#pls ignore that i have like

[gender-not-found-404-ao3]

@mur-art and @theywhoshantbenamed

have u two ever thought about how Runaway Baby by Bruno Mars gives Hawaii and Nevada vibes

[hinamie]

noir

[enderpawu]

walking through the city and dying inside ! (hes so real for that)

this time wanted to make more of a comic cus i am silly like that :3 also for anyone who doesnt know, this is for my hc au! its called "time magic" and if u like this then consider checking out my page, still a work in progress but arent we all.

[conspicuous-clown-car]

uhhh this is really messy and took me like 8 hours, but i feel like if i don’t finish this whole 6 minute animation im never gonna share a single thing of it, so im making sure i do not do that

[kagoutiss]

i like sidious & boba fett’s banter in BF2…… [has never played BF2]

[inzuinzudesu]

Translation: "Goodnight, Kakashi."

Another piece I drew from a while ago! Somewhere deep in my heart I kinda wish Obito'd won and just like put the world to sleep ya know, but then there'd be Kaguya and everything?? I'm actually not quite sure, that part is very blurry in my mind. Well point of this one is, I just wanted to draw something that looks sweet and sad and bitter and everything in between. Not sure if it really got across, I personally love this though 😭😭😭 Really went overboard with the effects but ummm I'm just extra okay spare me The original file is quite big, I had to compress it so the quality went down, you can't really zoom in all that much. Kinda sad that I can't share that, but oh well 😓 I feel like I can ramble on this site for some reason, and it's quite nice, even if nobody reads this haha

[lunacias]

(Silence. CARPENTER tries to rally HAYWARD's spirits. She's afraid she's going to lose him.)

"All three of us - we can all go on living, Hayward. Just like you said."

[kunikiiida-kuuun]

My heart wished to stay here, because it gave me a reason to live ♡

Fukuzawa + The Founding Trio

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: improper use of plumping lipgloss, mentions of alcohol, oral sex, it's steddie endgame i promise | crossposted on twitter

it’s no secret, steve likes making out. likes isn’t a strong enough word. he loves making out. loves grabbing hold of someone and pulling them close, loves laying over them on a couch, on a bed, hips just barely moving as he takes them apart with lips and teeth and tongue.

that doesn’t change once he’s had a few drinks either, body tingling with tequila or vodka or something equally strong that has his inhibitions thrown to the wind. he’s always able to find someone willing to dance with him, hips pressed together and arms wrapped around shoulders.

it’s usually girls, pretty things with pretty hair that draw steve in like a punch drunk happy moth to an overzealous flame. they’ll turn their heads with a flirty shy smile and follow him out to the dance floor before pressing up tight against his front.

they’ll curl their fingers into his where they rest low on their hips and keep him close. they’ll drop their heads onto his shoulder and let their breath ghost over the side of his face until he gets the all too obvious hint.

steve likes making out on a dance floor. no, not likes.

loves.

that is until his lips are covered in sticky, sweet lip gloss and he’s pulling away because his tongue is on fire, tingling from something other than alcohol and the thrill of being in a pretty girl’s mouth.

“what is that?” he yells into her ear over the bumping bass.

“sorry,” the girl says sheepishly, “it’s my lipgloss. it plumps my lips.”

she goes back in to kiss steve once more and he isn’t exactly going to deny her. her lips are pretty just like her, plump and shiny and all too inviting, so he kisses her back. the gloss is spicy on the cracks of his lips, on the tip of his tongue when he he pulls her lip in between his teeth. it’s addictive in a way. he wonders if his own lips will plump up from the contact alone.

later, when they say their drawn out goodbyes outside of the club, he’ll ask to borrow the lip gloss since his night isn’t over yet. she’ll pull it out with a grin and apply it so sweetly to her own lips and then to his. her touch is gentle and precise before she puts the tube back in her purse and then connects their lips for a final time.

steve likes to make out. no, not likes.

loves.

so he goes to a bar around the corner, robin hot on his coat tails with some blonde she picked up attached to her side, and he’ll order a vodka soda that he can sip through a straw so he doesn’t destroy his pretty glossed lips. the bar is grungy, but steve almost prefers that, able to blend into smoky shadows and dark corners while he watches the crowd.

while he watches someone in the crowd watch him back.

he has wild curly hair and handcuffs on his belt and steve swears he’s staring at his lips and the way the light is bouncing off of the gloss, but he isn’t too sure. not until there’s wild curly hair and handcuffs on a belt standing right in front of him.

steve has a different confidence with guys. maybe it’s because he has to read them a little differently. maybe its because he gets read by them a little differently, too. but flirting is flirting all the same and steve finds himself biting at his lip and licking away some of the spicy lip gloss with a wince as it burns the inside of his mouth.

curly hair handcuff guy is cuter once they start talking for a while, all animated and vibrant, a bright shiny beacon in a dingy bar. he finds out his name is eddie with a lingering handshake that means something, fingers trailing and tingling like they had a spice to them, too.

they don’t dance, but they do end up out back, sharing a cigarette as drunk people stumble around them. it’s easy enough for eddie to light, flame from the lighter sparking in his big, brown eyes.

