#procrastination am I right??

[lifemod17]

:::)

[evelili]

life imitates art and all that

[veinsfullofstars]

👑 Sworn Partners ⚔️ 

(ID: Kirby series fanart of King Dedede and Meta Knight being cute and in love. Top panel - bust shot of DDD scooping MK up into his arms, smooshing the flustered knight against him in a great big hug as a little flurry of hearts bursts from them. Middle panel - bust shot of DDD holding MK in his arms, gazing down at him with an easy grin as the knight pushes his mask to the top of his head, a fond smile on his face as he gazes back. Bottom panel - bust shot of DDD and MK leaning in together to meet in a kiss, eyes closed and faces flushed, the king holding his knight tighter, the knight gently cupping his king’s cheek. More little hearts hover around them, the biggest just above their heads. In all panels, DDD's crown and MK's armor are - as usual - touched with white highlights and dusted with sparkles. END ID.)

Sketch started some time early 2024, render started 03/18/24, finished 04/15/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24.

[incorrect-league-of-villains]

Tomura: Fuck off, old man.

All for One: I'm not that old. How old do you think I am?

Tomura: The last number.

[eatrockstheyrock]

Concept for all you writers out there. Wolverines (the animal) naturally secrete a foul smelling oder from their anal glands when provoked or frightened, now imagine Logan comes home to live with Wade and he absolutely stinks. Like seriously, not even the fanciest of soaps keep the smell away for long. And then all of a sudden, one day after a few months of living together the smell suddenly goes away. Wade doesn’t know why but yippee I guess, no more stink, and then one day he does Google it to figure out what that smell was and realises the smell stopped because Logan finally felt fully comfortable living with Wade.

And maybe he makes fun of him a little bit or he never tells anyone and uses the smell to gauge Logan’s actual emotions.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello! I loved the ghost girls from the comic you drew... a while ago and finally decided that if I don't draw them now, I'll never have time to do it. So. Here they are

Also thank you for your continuous propaganda of tiger tiger!!! I finally sat down to read it yesterday (the tab has been open for weeks? months???) and this was the best way to procrastinate uni homework, I don't even feel guilty. You have great taste

GHOULS NIGHT!!! They look amazing!

[spoopieere]

Idea: Asa wanted to set up traps at a gay bar but got distracted by the *gay* part in "Gay bar" instead.

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin HELP. How do you get out of writer’s block. Please. I’m stuck and I have NO idea how to continue on and I’ve already rewritten said scene twice 😭😭

i have to break it to you now... writer's block is a bit of a misnomer. instead of a writer's block (or art!!) i would call it a "writer shift" or "level up," when you feel like everything you're writing is terrible, it's because you're growing as an artist! you're just seeing your art with a more critical eye, learning and adjusting. which i can probably get to another time because that's not what you asked

so!!! what is probably happening is that you don't like your outline as much as you think you do. this happens to me ALL the time. i go into a chapter thinking that i've got everything i want all set up and then i'm surprised when i procrastinate or i rewrite it several times (my record is 8 times). a good 86% of the time i end up changing my outline and trying again and it goes much better for me

if that isn't what's happening or you just REALLY like your outline, there might be another problem and here's some ideas:

go back and read your set up to that scene. you might not have given it a proper introduction/natural progression into what comes next, or you might be forgetting something

try drawing out a map of your setting and imagine your characters walking around it. there might be some white room action happening and it's bothering you

it could be something about your dialogue! try acting out your dialogue in a one person play and see if it feels natural for you to say (as in like, technicality. if you can't literally say the words then it might be hard for your reader to read) and if it feels like something your character would say

[zoopzopp]

aoyama is suffering and it is very entertaining :D

scene from Raadsc by @gentrychild

[gum-iie]

“oh hello.”

[aromantic-academic]

Me: wow I sure do love academia and learning about all the wonders life has to offer!

Me the second I have to research a topic I am not interested in: life is meaningless. I should drop out and go live in the woods.

[ireadwithmyears]

Hey not to sound desperate or anything but can someone please tell me that they’re proud of me for applying to college?? I’ve literally been putting it off for months 😟 and I finally did it this morning🙌

[dreamingonmyown]

Watching the s2 finale again and want NEED to talk about how the final episode has multiple angsty vi parallels to s1e3 (aka the worst day of vi's life)

Her face when she sees the shimmer injected soldiers and that blonde freak 

(I'll put bigger spoilers below and also so this isn't too long)

Then she is pinned down and forced to look at a friend dead (Loris and Mylo/Claggor), who btw also probably reminded her of Vander

and then her sister is about to die and her not being able to do anything about it despite trying her hardest

anyways....

also sorry that some of the photos are bad quality, some of them I had to take of my computer screen on my iPhone because I wanted very specific frames that fancaps didn't have

[1650-1793-1941]

Aziraphale had always been able to feel when a place was loved. As an angel, love was very much in his remit. Often it was just a sense of warmth in a local coffee shop, or the infusion of countless weddings into the stone walls of a church keeping damp at bay. Tadfield had been a special case, Adam’s love for the place multiplying the feeling to almost unfathomable levels, but every close-knit village across the country hummed with a similar, albeit it far subtler, joy.

It was therefore not particularly strange to settle into the Bentley, reading himself for the drive to Edinburgh, and feel a wave of love from the vehicle. Crowley had loved the car for ninety years. That kind of attachment couldn’t possibly not leave a mark. Usually when Aziraphale was in the Bentley, he was sitting beside Crowley, whose terrible emotion processing skills worked hard to suppress the feelings, but now Aziraphale was alone he could tell the car was so clearly cherished. He couldn’t help but smile, running his hands over the leather of the steering wheel to reassure the car that he’d take good care of it, because it clearly mattered to Crowley so deeply.

