#it was in an ask but ahhhh

[pigeonstab]

posting this seperately

[deaddriv]

Translated with permission!!

Here's the author's Twitter (achu_0u0) and the original post!

Note from author: Wouldn't it be hard for half-foots to go to the movie theater?

[witsserviceablesubstitute]

I love doing What Pride Had Wrought with Solas because he starts gossiping about the Evanuris and it's the most suss he's ever been.

He successfully maintained his cover as a nondescript scholarly wanderer for most of the Inquisition but needs to break character completely to tell everyone that Falon'Din was a vain idiot.

[timethehobo]

Eepy mood means soft shippy thoughts.

[homkamiro]

either sniperscout yuri eating cheese cake

Or

Heavymedic both flexing together

Your art is amazing please keep being amazing I love you /p

Awweee thank you so much!!! I'm glad🥺💖💖💖

[zarla-s]

Just thinking. Gaster had been in the void for quite a long while, surely long enough to where he was used to not seeing anything. So when Sans teleported him out, I feel like suddenly having light in his eye would've left him hissing in pain as he shields his eye, and all the dialogue that's in that scene gets put on hold for several long minutes XD

TRULY THE GREATEST PUNISHMENT OF ALL assuming eye sockets work for skeletons like that, haha.

Gaster swearing is like :o but I was thinking about that one older comic where he swore in front of the brothers and they started copying him, much to his dismay. Not a common thing, but sometimes!

[index] [patreon]

[haveihitanerve]

batman has trouble telling his family how he feels. So he decides he can write it down in a journal or leave them notes. It's easy to write down the words than say them because the words he wants to say always get lost in translation when he opens his mouth. Dickie when he was robin has a whole box filled with notes from Bruce. Turns out batman can be funny when he writes his thoughts down. Jason writes back to Bruce just as sassy.

i love this

With Dick, the first note appeared after the first fight. A nasty fight, where Dick had screamed

"YOU'RE NOT MY DAD, WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE, I DON'T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU!!!!"

Bruce had gone quiet after the words, and isolated himself away. Dick had felt crummy afterwards, but there wasn't much to do about it, Bruce wasn't around to apologize to and... well, it was true. The screams had just been... inner thoughts he hadn't voiced.

Bruce knew it too. And, it shouldn't have to be up to Dick to make amends. So he withdrew to his office, locked it tight, so that he wouldn't say words he'd regret and make things worse with Dick.

The first few drafts... were hard. But Bruce found his rhythm, and it was so much better. He could erase and start again, and reword, and clear up any parts that weren't clear. He could be concise, precise, honest and literate, he didn't have to stumble and rip his way through an uncomfortable conversation where he'd make things worse.

Dick found the note later that night, laying on his pillow, three pages worth of words that told him he was loved, whether or not he wanted Bruce to be his dad, he could just remain a friend, a brother if he wanted, and that he cared, even if it wasn't always shown, even if it wasn't as a father.

Bruce established boundaries, and apologized too, because it was needed, and it was so much easier to say what he needed to through written words, instead of admitting them aloud. Maybe it made him a coward, it made him a coward, but the next morning Dick hugged him and apologized back, so it worked.

The notes became frequent from then on, usually after fights, or misunderstandings, and Dick understood the need, knew that Bruce wasn't as able to concisely share his thoughts and formulate them as well on the spot aloud, so he let it happen, but soon they became more commonplace, left on chimneys on patrol for Dick to find, little love notes and encouraging words that Bruce became better at saying aloud too.

Dick kept each one, tucking them safely into his belt, and kept them in a box in his closet, one he had made at school with Bruce during a parent-child fun day, and pulled them out to read every so often, when things between them got hard.

The box moved with him, stuffed in the closet at Bludhaven, and postage was expensive, travel even more so, but Bruce still sent him letters, apologies Dick didn't open, notes taped to his window he tossed away (still into a pile he never threw out, but never read either).

When things got better, Dick would read the notes, but he never touched the letters from before, because for once he needed the words from Bruce's lips, and he had liked Bruce's stumbling, his faltering and chagrin, and did not want to read his well thought out, thorough one instead. He still kept the notes, of course.

