#so maybe some of the reposters will SEE THIS

[dollishmehrayan]

# HOW BATBOYS REACT TO YOU WEARING THEY'RE COLOR ── .✦ ( eg. nails, clothes, anything ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

a/n: so I first did a small idea of this (here) and then I thought why not do it based off this anon (here) so yeahh, anyways I kinda fell so off course like genuinely I need to make more batboys content, tags: (batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick notices instantly. He’s hyper-aware of the blue.

“Wait, are those nails painted Nightwing blue? Babe, did you do that for me?” Cue the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

Compliments you non-stop. He’s not subtle about how much he loves it.

“You’re really pulling off my color, you know. Almost makes me think you’re trying to steal my spotlight.”

Gets extra touchy holding your hand, brushing your hair back, etc. “You’re so cute I can’t even deal right now.”, “It’s just blue and black colored nails dick.”

If it’s a clothing piece, he’ll joke, “Matching outfits for day? Say the word, and we’ll be Gotham’s most fashionable duo.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason notices but plays it cool at first. “Nice color choice,” he says casually, though he’s dying and resurrecting inside.

If it’s your nails “You’re carrying my whole brand on those hands. Should I start paying you royalties?”

If it’s clothing, “Careful, babe, wearing red this well might make you a target and you might be mistaken for me.” But his smirk shows he’s all for it.

Low-key proud you’re repping his colors but doesn’t know how to express it well. Might just stare a little longer than usual.

Ends up pulling you closer while murmuring, “You look good in my color. Too good.”

Secretly starts thinking of ways to return the gesture, like wearing something in your favorite color. (He’s hoping it’s not absurd neon colors😭)

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Blushes immediately. He’s not even subtle about it. “Wait… is that red because of… me?”

Obsesses over the details. “Did you match your nails to the exact shade of my suit? That’s, like, the coolest thing ever.”

Super flustered but also unbelievably touched. “I didn’t know you liked my colors that much.”

If it’s a clothing item, he’d be stunned for a moment before saying, “You look so… wow. You’re killing it.”

Gets a little shy but can’t stop glancing at you all day. Ends up fiddling with your hand if it’s your nails.

Might text you later "Thanks for making my day with that. You didn’t have to, but I really, really loved it.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Notices instantly but acts unimpressed. “Hmph. So you’re inspired by me today?”

Low-key thrilled but refuses to let you know. If it’s your nails, he might sarcastically say, “Subtle.” But he’s secretly staring.

If it’s clothing, “Green suits you. Perhaps you should wear it more often.” It’s his way of saying you look amazing.

After some time, he’ll let his walls down. “It’s not awful… You look better in my colors than I do.”

Will absolutely brag to Alfred or the others about it later. “Clearly, they understand quality when they see it.”

Ends up gifting you something else in his colors—maybe a scarf or bracelet—just to see you wear it again.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce notices immediately but doesn’t say much at first. He’ll just give you that classic Bruce Wayne smirk.

If it’s clothing, he’ll subtly comment, “You look good in black. Suits you.” (High praise from him)

If it’s nails, he’ll gently take your hand and examine them. “Interesting choice. Are you sending a message, or…?”

Deep down, he’s really touched but doesn’t know how to express it. Might make a dry joke like, “So you’re my sidekick now?”

Later, when you’re alone, he’d admit, “It’s nice seeing you in something that reminds me of… us.”

Low-key loves the idea of you wearing his colors often. He’d never say it outright, but his actions like buying you more black and yellow pieces make it clear (to a point half your dresses were either black or yellow even you’re gold jewelry has yellow hints and accents😭😭)

[nocturnalfandomartist]

.⋆｡ﾟ Art vs Artist 2024! ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Click for better quality!

It's my first time doing art vs artist, but I thought it'd be a nice opportunity to see how it looks! My style has been so inconsistent this year (thanks multiple style crises), but I am proud of a few pieces. Mostly. I seem to use similar techniques and colors a lot, but I guess that's the point of an art style anyway. Everything up here is cropped a bit since I don't draw at a 1:1 ratio usually. If this is your first time seeing my work, I love The Legend of Zelda and Zelink!