“so steve,” he says, flicker of some other kind of spark in his eye, “where to?”

and steve knows how to do this part. he grabs the cigarette out of eddie’s mouth and puffs on it himself, blowing the smoke over his head. “is it too forward to say i don’t think i can last much longer without getting my mouth on you?”

eddie grins and lets his eyes flit down. “no. is it too forward for me to say that i’d let you do anything to me, mouth or otherwise?”

he takes the cigarette back and steve can see his trace left behind on the filter, can see when the hint of gloss hits eddie’s lips if the wrinkle of his eyebrows is anything to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just winks over at steve. he doesn’t say anything, just drags him into a taxi. he doesn’t say anything, just wraps a hand high over steve’s thigh, just pushes steve up against his apartment wall, just fumbles over handcuffs and pushes down his jeans.

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

if he loves making out, then he really fucking craves giving head. he feels like a cartoon animal with hearts popping out of his head as he pulls eddie’s cock out of his briefs. he licks his lips like he’s starving and regrets it when the gloss singes his tongue.

steve looks up from his knees and swipes a finger over his lips, holding it up high for eddie to see. “taste it,” he whispers.

eddie’s eyes widen, but he obediently bends his neck, tongue lolling out so he can lap at steve’s finger. “your lip gloss is spicy,” eddie says flatly as he recoils.

steve nods. “and it’s going on your cock unless you say otherwise.”

which is how steve finds himself turning eddie into a writhing mess. his hands hold onto the backs of eddie’s shaking knees as he works over his cock. his hair stings as eddie tugs on the strands. his eyes water as he sucks him in deeper and deeper into his throat, spicy lipgloss tingly on his tongue and cheeks.

“you are a fucking wonder,” eddie whines, hips humping as he grinds himself further into steve’s mouth. “just fucking made for this, huh?”

steve pulls off and spits on his cock to jack his hand over it as he pulls the head to his lips. he rubs the sensitive tip over his lips just to watch eddie twitch.

“you have no idea.”

he blows a line of cool air over the gloss that’s left there and drinks in the way eddie’s eyes roll back in his head before swallowing him back down, reveling in the spice that hits the back of his throat as he does so.

when eddie comes, he pulls steve off so he can paint his pretty, puffy, plump lips with it, dragging his cock over them to make a mess. it’s not a surprise when steve licks it off, spicy and salty and a special kind of sweet that he thinks is all eddie. he leans up to place a kiss into the thatch of hair over eddie’s cock, smearing behind come and shiny lip gloss.

“you gonna wait for me to come in my pants or can i go fuck you?”

steve likes making out. no, not likes.

loves.

and he loves giving eddie head. and he loves fucking eddie. and he loves waking up with a spicy, sticky residue on the side of his cheek after falling asleep with his head on eddie’s chest.

and maybe, just maybe, he’ll love eddie someday, too.

[labotor]

"I will let nothing part us again, my love. Not in this, or any other world."

[deansbeer]

hey girl. i love telepath! reader. ik it’s not halloween yet but i can literally see her trying to match bolt and be a playboy bunny. how do you think dean would react to that?🩷

oh, mans would so malfunction at the sight of her in a playboy bunny costume ‼️ + thank u sm for loving telepath!reader !!! it truly makes my lil heart so happy to hear <33

you're standing in your room, carefully applying the finishing touches to your halloween makeup as bolt lounges lazily on your bed, watching you with his twitching nose and curious little eyes. as usual, you're talking to him like he's your personal stylist.

"what do you think, bolt? the black ones or the pink ones?" you hold up two options of bunny ears in front of him. he doesn’t move, just stares, but you take his silence as an answer. "black it is. good choice, bub. classy."

he's your little partner-in-crime tonight, at least in spirit. you're going as a playboy bunny, and bolt, well, he's the inspiration behind the whole thing. he’s staying behind with dean and sam, though. you'd asked dean earlier if he could bunny-sit, and of course, he agreed. it wasn't like you asked him to do much—just keep an eye on the little furball while you were out.

you glance at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything is in place. the black satin bodysuit fits you like a glove, hugging your curves in all the right places. the sheer black tights make your legs look impossibly long, and the stilettos you chose—which you're still not entirely sure you won’t regret later—add the perfect touch. the bunny ears sit atop your head, completing the look.