With Barbara.... Bruce didn't have a claim to her. She wasn't his daughter. She wasn't looking for a father. She wasn't, quite honestly, even looking for a mentor. But she found one in him anyway, whether either of them liked it or not.

But Bruce still sent her notes. Little letters, facts, information, telling her through a note was easier than in person. Because then he could lay it all out, and maybe she'd see something he'd missed. Because she always did. She completed him, in a way none of the other did. In a way even Dick didn't. But, then again, they all completed him in different ways. Hers was just more noticeable.

After Joker... every day he wrote to her, flooding her phone with messages, her laptop with emails, her room with cards and flowers and notes.

And when she moved to the Clock Tower it didn't stop, maybe slowed a little, became smaller in quantity, but he always sent her something. Let her check over his work, proofread anything and everything. His fresh set of eyes.

She wrote back, sometimes. But she was more like Dick in that regard, choosing to answer his messages verbally rather than write back. She did have the perfect time to do it too, and she always had something to say.

Barbara never struggled with her words the way he did. And he appreciated it. Loved it, even. Even if it usually didn't mean anything good for him...

With Jason... Bruce hadn't done it, originally, because Jason was just so bright, and understood, and didn't need the words because he heard them because Bruce was better, all the mistakes he'd made with Dick cleaned up a bit.

But Jason needed the words, and he had such a spark, so Bruce began writing again, sliding notes under his son's door and leaving them taped around the house, or on patrol. And Jason, Jason wrote back.

Little witty notes, marked up Bruce letters with grammar corrections, book recommendations, questions about what they were eating for dinner, or little stories, scrawled in the margins of notebook paper, stuck to Bruce's cape, or on his pillow, or taped to his mirror.

Bruce still wrote the letters, left them in Jason's room, after his death. Red Hood never mentioned it, but after a trip to the manor to "haunt" them, he became a little less violent.

With Tim, Bruce was ashamed to admit, he just didn't care. He didn't care that Tim winced at his words, he didn't care if he was misunderstood, he didn't care if he neglected the boy.

And it hurt, Bruce knew it hurt him, but he just didn't care, couldn't bring himself to, not when Tim was so much like the boy he'd lost, not when Tim was so different.

But Tim started writing letters, originally just for himself, begging for affection, begging for his parents to love him, begging for Bruce to notice him. Then the notes got angry, rants, screaming, slashes across the page, pencil marks that tore paper and dug groves into the table.

He kept them all to himself, waded up in the corner of his room, but Bruce found them, found them all, and he hated himself, hated the Drakes, but he couldn't even fault them because he, oh he was much worse. (no he wasn't the Drakes owed Tim love and affection those were his parents and a child deserves that from his parents Bruce tech didn't owe him anything but shiii he was awful and-)

So Bruce started writing again, answering all of Tim's pleas, cataloging every single movement and jump and case and file and everything Tim had ever done right and congratulating him, giving him pride Bruce wasn't even sure he was allowed to give anymore, and he apologized, begged for forgiveness, for a chance to start over, because he was better now, Tim had made him better, and he wanted... he wanted to be better. For Tim.

In the end the note was twenty three pages long, and ended with the simple phrase, "I love you, you are my Robin, and I'm so sorry"

Tim was at school, so Bruce left it on his bed, and shut himself away in the cave until he got home. He always stopped by his room first, tidying everything up, because he was only a "guest" and all, before heading down to the cave.

Bruce waited for two hours. When Tim finally came into the cave, his eyes were red, tears still falling down his face.

"Oh Timmy," Bruce breathed. "I'm so so sorry." Tim walked to him, and collapsed in his arms.

And from then on, things were better. Not perfect, nothing to do with Bruce's personal life was perfect, but it was better. It was good. And Bruce started sending notes. Slowly, they turned from letters into emails, into texts and shared google docs. So Tim would have evidence in his favored form, of Bruce's love.