Thanks for another fun year of art! ^^ Some stats below:

#1 | 1,943 notes | June 18, 2024

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༺ Top 10 posts by notes!

I remember drawing this on the announcement day, within a few hours! It's my first post to surpass 1k!

My second post to surpass 1k!

#2 | 1,197 notes | June 22, 2024

#3 | 694 notes | July 27, 2024

...trends work

i need to repost this with type instead of handwriting

#4 | 572 notes | August 3, 2024

I want to redraw this one, even if it's not very canon

#5 | 546 notes | July 28, 2024

#6 | 528 notes | August 5, 2024

I will continue to change how I draw her

#7 | 456 notes | Setember 19, 2024

I tried a slightly different look here, I think it's kinda cute!

A tie!

#8 | 456 notes | June 19, 2024

Two pieces are in this post! I love Classic Zelink, so I was trying to figure out how I wanted to draw them. :) I have a lot of drawings of them to come...

#9 | 355 notes | June 9, 2024

I've really been trying to figure out how I want to do backgrounds on my doodle pages. And how to draw TP Zelda properly. Still haven't figured either out, if you're wondering.

#10 | 353 notes | May 18, 2024

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

So much from EoW... I jumped on that hype so fast, it's the Zelda game I've only ever dreamed about!! ♡ Still kind of surprised nothing from Linktober is up here, though, considering it was all the better stuff. ^^" There are a few pieces I never finished this year, also... maybe 2025 will be their year!

▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ • ▪︎ •

Small announcement - I got a private commission I'm working on at the moment, but soon they will be entirely open again! I do character art and designs if you're interested! ^^

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

✦ Ko-Fi | ✧ Ao3 | ⟡ Bluesky

REBLOGGING IS ENCOURAGED, BUT DO NOT REPOST.

[cupidbedsy]

ꕤ food is the way to a man's stomach ; and they were roommates

➪ summary: jamie comes home to see his girlfriend baking a plethora of cookies and can't help but wonder why as he helps her decorate them

➪ warnings: none... i think

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ file type: 12 days of au's: christmas edition (and they were roommates) blurb

➪ cupid's notes: so sorry for the lack of updates, this happens a lot tbh. anyway, welcome back to 12 days and i will try my hardest to make sure all of them are out by or on christmas !

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

Jamie walked through the apartment door and was immediately hit by the smell of cookies. His eyes landed on his girlfriend, who was standing in the middle of their kitchen, her apron loosely tied around her waist, hair pulled up in a ponytail, and flour covering her head to toe. 

He chuckled at the sight, wrapping an arm around her waist as he came to stand next to her, “Hey.”

She flashed him a grin, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “Hi baby. Just in time, try these.”

Bella handed her boyfriend one of the many cookies that were on the cooling rack before moving to place another tray in the oven. He hummed as he took a bite, nodding, “S’good. How many have you made so far?”

“Only a few…”

Jamie gave her a knowing look and she blushed sheepishly, “Okay maybe a lot more than a few but-”

���C’mon, lemme shower and then I’ll help you decorate them.”

“Really?” An excited gleam shone in her eyes, staring up at him. 

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be back.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When Jamie exited their bedroom, Bella was still in just an organized mess as she was in before. Except now, multiple cookie tins were sitting on the kitchen counter, another batch of cookie dough was in the mixer, and about two dozen cookies sat in front of her with different sprinkles and icing to the side. 

He raised his eyebrows in amusement, standing on the other side of the counter across from her, “Alright boss. What do you want me to do?”

He held his hands up in surrender when she glared at him, his all too familiar cheeky grin on his face. She handed him a cookie shaped like a gingerbread man, “This is your practice cookie. Mess this up and you’re out.”

“I didn’t know we were taking this so seriously.”

“We’re not, I just don’t want you to make a mess. So if you even so much as fuck anything here up while doing that cookie, I’m putting you in timeout.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Jamie!”

