#self-indulge all you need!!!

[themeraldee]

this is super self-indulgent and feel free to ignore this but i just had one of the worst days ever and am feeling every hated by everyone, how would homelander react?

I'm sorry you're having a terrible time sweetheart. Hope things only get better for you! Sending all my love 💗

He'd be immediately worried to see you come home, sensing that you're not yourself. Normally you'd greet him, hug him and tell him how much you miss him but now all you want to do is hide and breakdown into tears.

He'd immediately want to know what's wrong. He hates seeing you upset, especially when you're both just meant to be happy and feel complete in each other's presence. So anytime that doesn't happen....well, someone's gonna have to pay.

Homelander is best at showing affection through his powers. Whenever he gets to menacingly flash those pearly whites along with a tight grip around someone's neck is where he performs the best. So if you point at people that have wronged you, ones that are responsible for your misery, they're not long for this world! Or at the very least due a smackdown.

(I could see him trying to distract you in any way. Taking you for a scenic flight-because wow isn't flying awesome-around the city or enticing you with taking you on a holiday or buying you things he knows you like. Anything to get you thinking more about how he's good to you and less about how terrible you're feeling. It's only when you're still visibly upset and really just want to lick your wounds in peace is when he tries to tackle the issue head on and get you talking. I'm really just thinking about the Ryan scene where he took him to Voughtland just to quickly take him back to the cabin when he got upset.)

I also think it'd be a good bonding time for you two to talk about how you feel disliked or hated by people around you. Which as much as he can relate to, he'd also very much turn it into a '"you don't need anyone else when you've got me."

But actually soothing you and doing damage control I'd say is something he needs a lot more practice in. Although he will more than happily hug you, kiss you and most importantly take you to bed (because in his mind if you're too busy feeling good you won't have time to think about the bad). I still think his soothing words leave much to be desired. He's definitely much more of a getting his hands dirty kinda guy so he would want you to witness him defending you and fighting for you so you could tell him how much better you feel with him around.

(Essentially you'll have to make sure you give your personal attack dog plenty of treats and belly rubs bcs god forbid something isn't about him for one second 😂)

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[artilite]

have a lion dance for these trying times ♥♥

[800db-cloud]

i’m gonna carve you :)

[sysig]

Those wacky skeletons ♥ (Patreon)

[fishbloc]

death stranding au because ds2 trailer made me shameless and forced me to draw this idea i had in my head for months. sorry this won't make sense unless you've played the game...

[starflungwaddledee]

some rather strong first impressions were made.

required reading for the magical "voice" headcanon and another for starstruck's signature in particular. asked by @trainerbob23 !

[ibblescribbles]

TRASH 🚮 Speedpaint | Alt under cut:

[stiffyck]

i need more people to be insane over others very specific aus that are very far from the original. its fun i promise

i need to see more very fanon designs i need to see super specific aus please make the most self indulgent aus and self indulgent designs and please people reblog it i wanna see it i wanna see all of it can we REBLOG MORE ART PLEASE

[mosaickiwi]

Patience

hi i really like this post so i wrote it!!! (my hobbies include robbing sai)

warning: Angel coming down from a panic/anxiety attack while Ren waits in da hallway. Also a little self loathing if u squint?

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

The tightness in your chest was finally waning. You took a deep breath—the easiest one you'd had in what seemed like hours. 

It felt cold on the floor now. Or maybe it'd been like that since the moment you locked yourself in. But you were more aware of it, at least. You leaned back against the wall with a sigh, closing your puffy eyes. Though your hand trembled, you gently rapped your knuckles on the marble flooring.

A faint knock on the door to your right came in response.

[REDACTED] had been there the whole time while you cried. They never said a word, but always answered you in some form. I'm here.

Vulnerability was shameful according to the voice in your head. You were making gradual progress to get rid of that voice, to give yourself the grace you gave others to seek comfort when needed. And if he couldn't see you, letting it all out didn't feel so bad. All you needed was to know that they were close by.

You tried to speak and only managed to throw yourself into a coughing fit from how raw your throat was. Hunching over with your head on your knees, you could only wait until it was over. There were hurried footsteps from the other side of the door that you barely heard over the haggard sounds.

This time, they reached out first. It wasn't a knock like usual, but your phone vibrating atop the marble. You felt around on the floor until it was within your grasp. The simple message on screen turned clear as you gently wiped at your eyes, still blurry from earlier.

water?

