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para el dĂa 13 de Maymaginations hoy le toca a comida
para este dĂa decidĂ dibujar a el prĂncipe puppycorn quiĂŠn estĂĄ todo feliz comiendo una de sus comidas favoritas la pizza đśđ.
âĄá°ŕŤŽâ Ë â¤ Ë âáâĄá°ŕŤŽâ Ë â¤ Ë âáâĄá°ŕŤŽâ Ë â¤ Ë âá
for day 13 of Maymaginations today it's time for food
For this day I decided to draw Prince Puppycorn who is all happy eating one of his favorite foods, pizza đśđ..
#artwork#cartoon network#drawing#food#lego#pizza#unikitty#day 13#drawing digital#puppycorn#prince puppycorn#mayimaginations#maymaginations 2024#maymaginations challenge#imaginationcore#puppy corn#may maginations#may imaginations#Unikitty!#my art#art post#art tag
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It's honestly crazy that discussion around testosterone HRT skews so much towards the beginning stages of it (to the point that you have dozens of guys thinking their transition is "failed" if they don't pass by like a year in lol) and what the initial changes of the first couple of months to years look like, like the classic laundry list of those early basic changes like bottom growth, voice drop, etc, when IMO literally none of that compares remotely to the depth and intensity of the long term total masculinization you start to experience like 3-5+ years in.
#also has made it increasingly difficult to relate to those early into their transition honestly#like not in a bitter way itâs just like hard to express how diff the experience is#of being like a year on T vs 5 đ#ETA I muted this post ages ago now but fwiw seeing transphobes pop up in the notes on occasion just to say cruel reactionary shit#you are clowns I cannot imagine seeing a post that is ONLY about discussing with folks about the reality of a medication#and choosing to make that your moment to get a schoolyard bully jab in about how you find it gross or something.#you are less well adjusted than most children. may the universe be kinder to you than you are to others.
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The ending of FNAF Help wanted..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#fnaf vanny#fnaf vanessa#glitchtrap#luis cabrera#fnaf help wanted#horror#horror art#WOO HOO more spooky art!#wanted to do some spookier art with Vanny#I don��t think people give enough credit how scary her whole deal is#she literally loses her own mind to glitchtrap#and doesnât even fully remember everything she does as Vanny#thinking of Glitchtrap in a human body#controlling Vanessa#I can only imagine heâs so uncanny#doesnât sit right doesnât stare right#I wanted to capture what the possession may of looked like#sheâs okay guys :) promise!
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Cricket Cat concept. Do you see it? Do you see my vision? I don't think they'd purr or meow, just chirp with their wings.
#creature design#bug art#my art#i've been trying to CAPTURE WHAT I WANT in multiple sketchbook pages#i liked how these turned out#there may be an alternate version with the mandibles ... but i figured most people wouldn't find it charming like i would haha#it was interesting trying to imagine how those grasshopper like legs could be used in a cat like walking pattern#i love black cats and i love black crickets....#bugs#insect#it's a fictional bug of course but i'm tagging it just in case
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can someone please get this girl her dog back
#sansa stark#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#game of thrones#got#i dont remember how lady is described and didnât bother looking it up but pretend thats lady use ur imaginations <3#hereâs how we can still win (convince the lord of light to resurrect a direwolf that was killed years ago)#working may way thru the stark babiesâŚâŚ.. maybe bran nextâŚ..#but for now itâs sansaâs moment <33333 my beautiful strong amazing perfect daughter who has overcome so much
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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing theâ DPxDC Prompt
âWoah. You look like shit."