It was thirty miles out of London that Aziraphale started to become aware that there was something slightly different about the love infused into the Bentley. Usually it went one way, a place was loved but it couldn’t really love back. The car, however, seemed almost fond of him. It played classical musical when Aziraphale asked it nicely, the horn honked merrily rather than with the aggression Crowley usually forced from it on the rare occasions he thought it worth using at all. The travel sweets and the new yellow detailing, the comfortable and warm leather seats, the safe driving speed – Aziraphale could feel the Bentley desperate to please him.

It was only after Crowley checked in through the radio that Aziraphale realised what was going on. It seemed mad to even think it, but it was the only logical answer. Crowley’s love, not just for the Bentley but for Aziraphale specifically, was laced into the fabric of the car, so strongly it was echoing back. He would never have believed it, but the same feeling he got from the car was threaded under Crowley’s words. He might have complained about the yellow paint and the travel sweets, but really he was checking in to make sure Aziraphale was alright. After millennia of existing together, Aziraphale had learnt to read between the lines. So when Crowley asked him to drive faster, he knew that didn’t mean put yourself in danger to get my car back to me quicker, it meant get yourself back to me as fast as possible, because I feel better when I know you’re safe. Aziraphale knew better than to point it out, but he also wasn’t going to protest – he loved a good caper, but he knew he’d also feel better when he was back at the bookshop. Back with Crowley.

[whohasthecards]

Just imagining, that in a scenario where Mav adopts Hangman or realizes that Jake is his son and takes him in. And it was rough at first as they get to know one another, the growing pains and all that, but they eventually found stability, strength, and love with one another.

But one day, Hangman did something that scared the shit out of Mav, that pissed him off so badly that he starts berating Hangman, shouting and all that. Hangman and the others have never seen Mav mad often, but Mav was just so terrified.

Jake just stands there jaw clenched, as he took it all. Scared that he fucked it up for good, putting his hands behind his back to make sure that Mav doesn't see them trembling.

Eventually Mav ends with a, "What can you say for yourself, Lieutenant Seresin!?"

And Jake opens and clenches his mouth shut, like a gaping fish, brow furrowed, but eyes looking straight forward, as if he was staring at nothing or at the wall behind Mav. Looking straight ahead, yet no where at the same time.

Everyone waits with baited breathe, waiting for Hangman to fight back, retort, or snap back with snarky comments because it's Hangman.

"I'm sorry, da-" Jake audibly snapped his jaw shut, wincing, "I'm sorry Captain Mitchell, it won't happen again." Jake paused, "I'm sorry." He said the added apology quietly, but it reverberated loudly throughout the room.

Mav took a deep breathe before dismissing all of them, leaving him in the empty classroom to collapse on his desk. Wondering if he had ruined the relationship with the son he just got. Thinking if he could have handled it better. Was his son scared of him, now?

Jake's limbs was heavy as he trudged back to his apartment. He was wracked with guilt, wondering why was he so abrasive, why did he always push, push, and push. Why did he fuck up so constantly. Why was he so Hangman and why couldn't he be better?

He went through the motions of cleaning himself up after he went home and curled up in bed to just, sleep the sadness away.

Mav lugged himself into Ice's office, where his husband was working on his desk and he moves behind his chair and wraps his arms around the man, burying is face in Ice's hair, as if to hide his shame.

"What's wrong, Mav?"

"I-I think I scared, Jake," Mav mumbled. "He couldn't even call me, dad."

Ice pulls the whole story out of Mav before he tries to comfort him saying that he and Jake will work things out. How fathers and sons always will have their ups and downs. Fathers are always scared that their sons will turn out too much like them, after all. Also, they are still captain and lieutenant, Jake was probably trying to keep rank.

The last part even Ice said hesitantly, Mav was never shy about letting his kids call him what they want. Neither was Jake.

"Oh god, I-I left him, Ice, I didn't talk to him, I--"

"Shh, maybe so, but you both needed some space, you can go to him, now, bring him home." Ice said, turning to pull Mav fully in his arms. "Everything will be fine."

Mav ends up outside of Jake's housing. Ice waiting in the car, he knocks. No answer. He knocks again. No answer. He gets worried, checking back to see if Jake's car really was there. He grabs a spare key and opens the door, the apartment eerily quiet.

He never notice how bare the apartment really was, Jake always took a lot of space.

His boots were there, though, so were his car and house keys.

He walked into his son's bedroom, softening at the sight of him curled up in bed. He moved closer sitting on the edge as he ran a hand through his son's hair, frowning at the warmth emanating from the boy's forehead. Although, he did see the boy's face softened.

Jake's eyes fluttered open, blearily peering up at him, "Dad?" He asked softly tugging at Mav's heart, inspiring him to lean down and kiss his forehead.

My son.

"Hey kiddo, you good?"

Jake blinked up at the soft kiss, before the day's events came rushing back to him, "Sir I--"

"You never have to call me, sir, okay? It's fine if you don't want to call me dad," Mav said, choking out the last part. "But, you'll always be my son, even when I'm mad, or even if you are mad, you will always be my son, unless you never want to be again."

Jake stared up, suddenly fully awake before jolting up and quickly wrapping Mav in a tight hug. The angle was awkward, but Mav didn't care. His son was in his arms.

Mav tightened his hold around his boy, cradling his head on the crook of his shoulder. Hushing him softly.

"I'm sorry, dad," Jake muttered.

"It'll be okay, we're okay," Mav muttered, holding his son a bit more tighter.

[mylove-thresher]

@gorygirllovesart I’m not halfway done yet… but I finished this diva first just for u ❤️ bc I’m literally the best. like. the. bestest ever. (/lh)