"how do i look, bolt?" you ask, turning to face him with a grin. he twitches his ears, and you laugh. "yeah, i thought so. stunning, right?"

bolt doesn't answer, obviously, but you like to think he's silently hyping you up.

when you step out of your room, holding bolt in one arm and fixing the bunny ears as you walk, you head toward the library where sam and dean are. sam's sitting at the table, nose buried in some kind of research, while dean is leaning back in his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.

you adjust one of your heels as you step into the room, the soft click of them echoing in the quiet space. both of their heads snap up when they hear you.

"so?" you say, smiling as you approach the table. "how do i look?”

sam's the first to speak, a warm smile spreading across his face. "wow, you look great. very… festive."

you laugh, setting bolt gently on the table in front of him. "thanks, sam. you're watching him while dean drops me off, right?"

"yeah, no problem," sam replies, reaching out to scratch bolt behind his ears.

then you turn to dean, who hasn't said a word yet. he's just sitting there, staring at you like he doesn't know what to do with himself. his jaw is tight, and his eyes keep darting between your face and—well, everywhere else. finally, he clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter.

"you look… uh, good. yeah. real good," he says, his voice gruff.

you notice the way he shifts in his seat, his hand briefly brushing over his thigh as if he's trying to adjust something. you don't think much of it, though, just flash him a smile.

"thanks, de. ready to go?"

he nods, standing up a little too quickly. "yeah, let's go."

the ride to the party is quiet at first. you're messing with your phone, checking for texts from your friends, while dean keeps his eyes firmly on the road. but you can feel the tension in the air, the way he keeps shifting in his seat every few minutes.

"you okay over there?" you ask, glancing at him curiously.

"yeah, fine," he says quickly, his voice a little too sharp.

you raise an eyebrow. "you sure? you've been squirming since we left. what’s going on?"

he hesitates, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "just… sore, that's all.”

you tilt your head, confused. "sore? why would you be sore? didn't sam say you skipped working out today?"

he grits his teeth, clearly regretting his excuse. "just drop it, okay?"

you roll your eyes but don't push it. whatever's going on with him, he'll tell you if he wants to. maybe you'll just have to get inside his head yourself. but that's an invasion of privacy and you'd prefer him to tell you, rather than you sticking your nose in his business.

when you finally pull up to your friend's house, the street is already packed with cars, and you can hear the faint thump of music from inside. you spot your friend waiting near the door, waving excitedly when she sees you.

"thanks for the ride, dean," you say, opening the door.

"no problem, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice tight.

you step out of the car, adjusting your tights and tugging the bodysuit into place as you walk toward the house. your friend meets you halfway, pulling you into a hug.

"oh my god, you look so hot!" she gushes, pulling back to look at your outfit.

"so do you!" you reply with a laugh, but before you can say anything else, a guy steps out onto the porch, joining your friend.

he immediately places a hand on your shoulder, leaning in to introduce himself. you're polite, smiling and nodding, but you can feel the older winchester brother's eyes burning into the back of your head from the car.

he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. the guys laughs at something you say, his hand lingering on your arm a little too long for dean's liking.

"sonuva bitch,” dean mutters under his breath, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal as he pulls away from the curb. he doesn't even wait for you to go inside before speeding off, the tires squealing slightly as he turns the corner.

his heart is pounding in his chest, his mind racing with a mix of anger and jealousy. who the hell does the guy think his is, touching you like that? you're his girl. well, not officially, but still. you're his.

he spends the entire drive back to the bunker stewing in his own thoughts, alternating between cursing himself for not saying anything and cursing out the guy for daring to lay a hand on you.

back at the bunker, sam glances up when dean storms inside, slamming the door behind him.

"everything okay?" sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

dean doesn't answer, just heads toward the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge and mutters, "watch the damn bunny."

sam exchanges a confused look with bolt, who twitches his ears in response.

meanwhile, dean sits at the table, staring at the bottle in his hand, already counting down the hours until he can go pick you up—and maybe punch the guy in the face while he’s at it.

[gomzdrawfr]

Fish talk.

Price likes rainbow trout that he cooked himself in garlic and butter in a ration tin over an open fire. Nothin better than trout you caught, gutted and cooked yourself on the river bank. Bonus points for a bottle of something cold and hoppy to go along with it while he eats it on the river bank, still wearing his wellies and waders.