With Stephanie... things were different. She didn't live at the manor. She had a father, albeit a bad one, and Bruce didn't want to give her another one of those.

But he still left her notes, information, or clues, things that gave her autonomy for a bit, let her work still "alone" as Spoiler, but kept her connected to him. To Robin. And when she died...

Bruce gave every letter to Leslie. Not because he knew, exactly, but because he knew she was closer to Stephanie, and he couldn't have them at home. Couldn't look at them.

Leslie gave every one to Steph. Who read them. Sometimes. Enough times that when she came back, she wasn't as hard on Bruce. Enough times that she let him hug her. And came over for dinner. And never regretted being Robin. Enough times to admit she loved him too. And that he would never be her father. Because at his core, he was a good person, and Arthur Brown was not that.

With Cassandra, Bruce didn't write letters. Not only because Cass couldn't read, but because she could read him. And no words were necessary. For once, he could love someone in silence.

With Damian, words came easier, somehow. Maybe because Damian needed words, needed the commands to be spoken aloud, needed the reprimand or the praise. He needed the tone, couldn't weed it out of what Bruce had written like the others, needed the verbal confirmation or denial.

Bruce needed the words to. To tell his son it was alright to mess up, to make mistakes. He needed to words to reassure his son that harsh language was the extent of what he was going to get. That punishment wasn't physical in their world. In his home.

He wrote Damian letters too, of course, in the case his youngest might feel excluded, but usually only at special occasions, a card for his birthday, or a quick poem to brighten his day.

And words... words came easier now. After so many. It was easier to tell Damian what he needed, aloud as well as on paper. It was easier to speak, to not stumble over his words, to praise and apologize. A good thing too, because Damian needed it. And maybe... maybe Bruce did too.

[artsymeeshee]

LITTLE BOYS 🥺🥺🥺

[tojisun]

WHY IS THIS SO BIMBO READER AND SIMON LIKE - I JUST WANNA REMIND YOU AGAIN ABOUT THE SIZE DIFFERENCE I SEE IN MY HEAD I JUST GAGSTHAHEHRHAAARRRRRR

OH MY GODDDDD THATS SO ADORABLE!! that is bimbo!reader n simon, actually!!

the size difference is making me screammm. and the way it’s not just big hand vs small hand, BUT THE WRIST SIZES!! THE FINGER LENGTHS!! it’s just so stark that simon goes a little crazy when he holds your hand because you’re so pocket-sized, it makes him have cute aggression hhhhhh

also also

just imagine :(( you made the beaded bracelets for yourself and you know simon usually likes silver but you wanted to give him flare! so you cut up a piece of leather from extra scraps that weren’t used for your project and made a leather cuff for him that kind of matched the amount of charms in your own bracelets!!

“oh?” simon hums when you give it to him. “and this is for me, sweets?”

“yeah!” you say before showing off your own jewelled wrist.

ah, simon thinks to himself, so that’s what’s making a jingling noise when you walked towards him.

simon takes the cuff with a smile before reaching to steady your hand and planting a kiss on the back of your palm. he peers up at you, letting his smile show at seeing the way you’re fucking beaming at him with pride.

“thank you, baby,” simon murmurs and kisses your hand again.

he tugs the cuff on and marvels at the careful design. it’s truly not his style, but simon sees the details that you’ve put that he knows reminded you of him and, well, how can he not adore this little thing?

“y’like it?” you ask, unconsciously swaying side-to-side in excitement.

simon chuckles. “yeah, baby. i really do.”

he laughs as you launch yourself to him, catching you just in time, and being careful not to puncture you with the studs. fuckin’ adorable, y’are.

(gonna gnaw on my fist rn)

[sili-a]

Love like you

Swapped broppy au. Have you ever read a fanfic SO GOOD it inspires you to make art?

This song has been stuck in my mind for weeks thanks to the ABSOLUTE MASTERPIECE written by PrincessPoppifer @princesspoppifer on ao3 Brilliant Blue and Muted Magenta, this one became my ultimate favorite and steal my heart, so I had to make fanart of it.