He laughed, already going to work on the cookie he’d been given. Bella on the other hand just watched him carefully in between checking on the cookies that were in the oven and starting to cut the next batch of dough into circles. 

It was when she was pulling the tray out of the oven that Jamie finished, beaming with pride as he showed her, “Look!”

She placed the tray on the stove, took the oven mitts off, and threw them on the counter before looking over. She nodded, a small smile on her face, “It looks good Jam.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, pick whichever one you want to do,” she gestured to the counter, “These are the last ones. The other ones I just have to sprinkle white sugar on them and then they’ll be done.”

Jamie got back to work, making sure each cookie looked nice and that he wouldn’t make a mess. He’d look up occasionally, smiling fondly as his girlfriend placed the other cookies in their own tins. 

“What’re these even for?”

“The team. Mom and I always made cookies every year and then in college, I gave some to Trev and he shared them with the team and then people started begging for them, and now… it’s sort of just tradition, I guess.” She explained, redoing her ponytail. 

“So basically, it’s Trevor’s fault?”

She giggled, taking a seat next to him on one of the stools, leaning her head on his shoulder, “Yeah. But it worked out, ended up winning the guys over and now we’re close. Food is the way to a man’s stomach, I suppose.”

She grabbed a cookie, handing it to him, “Here. Made this one for you.”He looked down, seeing the words ‘Trevor’s Boyfriend’ written across it. He huffed, whining slightly, “Hey.”

꒰ AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES TAGLIST ꒱

@winterbarnesblog @kei943 @digitalhughes-jpg @bunbunbl0gs @fantillisgirl

ATWR MASTERLIST ; AU'S ; 12 DAYS OF AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[oddarette]

Hi, happy to see asks open! I loved your rainbow cotton candy series, the soft rainbow on white is one of my favorite aesthetics. Have you ever considered doing more inspired by it? (also LOVED the lovecore sushi series too!! Your art is fantastic in general)

I actually made a mushroom series with the same palette but I think I deleted it because it got like 5 likes lol. This was when I first started this account so maybe I should repost it some day.

[skellebonez]

Ok people. Real talk for a second. Cause I am genuinely pissed off.

Stop. Reposting. Other’s. Art.

Save it all you want, but stop saving it or screenshoting it and then resposting it (especially without crediting the original artist).

You may think to yourself “oh, I’m just one person so what harm could it do?” and let me ask you this.

How many other people do you think have thought the same thing? That they are just one person resposting another person’s hard work thinking that it won’t have any kind of effect on anyone? Thinking “oh, this is only for me and maybe my friends”. Or “this will give the artist EXPOSURE so it’s fine” (which makes no sense when you don’t CREDIT them and no one can figure out who the artist IS).

Because let me tell you, I have seen what having three or eight or DOZENS of people reposting or liking and sharing reposts of an artist’s work does to some artists. Yeah, some are going to say “meh, I don’t really care” and brush it off. But that’s not every artist.

I have seen artists completely stop posting art online because seeing people take their art and share it without bothering or caring to share who made it makes them feel like ya’ll don’t actually give a shit about them. You only care about what they can make and how you can take it for yourself. I have seen other artists give up on art entirely because they genuinely feel like it’s pointless to keep drawing and sharing at all because it will all just get taken anyway and no one cares who the original creator is.

So why bother making more?

Do ya’ll WANT artists to stop sharing their work for you to see and appreciate?

Because taking it and reposting it is going to make some artists stop sharing their work entirely. Reposting art only does two things: momentary gratifaction for yourself and hurting artists.

And if you are so selfish that knowing your actions hurt other people, emotionally or financially or otherwise, doesn’t get through to you to make you understand that what you're doing fucking sucks then…

Congratulations.

Hope ya like looking at nothing in the future.

And just use the fucking reblog button IT IS RIGHT THERE. THAT'S WHAT IT IS FOR. TO SHARE ART. WITHOUT REPOSTING IT. WHERE PEOPLE CAN SEE CREDIT.