Granted, thatâs probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; heâs not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
#I AM LOUDLY PUSHING THE BATDAD AGENDA#anyways��� add ons are encouraged i wanna talk more dpxdc with folks i just cant find any aus i really like enough to engage with#which is nobody's fault and its why im making my own content in order to reach more people#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc#dp x dc#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc crossover#dpdc#dc x dp#dpxdc prompts#i took a âwhich batfam member are you (except its personal)â quiz a few days ago#and got bruce wayne. and then was promptly read to filth why im most like him and it rudely but accurately explained why im the most like#him. it also consequently explained to me why i like him so much. whenever i see him in his kindest form i see a mirror looking back#anyways lots of âdanny rejecting bruce as a parentâ aus. may i present: bruce and danny finding family in each other aus. batdad aus pls.#dpxdc prompt#dcxdp#this prompt can take place at any point of Batkid accumulation but personally i was imagining this as before Bruce has any of his kids yet#eldest brother danny supremacy and also just that one on one bonding#danny being someone who was never afraid of the dark as a kid and even less so as he got older. taking solace in it as a ghost because you#cant hide in the dark when you glow. his enemies can't jump out at him. but he can jump out at them. how can he be afraid of the dark when#the dark is where the stars like to live? there's a comfort in the shadows. there might be something hiding in it. but he's hiding in it to#blood blossoms eat ghosts headcanon#wasn't sure where i was gonna go with this at the beginning and then i caught steam.#batman casually kidnaps an orphan upon kid's request. also the kid was Actively Dying Of Poison. What was he gonna do?? NOT help him?#mister 'keeps candy in his utility belt specifically for scared children'??? no way.
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when caitlyn asked jayce 'viktor is at the center of this, isnt he?' and jayce had a flicker of a memory of viktor smiling down at him. what the hell was that about.
#space.txt#arcane#arcane spoilers#jayvik#AND IT WAS THE MOMENT BEFORE JAYCE KILLED HIM TOO#IM ALMOST CERTAIN HE JUST IMAGINED A TIME VIKTOR MAY HAVE SMILED AT HIM#1k#2k
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Maizula nation please where r u
#maizula#azula#mai atla#they r so.#i think we as a fandom ignore how obsessed azula actually is with mai and all the boiling rock situation#my god when she find out abt mai's new boyfrriend and she just WHOS THIS IMBECILE.#IJUST HTINK THEY R PPERFECT TOXIC YURI AND YOU ALL SLEEP ON IT#Mai its like#imagine the worst person you ever meet it's now crying like a child demanding you answers#what do you even say in here
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Bed side drawer - Peter Parker
summary: when Tony finds a box of condoms in Peter's bed side drawer, he doesn't expect Peter's girlfriend to walk into the room, causing an awkward interaction. a/n: my toxic trait is that i always imagine tasm!peter even tho it's in the avengers universe 0.6k wc
When Peter walks into his bedroom, the first thing his eyes lay on is the box of condoms in his mentor's hand. Tony Stark smirks from where he sits on his mentee's bed, drinking the cup of coffee Aunt May had so graciously prepared him. Peter's eyes go wide, flickering between his open bed side drawer and his mentor, and he dives across the room to get the box from him. Peter nearly hits his head against the wall when Tony tosses the box in the air, catching it in his hand when it falls down again. Peter's face flushes red as he scrambles back up, straightening his bed sheets where he haphazardly landed on them, mouth gaping open. Peter can hear you laughing with his Aunt May in the living room about another one of May's stories. She always had to tell you about the stories of how smitten he was with you, an attempt for your relationship to last forever. He needs to get that box before you walk in because that was not the situation he imagined you'd meet Mr. Stark in. He refused to let it happen.
Peter tilts his head to the side with desperate eyes, begging "Please give me those Mr. Stark." Tony grins teasingly, saying "You know these only work when there are two people involved, right?" Peter doesn't have time to react before the door to his room opens again and you walk in, saying something about the story Aunt May had told you before your eyes land on the older man in the room, prompting you to go silent. Oh no, Peter thinks. Tony quickly's eyes quickly scan you where you awkwardly stand in the doorway, and the obvious mortification that settles on your face at the realisation of who he is.
"Oh."
"Oh." Tony's tone is suggestive, and completely different from yours. He stands up from Peter's bed, slowly making his way across the room to you. His eyes flicker between you and Peter, the box of condoms still in his hands as you shoot a hand out in front of you, smiling nervously and saying "Hi, I'm y/n." in a lowsy attempt to ignore the box laying in the man's hand, eyes glancing down to it a couple of times. Tony shakes your hand, introducing himself, before asking "And who might you be y/n?" Gulping, you glance between your boyfriend, whose face has flushed a dark shade of red, and the avenger standing in front of you. "I'm Peter's girlfriend." You state, eyes widening as Tony puts the box of condoms in your hand.