For Nik, it's calamari and grilled sea bass with a glass of white wine, maybe a sauvignon blanc from France, in some swanky hotel on the Adriatic coast. Just sitting there in beige chinos, an open shirt and bare feet, skin still warm from where he was basking in the sun all day, not even checking the bill before he pays for it.

Fish recipes by the one and only, now visualised (somewhat) hehe

bonus of my reaction:

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[kindred-spirit-93]

thetis and her grandbaby

the second panel originally was going to read "hes mine now" lol.

achilles probably jumped in after his mother (who went to show off to her friends), forgetting that neo is very cant breathe under water XD

look at his tiny lil hand holding onto her robes dfghjk. held my baby cousin last night and shes so light and squishy ahh. very babbly too :')

[shoplifting]

Your silent protagonist doesn't have to use sign language btw. They don't have to write things down, either. They don't have to use language at all. Not every single person who doesn't talk can use words the same as you, or use them at all, so your favorite silent character shouldn't have to use what you consider a grammatical language to communicate in your fanart and fics. AAC exists. Drawing exists. Gestures and body language exist. Btw.

[roseadleyn]

Hi! May I get a yandere bertol axios x nonchalant willing reader? Where y/n is not bothered if he's too possessive and instead love him back?

dug this out the very bottom of my askbox,,,, here it is nonnie! a whole year or something later 🫶🏻

RED MEANS I LOVE YOU. || axion vergette

( / fan translation : berzet )

tw : blood, murder, two psychopaths in love ( how cute <3 )

'Axion?' You call upon waking up to an empty bed, tangled within the sheets. It was a little routine between the two of you for him to wake you and kiss you a good morning before he left for his duties, and Axion wasn't one to rise early either, so...

You pad out of bed, his shirt large and comfortable and sweetly familiar with his scent, looking for him in his office, his libraries. Nothing. Then, just as you resign yourself to worry, the huge, oak front doors creak open and your husband and lover walks in and you gasp.

He's covered in blood. Down his shirt, his jaw, his hands coated in the thick, viscous red. His teeth are gritted in irritation, but his eyes are strangely cold. He sighs heavily before his gaze finds you, fixed in place with horror and worry.

'Sweetheart.' His voice is enveloping, warm, but tired. It makes your heart throb with need and want and love. 'Why are you out of bed?'

'That sounds like something I should be asking you,' you object, moving closer to gently inspect his face for injuries, careful and concerned for him. He closes his eyes with a low hum of pleasure at your touch. 'I woke up in bed and you weren't there!'

He sighs again, irritable and weary, drawing you closer, arms tight around your waist, head on your shoulder. 'I was out for important work, darling.'

'I suppose that's why you're covered in blood, then. A massive paper cut.' You never talk back to him, but it just slipped back, and you wince instantly. 'S-sorry.'

He snorts at your snide remark. 'Remember, I don't appreciate that tone, sweetheart. But as I've scared you, I'll tell you. I was not busy with work concerning papers. With work concerning people.'

You draw back, frowning in puzzlement. 'I didn't leave the manor, Axion! I promise.'

'I know you didn't,' he laughed softly. 'Oh, no use in hiding it from you, little minx. I didn't appreciate your butler's... gaze.'

'Wh-what do you mean?' You don't understand him. You don't care about any butler! You don't think you care about anyone other than Axion. If that makes you an awful person, then so be it.

'He was looking so lovingly at you, didn't you notice?' His voice is condescendingly soft. 'All those lingering touches, all those sweet words. He was getting in our way.'

How dare he? Trying to get in your way? If he did harbor his stupid feelings for you he should've cared for your happiness and in turn, known you were happiest with Axion! Ridiculous man.

You curl up to him in his arms. 'He... He's dead, then.'

Axion doesn't answer. He does that, sometimes — if he doesn't want you to know a particular thing. But right now it's useless. You know just how much Axion loves you, but also... how ruthless he could be in that regard. There's no way that man lived.

But whatever. He isn't worth thinking of.

Your husband kisses your temple and carries you upstairs after that, quiet but attentive. You wash the blood off of him, huffing over the particularly stubborn bits, before you drag him to bed. Your heart swells as he settles beside you in your bed, the room glowing with the pale blue and golden shine of dawn, curtains drawn defiantly against the sun. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you sigh blissfully and lean into him.

'I love you.' He whispers softly into the crook of your neck, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

'I love you too,' you say instantly. Because you do. Despite the locks on your door. Despite the guards positioned everywhere around the house. Despite the shackles in the corner of the room, kept 'just in case' (they were just precautions, anyways. He'd never do that to you!). Despite the little flecks of red on his knuckles that you'd missed. Despite the bloody knife lying downstairs to be cleaned.

You do love him. Why wouldn't you?