DAMN IT.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

… I can’t imagine that we actually watched the same show. Like I REALLY AISNSOSNWKMEJDND

hold on I’m gonna need to calm down.

Let me just make a list of why I disagree and at least organize my anger. Long post incoming.

Vander was friends and had a deal with Grayson. The sheriff. Idk what else to even add to that

Caitlyn is more than a cop and Arcane isn’t copaganda. Genuinely don’t know what kind of progress some of these people are looking for. Real allies are a necessity for real progress.

SILCO IS A CLASS TRAITOR. HE FUNNELLED DRUGS INTO THE UNDERCITY AND PUT POOR KIDS IN FACTORIES FOR THAT DRUG FOR PROFIT!!! HE PAID THE ENFORCERS TO LET HIM DO IT WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE

Vi is not as much as an activist as you would like to believe

WHY IS EKKO NEVER EVER BROUGHT UP IN THESE CONVERSATIONS????

Silco was not good for the Undercity

Silco was not a great guy. Ekko had to build an entire separate hidden community for the people he hurt and stepped on for his own benefit

Caitlyn is ignorant and naive. That’s ok. That’s what character development is for.

Loving imperfect characters like Silco and Jinx then hating characters like Vi and Caitlyn is peak media illiteracy to me

FOR THE LAST TIME: VI DIDNT ABANDON POWDER!!!!! Silco literally wanted Vi DEAD for trying to stop him from killing Vander??? How could you possibly say silco was there for jinx when Vi refused to be???? SHE WAS IN PRISON BECAUSE OF HIM???

Silco’s manipulation is working wonders on y’all

Embracing all the outrage without at all looking out for the people harmed by bigotry is not activism

SILCO IS A CLASS TRAITOR x929282929394

Caitlyn was the first person in years to show Vi kindness and care. She listened and stuck by her and took care of her after Vi was locked up for years and beat up by cops (i wonder what led her to be thrown in there?). Cait being a cop stopped being a point of contention once Vi recognized her naivety and genuineness.

NUANCE NUANCE NUANCE. ITS NEVER EVER BLACK AND WHITE

The only way I can see Vi touching ‘class traitor’ in season one was the shimmer raid. Guess who the hell put those kids in there in the first place.

Just hanging out with Caitlyn isn’t being a class traitor if Vander’s allowed to be friends with Grayson.

Critical thinking is very necessary for watching shows like Arcane

What the hell did Silco really do for the Undercity???? What changed over the 7(ish) years he was basically in power of the place? All I’ve heard was he made the air cleaner, which would be great except for, you know, shimmer and the child factory workers

Jinx is unwell and feeding into it like this in a fully serious manor would not help Arcane as a show at all

What do you want Arcane’s message as a full show to be? ‘Screw cops’? That’s a little boring and unproductive isn’t it?

CAN WE TALK ABOUT EKKO AND HIS IMPACT PLEASE???? x9382728283

Caitlyn is trying to make Piltover and Zaun a better place. Is that not allowed? Am I missing something?

Caitlyn and Vi’s arcs have only just started. Season one is basically fully set up except for characters like silco and Jinx. This is far from the end.

Genuinely think Vander would appreciate Vi for being friends (using this term loosely because they are in love) with Caitlyn considering he was the one who was opposed to war and Vi wasn’t.

Silco should NOT be your idea of Undercity independence and respect. He oppressed the Undercity the same way the Council and the Enforcers did. He helped no one but himself, his team (barely) and Jinx.

You’re allowed to like and dislike any character you want but pretending like Silco is better for the Undercity than others is just so ridiculous to me. Everyone is of course completely allowed to like Silco, but we can’t pretend like he’s this stand up guy. If you have to pretend like he was, maybe you don’t like him as much as you think.

“Because Cait’s pretty” is also incredibly incorrect. Go check point #14.

Vi never stopped loving and caring for Powder. Powder’s mental health issues were amplified and utilized by Silco because he couldn’t even heal himself.