Despite your exhaustion, you laughed, then silently winced at the slight pain it caused. Any help or care he could offer was always within seconds when it came to you. 

It took you a few measured breaths to gather yourself enough to unlock the door. Along with a thin line of light, a water bottle slid through the small gap, only the tips of his scarred fingers coming into view before they disappeared altogether. You opened the door a little wider and tilted your head to peek out at him.

His dark mess of hair greeted you, rather than his face. [REDACTED] was sitting on the floor, almost the same as you were minutes ago with his back to the wall, knees bent and arms crossed over them. They made sure to keep their head turned away. He knew you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.

You stretched out into the hallway to touch his shoulder. It was the only way you thought to offer some form of a thank you in the moment. Their muscles flexed and shifted under your fingers, but otherwise, they didn’t acknowledge you.

The room seemed stuffy now, so you kept the door open just a crack for a little fresh air. You scooted back to your place beside the door, then slowly drank the water in peaceful silence, the man that sat still as a statue within arms reach at the corner of your vision. Everything still ached in some way from the crying session. But it wasn’t as long as usual. You tapped on the floor and watched him.

Through the space no bigger than your pinky finger, you saw your partner immediately put one hand to the wall, and knock back.

[soullessseraphim]

For our souls

[hikaruchen]

I’ll keep the king when you are gone away. I’ll keep him safe from the dark things that wait. — King by The Amazing Devil

INPRNT | COMMISSION INFOS

-

Some details for archaeology nerds (Here we go again AHAHAHA)

First of all the costume Alfred wears in this pic is BY NO MEANS historical accurate, but if we really want to be 100% accurate then to my knowledge there’s a high chance that Alfred wouldn’t be wearing dresses gowns at all (whoever decided to make Alfred wear those pretty cough dresses cough in the show I wish your family to prosper for all eternity YOU’RE A HERO), so instead I just chose to design whatever clothes I want and add some Anglo-Saxon elements in it :)

1. Alfred’s earrings

Took inspiration from the 7th century Anglo-Saxon/Frankish crystal ball, now in Ashmolean Museum, Oxford. Here’s the thing, I know English men (and the monarchs) don’t wear earrings until the 16th century and earrings weren’t even popular during the Anglo-Saxon period, but once I saw Charles I wearing pearl earrings in his portrait I just can’t help but put something pretty on Alfred’s ears as well lol…Sadly I can’t find the exact size of this one but the official site says that it was used as a pendant/an amulet! Probably for pagan practices though, but it’s pretty, isn’t it? :D

2. Patterns on Alfred’s gown

Taken from the patterns on the Bewcastle Cross in Cumbria (which used to belong to Northumbria, built in around the 7th to early 8th century, aka the period Bede lived in.

3. The woven band

The pattern is taken from the Laceby band found in Laceby, Lincolnshire, dated to early 7th century. It seems both Scandinavians and Anglo-Saxons enjoy wearing tablet-woven bands? Saw this kind of things a lot in viking clothes reconstruction as well.

4. …Whatever this is

From fol. 34r in Book of Kells, the famous Celtic gospel book completed in Ireland circa 800 AD. As you can see I got lazy during drawing this lol but the illustrations in the original manuscripts are really impressive!

Now I don’t know if this is a good news or not but I’ve still got like…six wips for alhtred in hand…Good god of arts DELIVER ME

[b1mbodoll]

um. can i say somethinf

[disposal-blueeee]

[bendycxmet]

content: 825 words. fluff, lil suggestive (mostly in another language), spanish speaking wolfwood, cowboy/vaquero wolfwood

Cowboy!Wolfwood who needs a farmhand for his ranch. He sees the desperation in your eyes as you peruse the shops in town, and offers you the position.

Cowboy!Wolfwood who is smooth in every way possible, all lingering gazes, hot, fleeting touches as he instructs and shows you how to fix the gate fencing in his cattle. The first time he brought you to his ranch miles away from town, he hopped off his horse and immediately helped you down as well, but instead of letting go of your hands, he gripped them tighter, turning them over this way and that, inspecting something you perhaps hadn’t seen. Your heart rate increases, a blush spreading along your body as he rubs his callused hands and fingers against the soft flesh of your own. “Que delicadas…” he muses, and drops your hands, sadly, the warmth of him whisked away with the biting wind.

