from the wet, depraved noises alone that they’re aggressively making out.

the sloppy kissing turns into the two individuals getting handsy. he reaches up to squeeze her tits over the fabric, and her hands seem to move up behind his neck to tug on the back of his hair. a flash of blond locks can be seen. that’s the first hint of his identity. he moans when she pulls, his abdomen tensing and his length dribbling a sticky glob of arousal from his tip. in the next instant, one of her hands reaches down and starts to palm his tip. he jolts forward and whines, letting out an anguished “hnnghh” as she starts to stroke him.

his breathing gets quicker, the pale skin of his chest growing more and more pink by the second, before his fingers appear to dig into her body and he tenses up. her hand pulls away, effectively edging him. he shudders and wraps his arms around her lower back, pulling her further into his body. “pleasepleaseplease..” he can be heard whispering to begging her.

the tape cuts to black for only a moment before—

…wow.

she’s now got him bent over onto all-fours on the bed, his ass facing her pelvis while she lines up a thick pink dildo that’s attached to a harness she hadn’t been wearing before. his head is still lifted just enough to keep his eyes out of the video, but his jaw and lips and the tip of his nose can be seen. his mouth is hung open in a desperate ‘o’ while he feels her strap prod and begin to push in. it slides into him with little resistance, and she can be heard cooing down to the man below.

“thaaat’s it, baby.. good job.. guess we prepped you enough, huh?”

it’s teasing yet authoritative in nature, and the man just lets out an anguished groan of pure unfiltered pleasure as she positions her hands at his hips and starts to earnestly fuck into him. each roll of her pelvis elicits a sharp moan and whimper, and anyone watching can clearly see his cock drooling onto the sheets helplessly.

suddenly, after only a couple of minutes of this, the woman hikes her leg up onto the bed, bending it at the knee to gain better leverage on the side farthest from the camera, and pushes her hand down into the space between his shoulder blades.

he lets out a surprised whimper, keens, and then falls face-down into the bedding.

and in that moment in the video, every single person watching finally realized who he was.

all of his features are now totally visible. every single one.

art’s face is burning; his eyes rolling back into his head while his brows pinch up in ecstasy. his cheek is pressing into the mattress, his ass still up to meet her movements. he grips the white bedding under his palms and then bites his lip, “ohhh, fuck,” he whines, almost girlish, “fuck me harder, i’m gonna come, baby— ah-haah— i’m so close right now-!”

he’s making noises like a total pornstar; someone fit for the limelight and the mess of it all.

the woman, who can now be assumed to be his (controversially) younger girlfriend, complies with his begging with no more than a low chuckle. she bucks into him faster, and art yelps.

she raises her right hand and brings it down over his ass in a playful slap before she squeezes the flesh. his entire frame jolts and then he squeezes his eyes shut, his back perfectly arched, “.. im gonna come, can i— mgnh- touch myself? can you-or, i c— AH!”

the tennis player’s words get cut off when the girl leans over his back and wraps her hand around his sticky dick hanging heavily between his thighs. she pumps him quickly in time with her thrusts and it takes no more than twenty seconds before he’s trembling all over. and god, it’s a sight to behold.

“i’m gonna come, ‘m gonna come, baby, im gonna come! i’m—“

a strangled curse flies past his lips before he’s squealing and gushing milky strings of his release over her fingers and onto the bed. moans of pleasure turn into sobs of overstimulation as she milks him in her grasp, strong shots of his orgasm blending into pathetic dribbles of whatever’s left inside his balls.

he collapses under her, her strap still filling him, and she tenderly strokes his shaking back with her left hand. art’s gasping for air like he’s been deprived of it for a moment too long, and some of his hair is sticking to his forehead. his eyes open slightly, albeit lidded, and he moans out a slurred “thank you” before the video cuts to an end.

the uproar in its wake is insane.

he’s all over celebrity gossip magazines, and being talked about in raunchy podcasts, and exploited in deep-dive youtube videos. everything. it’s everywhere.

people were talking about him now who hadn’t even thought about him in years.

he was the talk of the town, really.

.. so art doesn’t even feel guilty that he was the one who clicked ‘post’.

[obsob]

making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!

[milkbreadtoast]

idk how i want to draw him yet and not ready to make a srs attempt but here's a bad kdj phone doodle lol🚶🏻

[basketobread]

my dumb fuck ass just spent 30 minutes trying to find Save Us White Girl and caved and "help white girl bg3" immediately returned it via google,,,,, had help white girl, white girl help stuck in my head,,,,,

THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO MUCH TBH I CANNOT BELIEVE IT CAN IMMEDIATELY BE FOUND LIKE THAT???? everyday this comic finds its way back to me and i'm unsure if i'll ever be able to outdo it... it might be my magnum opus, i fear... (this is a good thing)

[dykesevika]

Draw Sevika in winter clothes?!?!? I wanna know what you think she’d wear. Beanies? Maybe? I think she would look adorable in ear muffs tho 😝😝

She’d wear both!! :3

Men DNI

Do NOT use or repost my art without permission/credit <3

[choccy-milky]

clora with @lamieboo's dahlia💛🩵 i had to draw them together as soon as i saw dahlia was yellow and blue, bc their colour schemes are kinda the same, just inverted (and u all know how i love my opposites LMAO)

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[star2stop]

GUESS WHOS BACK W MORE ASK-SPIDERPOOL FANART?? THATS RIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS!! ME. GET HIT W MS. LOVE FANART💥💥💥💥💥

[caelanglang]

dear diary… one day I met the little prince…

but just as the storybook said… we got separated… all I know is that somewhere out there… we see the same stars…

ps. they found each other again...