"There are two people involved then..." You hear him mutter under his breath, but it's nothing as embarrassing as Aunt May walking into the busy room and observing the situation, attention immediately caught by the box of condoms that you throw at your boyfriend in a panic. The box hits Peter's chest and falls on the floor, and neither of you make a move to pick it up whilst you smile awkwardly at May, who follows Tony out of the room. You huff when they walk out, turning around to dig your head into Peter's chest in humiliation. Your boyfriend hugs you close, rubbing a hand on your back, and he's happy you can't hear Tony say "That girl seems too sweet to be having sex with your nephew." or his Aunt May's scoff of "Yeah until you come back home after a night with your friends and hear everything through those walls. She really knows how to talk dirty."
#peter parker smut#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#peter parker#spider man#aunt may#peter parker fluff#peter parker x you#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker mcu#tom holland peter parker#mcu#avengers#avengers x reader#avengers x you#rainydayathogwarts#ultimate spider man#tasm!peter x you#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter x reader#tony stark
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Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the cafĂŠ next door (':
Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)
He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.
It's hunger.
And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-
He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).
But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesnât know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.
You're so soft.
You look like youâve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.
And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the cafĂŠ where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.
You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.
He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.
It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the cafĂŠ for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.
"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."
You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.
That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-
(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)
But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.
"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."
You clearly didnât expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.
"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."
"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps thatâs why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.
You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."
"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.
"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."
He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.
(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)
He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.
It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.
He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.
Doesn't mean he likes it, though.
(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).
So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the cafĂŠ like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.
And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.
"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.
You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But itâs not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.
It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-
Until it's not.
He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.
"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"
It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.
"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."
He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.
The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.
But you're watching.
"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"
The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.
"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."
And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.
"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.
He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.
It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.
"Simon-"
"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.
And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.
"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."
"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."
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Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about đŤ đ
Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).
#you have a sweet little blossoming romance until tommy starts acting up and simon joins the army#but youre his first love and who knows...there may be a future for you years down the line#when old grizzled simon spots a familiar pretty face walking the streets of manchester while he's on leave#and reallyďźhim watching you and looking out for you is a relationship tradition at this point (:#idk im not confident with this and its not great but the idea was lingering and idk self indulgent#simon riley cod#simon âghostâ riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley/reader#ghost cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#cod fanfic#cod imagine#bĂĄirseach writes#cw implied abuse#cw fatphobia
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iwtv ships + book quotes
#iwtvedit#iwtv#interview with the vampire#loumand#loustat#danstat#lesmand#armandaniel#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#armand#daniel molloy#I KNOW that not all these make sense out of the context of the books#and i'm only three books in there may be Juicier Quotes later but i'm working with what i've got so far#also many of these are edited for brevity or tying together two sentences from opposite sides of a paragraph#let me cook!!!!! they're all direct quotes just lightly arranged for impact#basically my point is: vampire polycule REAL!!!!!!#they're all in love with one another. wanting and inviting one another. planning and imagining futures together.
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para el dĂa 27 de Maymaginations hoy le toca a dulce
para este dĂa decidĂ dibujar al adorable perrito de orejas largas conocido como cinnamoroll quĂŠ tienen sus patitas un dulce rollito de canela đś.
ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛ăŁË -・ęąŕžŕ˝˛ŕ§§ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛ăŁË -・ęąŕžŕ˝˛ŕ§§ŕťę°ŕžŕ˝˛ăŁË -・ęąŕžŕ˝˛ŕ§§
for the 27th of Maymaginations today it's sweet's turn
For this day I decided to draw the adorable long-eared dog known as Cinnamoroll whose paws have a sweet cinnamon roll đś..
#artwork#cinnamoroll#cute#drawing#hello kitty#sanrio#sweet#hello_kitty#day 27#drawing digital#maymaginations#mayimaginations#maymaginations 2024#maymaginations challenge#imaginationcore#sanrio fanart#may maginations#may imaginations#my art#art post#art tag
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Columbo and the Knight (1984)
put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.
Autism W!