If all of your opinions of Caitlyn and Vi start and end with “cops suck” and “class traitor” then you genuinely don’t respect Arcane as a show enough to show you nuance.

The misinterpretation of characters is just so … it’s like you go out of your way to love and/or hate characters no matter how much they show you who you are.

Your closed mindedness is clouding your judgement and making you out to seem like you don’t actually want the Undercity’s triumph, you want Silco and Jinx’s, even if it means ruining the Undercity. And that would be fine because father/daughter evil duo but trying to say you’re all for this duo because you want what’s better for the Undercity when they continue to hurt it is simply not correct and very harmful (to fictional characters in a fictional universe 😭)

Only being able to understand how Silco and Jinx were oppressed and therefore should be able to not just destroy Piltover but also Zaun is not the eat you think it is

Why is Viktor never called a class traitor? I think he's great (I also think Silco and Jinx are wonderfully written) but we hardly saw him in the Undercity/ interact with people from the Undercity plus he killed someone (Sky) from there (accidentally)

EDIT TO ADD ANOTHER POINT: Caitlyn has shown little to NO malicious intent and has no real negative impacts other than Jinx’s attachment issues and insecurities being amplified by her mere existence. Again, this is her story and development. Throughout the season she is exposed to reality and recognizes her and her peers/ families wrongs. I have no idea what you want from this character. Should Piltover just be gotten rid of in the story? Then what? Should Caitlyn have just never gotten involved and continued to embrace her privilege? Should she have left Vi in prison and stay ignorant?

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[diathadevil]

Aftermath.

[the-bees-are-beeing]

BVB vs FCB, Der Klassiker

27' Jamie Gittens 1-0

[witchqueen]

Does anyone have any tips to help stop yourself from comparing your artwork to others, or equating your value as an artist with likes and reblogs?

I've struggled with this for a while and it's getting old, I don't know how to just shrug it off. Any genuine advice would be nice

[ahalliance]

qantoine’s coping mechanism to feeling left behind being both self-isolating and becoming possesive of those he cares for is so juicy as a concept . like yeah you go you funky creachure, manifest those complicated and sometimes contradictory emotions

[bobcat-pie]

I'm constantly wondering when to set my queued posts.

I've got an art account that i sometimes log onto and queue stuff for, but it doesn't get anywhere near as much engagement as this account does! I was wondering if changing the queue time could help that.

Sorry I don't have a "see results" option! it only lets me have 12 buttons. I'll reblog the poll when it's finished, but if you can't wait to see the current results, please pick a random one to limit artificial data skewing!

also please reblog for a bigger sample size. please please please, this survey is already flawed, at least give me a big sample size so i can get an answer

[someones-there-1]

hi hello welcome to my new account. it will mainly just be fanart and yelling about the magnus archives. i’ll be posting art under #pey-art and any essays under #pey-rambles :)

(edit: now that i’m doing tma spiderman au stuff that’ll also be under #spiderjon hehe)

[avinkusprince]

ooc;; so that movie's coming out this week huh? listen i've been in armand iwtv brainrot chokehold for the last like.... 6 months so who knows if fiyero will be able to overthrow him with the energies of this Most Auspicious Time in wicked fandom, but i feel already in my bones the influx of wi.c.ked musical rp blogs that are about to crash down upon my follower list like a tsunami. and may god help fiyero, i fear he will be drowning in rp-ussy.

[ssreeder]

This is about the Pinterest art,

It wasn’t that one, but it was just from liab (presumably these: the first time sokka talks to zuko when he’s on suppressants, prince dishwasher, and zuko saying goodbye to sokka at the last zhao capture)

( https://pin.it/21GXoifJO )

(Idk if that works so I tried to describe it)

it unfortunately is most likely repost tho sorry 😕

Yes! I have seen that Pinterest post before with all the “wallpapers” (aka: stolen art)

that AMAZING ART is by the wonderful @15w11h2o

I love this art so much! If you wanna show the actual artist some love reblog it from them and gush in their tags <3

[waffulaa]

.