#it's heavily implied

[congressoutofwedlock]

Forgive me father, for I have sinned

After everything you have done for me, I couldn't even bring you home to rest.

Not ship art; more of a son grieving his father and what he feels he owes him.

This is heavily based on the painting "Ivan the Terrible and his son Ivan" by Ilya Repin, except the roles between father and son are switched.

I often think about the grief Eggsy must have felt being unable to give Harry a proper burial. He lost not one but two fathers, neither of whom gave him a corpse to mourn. (And of course, Merlin... one could even argue him as a third father figure. With that in mind, Merlahad wedding ring if you squint.)

[seawitchkaraoke]

You know when it came out that everyone but Lucy voted for the name ratgrinders, some specifically to spite Kipperlily? And we all were like aww that sucks, poor Kipperlily?

Yeah was that situation before or after she accepted the rage thing willingly and killed them all?

[tonia-aaaaa]

Old Double Life fanart that still goes hard, bc i put ridiculous amounts of thought into it back when i made it. This one was a hit on the 'gram.

[cthulhum]

i lied theres no sex. were gonna sit down and watch supernatural while we analyze the way almost every character is queer coded especially dean

[chloesimaginationthings]

What comic is the bottom left image of springtrap from? (On the post where you say why you draw him blocky)

It’s from this comic!! A very normal father son reunion

Og post here

[dragonpyre]

Batman: and this is my precious son

Red Hood: FUCK you

Batman: he bites sometimes but we still love him

[yeyinde]

waking up after a night out drinking in a foreign country only to realise that the bed you're in is not your own. no one is beside you. you try to leave but the doors are all locked. the windows won't open. you're trapped. a pretty bird in a cage.

nothing is in the dressers except large, old shirts. the clothes you were wearing when you woke up disappear after you take a shower. no panties. no bra. food shows up on schedule. you never see who leaves it.

they don't answer when you scream. when you bang your fists against the door until they're bloodied. passing out on the floor when the drugs finally kick in. but the mess you make in the daytime is cleaned up. your hands bandaged. disapproval heavy in the air along with the stale scent of tobacco. smoke.

when you're good, you get things. books. magazines. treats. your favourite food. a laptop arrives when you sob yourself to sleep after screaming yourself hoarse about loneliness, and how this isn't right. this isn't okay. it's restricted, of course. you log into Facebook but the moment you try and ask for help, the internet is turned off. you're being watched. monitored closely.

you learn your lesson slowly, giving nothing away to your family and pretending you're enjoying your holiday. being good. quiet.

instead of treats, gifts, recipe books arrive—some pages dogeared. you start making the food. leaving a plate in the fridge. it's gone the next morning. more recipes appear. you make them, too. an expensive chain comes next. a pretty gold necklace for a pretty bird in a golden cage.

(each meal gets you a strange rash on your cheek, jaw the next morning. beard burn, you think, and try not to shudder.)

lingerie comes after. silk, lace. all of it fits perfectly. you try to avoid it. the idea, the implication, is a knife between your ribs, but the next morning, your laptop is missing. the books are gone. food, too. your clothes disappear until all that remains is the lingerie set and a little black box. one you pointedly ignore. throw out with the trash. chew on gum to make the ache in your belly go away until that vanishes too.

your world is narrowed down to hunger. loneliness. isolation—

(in the corner of the rooms, a red light glints in the dark. lonely, but not alone.)

it persists until you relent. give in. another lesson you learn. you wear the set to bed, and try to think nothing of it—

you wake up to something heavy around you. a warm, thick body pressed against your bare spine. coarse chair tickling the skin between your shoulder blades. a burly arm under your neck, elbow bent to wrap a rough hand around your neck. the other slung over your hip, shoved between your thighs. something hard presses into your ass. a bruising pressure. it aches. you stifle a gasp, but with his long, thick fingers wrapped tight around your throat, he feels it.

everything goes still. quiet. just the faint rustle of sheets. the scratch of coarse hair on silk. a breath. you tremble. fight back another gasp when lips press into your crown with a sharp inhale. scenting you. nuzzling into your scalp. warm breath that smalls of malt and honey. woodsy. tobacco.

your eyes adjust slowly to the dark, and fall on a black box left on top of your end table. velvet, you know. you've felt the softness between your fingers when you threw it in the trash with a sob. no escaping it, after all.

the hand between your thighs twitches. when he speaks, it shudders through your spine, makes your hair stand on end. it's a growling purr. the low roar of an old engine. more grit than comfort in the midnight dark.

"jus' close your eyes, love," he rasps, pushing his thick body tighter against you. coiling around you like a big, hungry bear. "an' go back to sleep for me."

and you do.

[j1gsawz]

considering the order of the hypnosis endings… this was the last new scene in the whole show. the last new thing we saw. and the writers knew that. in this universe and every universe, guillermo de la cruz and nandor the relentless love each other and that’s canon.

[eriochromatic]

Last minute self indulgent pride illustration featuring my comfort characters and personal headcanons ✨✨✨

[deviltownresident]

serious question: is elias bouchard just. allergic. to employing straight people. anytime he looks at his employees, he's like "ah yes, i know who we've got here. bi ace man who really shouldn't be in a managerial role, man who will fall in love with his boss who barely talks to him, a lovely young woman who probably isn't straight, a man who fucks with cops of all genders for information, an angry lesbian, an aromantic ex cop, and Daisy Tonner." peter lukas comes in like "have you considered employing some heterosexuals?" and elias just goes "nope"

[shmypko]

uhh.... nothing in particular on my mind. just arthur (im still tired but want to draw (AND i have more ideas for johns design.... dudes gonna get another arm)). and I KNOW arthur likes to wear wide pants GOD what a wide pants loving man.

yea dont look at the title of the file. theres nothing special. SURELY theres nothing that i will draw in the future once i get my shit together. SURELY....

[zinnie-zoloft]

I don’t think people acknowledge enough that Charles is canonically completely open to the possibility of loving Edwin back… like he just straight up admits it’s not out of the question he just needs time to figure it out and somehow people are still saying he’s never expressed any interest in Edwin romantically

[sunllghtt]

Saw this on Twitter

[mxmajor]

Listen, the way this is a formative film for me?

Like as soon as I saw them in the coordinated dark sweatshirts...I just let myself believe that Chris knows and he knows that the knowers know.

And that maybe we aren't supposed to know because Syd & carmy aren't in their final act so they haven't fully realized yet.

Cause he isn't doing any of this accidentally. This isn't just Ayo+ Jeremy chemistry, this is costuming, lighting, musical/lyrical, narrative, and cinematographic choices lol.

All this "Syd is a lesbian" allegations reminds me of another John Hughes movie, Some Kind of Wonderful. And as we know Chris doesn't shy away from Hughes references.

Sounds familiar, right? Well Keith also has a best friend that everyone thinks is a lesbian.

They even dress the same and they rely on each other a lot.

By the end of the movie he realizes that she has been in love with him and that he is in love with her, and he gives her a gift to wear that he spent literally all his money on. Sounds familiar right?

Just some food for thought.

[gammaraydeath]

on space wikipedia, reading about space things

[burloire]

Happy Self-Indulgent Spicy Solavellan Sunday everyone. Featuring as usual Mr. Dragon Age Himself, Solas Wifeguy. This weeks inspiration comes from Every Single Solavellan fic I have read the last 30 days. It is many, unlimited, most. All? Mayhaps. Also, additional shout out to every Boudoir photographer/models who posts their shoots online. Truly an inspiration. *3*