#columbo#knight rider#art#michael knight#kitt#comic#highlight reel#crossover#telebeast#there are two small easter eggs here. can you find them. they were somehow not Entirely lost when i resized these for the public#this is what i mean when i say I Draw And It's Everyone Else's Problem. look at my INCREDIBLY niche crossover comic boy#if the knight rider fandom has like 12 people in it. how many of y'all have seen columbo#this comic is for like 4 people and me and phoenix are already two of them#niche is my specialty lets be real. weird niche obscure shit and ships nobody's paid attention to yet#not to suggest this is ship art. columbo has his wife and michael has his car lmfao#stylizing real people is EXTREMELY hard btw sorry for when they get off model. its partly a 'better imperfect than never finished' situatio#cant tell you how much i redrew some of these panels. weeps#this took me 2 weeks but i think i thumbnailed it all in may and the ideas been rollin around in my head since march#is anybody good at editing. please edit michael and columbo into an image together like its a screenshot. NOT generated. edited.#it would be so cool#ive drawn columbo a lot but i haven't drawn a lot of michaels. i was learning things about his outfit AS I WAS DOING THE DAMN#COLORS ON THIS. all the lines done. it was too late to change anything. i did all the lines and colored page by page#i realized my mistakes on like page 3. 1 and 2 were already done. it was Too Late.#imagine it though. them working a case together. switching between the more serious tone of columbo vs the goofier#action antics of michael and kitt. columbo being so impressed by Modern Technology. there's more i could say but phoenix may write#more of this crossover and i don't want to spoil it :'3#there's opportunity here though i swear. there's gold to be dug.#i like how kitt gets shading but columbo's junker peugeot doesn't. kitt looked wrong without any. columbo's car is matte and dirty#i also applied effects to this to make it look a little film-grainy and VHS like. some CRT TV vibes#the only question left is. did they put knight rider into columbo; or columbo into knight rider đ¤
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from: kevin, to: andrew
#this may seems like a weak baby kevin#but actually itâs just kevin knowing andrew is there when he needs him#and andrew never getting mad when he does#âyou cameâ âyou calledâ etcetcetc#i just canât forget that kevin needs somebody with him a lot of the time#and i imagine he panics sometimes when he canât find andrew#he has anxiety okay#idk#kevin day#andrew minyard#aftg#all for the game#imagine this is once every like two months
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I Missed My Funeral
jason todd x reader
aka you learn what happened to jason
warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort
You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.
Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe thereâs truth to one of them. You hope not.
Itâs something you havenât been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when youâre using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.
Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldnât.
You know he died. He never said it out loud, but youâd seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. Youâd always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that heâs comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but itâs also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities.Â
Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you canât keep your cat-killing thoughts away.
âYouâre being quiet,â He comments, not accusatory, just factual.Â
You snap out of reverie, âSorry, Iââ
His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, âDonât be sorry. Whatâs going on?â
âI justâŚâ you look down, thinking over your words. âWhatâŚwhat happened to you?â You ask quietly.
He goes still.Â
You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, âIâm sorry, I donât need toââ
He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. âNo, itâsâŚitâs okay. Probably shouldâve said something by now.â
He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. Itâs a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isnât any more relaxed.
âIâŚyou know I used to be Robin?â His voice is low, hesitant.
You nod.
âWellâŚI made a mistakeâa few mistakes. I wasnât as careful as I shouldâve been and I walked into a trap.â
Youâre sure heâs placing more blame on himself than he should, though you donât know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that youâre here with nothing but support and reassurance.
His breath stutters, âThe, uhâŚthe Joker set me up andâŚwell, he killed me.â
You donât want to ask how. You donât want to know how. But you feel like you have to and itâs selfish and you know that but you canât leave just it at that.Â
Itâs a barely audible whisper. Youâre not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.
His next exhale is shaky, âYeah, um, thatâs the rough part.â
Your head twitches. âThatâs the rough part?â You breathe out, scared to hear whatâs next.
You canât see from this angle, but Jasonâs eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part.Â
âHeâŚhe beââ he stops himself. ââŚHe hit me with a crowbar. A lot.â
Oh.
You can physically feel your chest sink.
Thatâs worse than all the horrifying scenarios youâd built up in your head. ThatâsâŚhe was beaten to death. For trying to help people.Â
You donât want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to.Â
âHow old were you?âÂ
He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like heâs trying to ground himself. âFifteen,â He murmurs into your hair.
Oh. Â
You flip over so youâre chest to chest with him and hold him tight. âIâm sorry.â
He wasnât expecting you to say that. The very very few times heâs had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.