Love like you from Steven Universe captures the broppy dynamic from Poppy's pov sooo well. I actually have a list of other songs for these two, but this one was the best.

[aliettali]

opinion on coelacanth

my buddies….

[mysicklove]

obedience is so so hot. not even asking subs to do extreme things, just simple commands that they have been trained to follow. reinforced these rules so many times that their body reacts to your words before they even think about it

could you imagine being mid-conversation with a sub, and then randomly interrupting them to tell them to kneel, and immediately they fall to their knees without even hesitation, blinking up at you and ready to follow the next command.

[bloobydabloob]

How did you go about developing your style and how long did it take you? I love everything about your art style and the composition and colors, it’s all very visually appealing and flows rly nicely :)

Thank you. Random unrelated Dirk doodle I never posted for picture. Heed the cut for info.

I may repeat myself here because I don’t reread my own posts and immediately forget everything I’ve said before on here but I’m not really sure “how long it took me” to be honest because I am not sure how to quantify that. I think I could go on for a lot longer than I did but I’m absolutely exhausted so please excuse any stupid writing.

Thank you for reading sorry if it is not helpful, ask me for clarification if something makes no sense. Here is drawing of myself I did today. Good day and “TLDR” : I developed my style by getting older and drawing and thinking a lot. Tanks

[slushfaerie]

plz write like a small blurb or fic if you want.. about cockwarming with art, hes like a lil puppy pelasessess

fem!reader x puppy!art - wc: 481 - nsfw, tw: pet play

ohhh sweet puppy art. 

you’ve had a long day with a long list of to-dos and he’s springing into action as soon as he hears your keys in the lock, pouncing on you as you’re walking in. presses wet kisses all over your face, wrapping himself around you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and staying there. he missed you :((

refuses to leave your side even for a second as you’re changing into something more comfortable. begs you with a silent nudge to hold him close and warm by your side as you order takeout for you both to enjoy and pour something to drink to wind down.

and there's something about the attention that he's giving you. it's coaxing the weight of the day to melt off your shoulders, how precious and doting he's being. how he looks up at you with those sweet eyes of his, the singular fixture in his head is you. 

later that night, you turn on something mindless on tv and lie down on the couch, pulling him into your arms. art settles into your embrace like he’s starved for you (he is).

he’s already squirming and panting heavily as you run your hands over him, tugging his shirt over his head. you can already feel the damp spot on his boxers as he begins to rut against you, friction leaving you breathless as he kisses everywhere he can reach. 

"been such a good boy." you say between gentle gasps. "why don't you stay inside as long as you want, baby?" art shudders.

he can’t hold back the whimper he lets out as he processes your words. you reach down to the elastic of his boxers, freeing his cock before rubbing it over the slit of your cunt through your panties, his pre-cum mixing with your own arousal. 

you allow him to finally rid you of your panties and put just the tip of him inside you. art's mouth falls open as he pushes inside you fully, whining against your neck. a moan of your own escapes your lips, hands full of angel curls as you soothe him. 

he struggles at first not to squirm or rush into it. does his best to take his time ridding you of your shirt, kissing your neck and collarbones. drools and runs his tongue all over your nipples before taking them into his mouth, one at a time.

but he can't help himself. he cums with a mewl as feels you fluttering around him, so warm and wet and perfect. heaven feels like you, he’s convinced. 

art collapses into your arms, gently panting against your neck as he catches his breath, still buried to the hilt inside of you. he has no plans of pulling out or leaving your arms anytime soon. 

he falls asleep clinging to you, exactly where he wants to be <33

[backmarkerr]

Winter Pitstop moodboard by the wonderful @racingghost

edit: there's also this amazing fanart [link]!

[erinwantstowrite]

wait

i really want more klepto peter

like dick being all

“where did you get that”

and peter being all “uhhh”

i have a joke set up in the christmas oneshot that implies he has been doing that since he was born and it's my favorite joke. like even before his powers he was foreshadowing being able to disappear and have everyone go "wait where's peter 😨" or him having something he is 100000% not supposed to have