Cowboy!Wolfwood dresses always in his signature suede sombrero, with a black and silver embroidered poncho constantly hiding the matching black underneath, the only difference being the brown leather chaps just running short from the bottom of his dirtied and muddy boots that stomp down the hallway early in the morning, rousing you from your sleep in your assigned bedroom. It’s an outfit that wouldn’t be flattering if it were on anyone else but Wolfwood. 

Cowboy!Wolfwood and you slowly become used to each other’s company, working in fluidity to keep the ranch running like a well-oiled machine. You discover he has a joking side to him once the ice thaws between the two of you, cracking constant jokes at you with a toothpick lodged between his teeth–a habit he now has as he attempts to kick cigarettes since you mentioned you hate the smell. 

As easygoing as he is, he takes his ranch responsibilities seriously. You watch as he rides his stallion, hands off from the reins as he twirls and lassos a stray calf, muscled thighs hugging his steed, hips following the rhythm of her trotting. Your eyes never leave his form, your body hot from watching his. A loud whistle cuts through your ogling.

“Mind opening the gate?” he shouts, chuckling at your stuttering. You quickly open it for him, watching as he guides the calf inside to join her herd. He stops in front of you, poking fun at your flustered state.

“I just think you ride Angelina so gracefully! I wish I could ride a horse as good as you.” 

He laughs lowly and moves to leave through the gates, but not before you hear him mumble “tengo algo más que puedes montar…”

Cowboy!Wolfwood isn’t just a cowboy living on the outskirts of a town that welcomes him, but he also holds the duty of a priest, going into town for Sunday morning mass, shaking hands with everyone, exchanging easygoing smiles and inquiries into each and every person’s daily life. From your spot across the street, you would think he was a different man from the one who curses when he gets a splinter, but a glance down erases all doubt as you see the same dirty boots that traverse the ranch home’s hallways peeking out from his priestly garments.

“Not very Catholic of you to wear your boots with those robes you know. Why not wear the dress shoes you have shoved in the back of the hallway closet?”

He leans down from behind to whisper in your ear, rosary gracing your shoulder. 

“It’s simply not how I work, mi cielo,” his answer comes quickly, quick enough that he’s conversing with a blonde churchgoer by the time you whip your head around. 

Cowboy!Wolfwood’s lingering gazes no longer linger, the grazing touches turning into caresses even in the midst of your duties. Your bantering and joking only intensify as does your chemistry, but Wolfwood begins to throw in more flattering remarks about your work, and you. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro. His nicknames for you begin to flow and ebb seamlessly into your conversations, so smoothly said that you nearly miss them each time. But he never turns his loving words into actions. You begin to get impatient.

Cowboy!Wolfwood’s eyes widen, his toothpick falling from his lips.

 “Come again?” he asks you. 

“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí. Wolfwood, please.” 

He crosses the distance between you in half the time it would usually take him. 

“How long have you known what I have been saying?” he begs you, the embarrassment evident on his tanned cheeks, the callused hands you have been dreaming of holding you like that first day coming up to caress your jaw. 

“Desde el día que te conocí,” you say. Since I met you… I have loved you since the day I met you. 

He brings his face down to you, soft and sun-chapped lips meeting yours, his sombrero tipping to fall to the dirt behind him. 

a/n: pspsps @ayyydra and @aboveweirdest for all our screaming about cowboy wolfwood, i deliver some HCs xoxo

i tried to keep it gender neutral as possible but damn spanish is a very gender heavy language (that being said, there is many nicknames i wanted wolfwood to call you e.g. precioso/a (precious), hermoso/a (beautiful), querido/a (beloved) but the ones i wrote out are for everyone.

some translations:

“Que delicadas…” = "How delicate..."

"Tengo algo más que puedes montar…"= "I have something else you can ride..."

"Mi cielo. Mi alma. Corazón. Tesoro." = My heaven/sky/darling (idk it can mean many things). My soul. My heart. My treasure.

“Si no me besas en el próximo momento, ya me voy de aquí." = "If you don't kiss me in the next moment, I'm leaving this place."

"Desde el día que te conocí." = "Since the day I met you."

masterlist

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[azurityarts]

Arcane is a good show