But youâre sorry. No oneâs ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didnât do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do youâŚdo you feel bad for him?
He swallows hard, âYouâre sorry?â
âYeah,â You say, furrowing your brow. âYouâre a good person, Jay. Youâre a really good person andâŚyou didnât deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that youâve been through so much and Iâm sorry.â
He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go.Â
He shakes his head weakly, âIt was my own fault.âÂ
âJason,â you say seriously. âIt was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, werenât you?â
It takes him a moment to respond to that. âIâyeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.â He takes a breath, âHe, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help herâI tried. But she gave me up to try and save herselfâŚit didnât matter in the end.â
While you didnât know about the history with his birth mom, youâd been sure heâd died helping someone. Thatâs just who he isâwhether he knows it or not.
âThere was a bomb and itâŚâ He lets that bit trail off. âI donât remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.â
He doesnât remember the explosion. ButâŚ
He does remember the other part.
You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesnât see the way your eyes well up.Â
âPlease know youâre a good person. Please,â you plead. âYouâre the best person I know.â
âButâŚâ his breath comes out shaky, âNo oneâŚno one did anything.âÂ
The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasnât let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesnât feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.
His voice breaks as he says, âHe killed me and he didnâtâŚâ
You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. âThatâs not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didnât do, it has nothing to do with you. Itâs all about him.â
You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.
You know he hasâŚproblems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and thereâs some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isnât allowed out on patrol when heâs loose.Â
Thereâs clear trust issues there, on both sides, but youâve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between themâyouâd been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldnât stop it, but thisâŚthis is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesnât belong in his family.Â
You take a heavy breath, âYouâre important. Youâre important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldnât get over doesnât change thatâit has nothing to do with how good you are.âÂ
Youâre definitely crying now but at this point it doesnât matter. Itâs more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isnât as horrible as it is.
He doesnât look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You donât see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.
You sniffle, âDo you wanna switch?â
He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.
You kiss the top of his head, âI love you. So much.â
He holds you tighter, murmuring âI love you,â into your chest.
Itâs quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.
Youâre the first to pipe up again, âHow didâŚâ
He exhales, âAhâŚitâs a little complicatedâŚâ
He wants to talk about it another time. Thatâs fine by you.
Another silent minute passes before, âBruce isnâtâŚheâs not a badâŚwe had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over âem.â Thereâs a beat before, âStill getting over âem.âÂ
You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.
âIs that why you donât like being at the batcave?â you ask.
âNo,â he murmurs. âItâs âcause he keeps the suit on display.â
You look down at him, frowning. âWhat suit?â
âThe robin suit.â
You pause.
âThat robin suit?â
He nods.
âŚwhat
for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well
đŽđŻď¸the reblog witch bids you do her bidding đŻď¸đŽ
#i may have cried a little#had this son of a bitch in the drafts since MAY#unofficial part one to the previously posted#jason todd loves his gf#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd/reader#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc x you#dc fanfiction#dc fanfic#batfam imagine#batfam x reader#jason todd thoughts#red hood/you#red hood/reader
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are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid
#that's the hottest thing I've ever heard I feel nuts#what an absolute chad alistair continues to be tbh there may be a day when men fail but it will not be when he's here#like I'm very sorry to the blond chantry boy repeat crowd but cullen could & would NEVER!!! they are NOT the same!!!!#dragon age#dragon age origins#alistair theirin#alistair x warden#can u imagine what it must be like to be irving standing there watching this happen. you're free and your kid is dead. congrats#tried to free her from the circle and she's the sacrificial lamb that bought the circle's freedom instead. fuck dude#it does make for a very sad kind of symmetry that every time irving tries to get clever with it he triggers a monkey's paw situation fhdskj#I am replaying the game with my new canon (mistress amell + king alistair to save him from the da:i fade choice lol)#and in doing research I found out about this and had my world rocked. I've never had my warden die before so this is new to me#(my warden isn't dying in this canon to be clear she's going to be the reason no one would dare assassinate king alistair lol#nightmare bae eminance gris behind the throne/loving and supportive partner with a fade connection and a vengeful side#she's going to be like sam vimes tiredly fending off assassins as the watch books go on except she murders a lot more people back)#the way his voice breaks in the version where they were broken up tho... sick and twisted and mean to me specifically
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