#sometimes i remember that i do drawings too

[alllgator-blood]

'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'

(part 3/3)

I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.

As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january

Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.

I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.

That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."

Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you

[eiralunaire]

Headcanos of Damian Wayne.

1. Small Gestures of Tenderness.

Although Damian would never admit it out loud, he always feels inexplicably more relaxed when he's around his girlfriend. He often watches her in silence, observing the small details, like the way she laughs, her expression when she's focused, or how she always has something to say, even when she doesn't feel like talking. There's something about those moments that makes him feel, for the first time in his life, that war and fighting aren't everything.

2. Defender of Her Well-Being.

Damian, who has been trained to be cold and calculating, can't help but become extremely protective when it comes to her. If someone looks at her wrong, even in jest, he'll step in without thinking, making it clear with his gaze (and sometimes his threat of "don't do it again") that no one can hurt her. He's convinced that it's his responsibility to take care of her, but it's more of an internal desire to make sure nothing bad ever happens to her.

3. The Typical Sarcastic and Jealous Behavior.

When it comes to other men, Damian is relentless. Although he would never express it in an obvious way, he feels extremely uncomfortable if any kind of unwanted attention is directed towards his girlfriend. It is common for his sarcastic tone to appear when some guy talks too close to her. "Really? Do you think she wants to hear that?" he would say, with an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, as he takes a step forward.

4. Thoughtful (albeit weird) Gifts.

He is not the type of boyfriend to buy expensive jewelry or flowers (because he doesn't know how those things work), but what he does do is remember the little details about what his girlfriend likes. One day, unbeknownst to her, Damian shows up with a rare book she mentioned in a casual conversation, or with that chocolate she is known to like a lot. The truth is, he's become an expert at listening to her, not just because of his tactical intelligence, but because he genuinely wants to please her, even if his way of showing it is... unconventional.

5. Intimate Moments of Vulnerability.

When Damian is with his girlfriend, his guard is down in ways that only happen with her. It can be something as simple as watching a movie together, or lying next to her after a long day of training, but in those moments, he doesn't have to live up to his last name or his lineage. It's just him, Damian Wayne, simply enjoying her company. It's a luxury he doesn't usually get with anyone else, but with her, it's something that constantly draws him in and comforts him.

6. Interactions with His Family.

Despite his reserved attitude, Damian has found himself talking more to his family about his girlfriend, albeit in a slightly brusque manner. With Bruce, for example, his attitude towards her is a kind of possessiveness that makes it clear that he wants her in his life, but he also knows that his father will never really understand what he feels. With Alfred, however, he seems more relaxed, because he knows that the butler sees what he sometimes can't recognize: how happy their relationship makes him.

7. Subtle but Efficient Jealousy.

Damian can't help but show jealousy, although he does it in a subtle and almost childish way. For example, if his girlfriend talks a lot with another guy (even if he's a close friend), he may make comments like: "Since when are you so interested in what he has to say?" or suddenly offer to take her back to her apartment, as if there was some "urgent" business to attend to, to prevent her from staying too long with that person. It's his way of saying "I want you all to myself" without having to say it directly.

8. He Likes Deep Conversations.

Damian isn’t a man of many words, but when he’s with his girlfriend, he finds it easy to open up and share things he never thought he’d say. He likes to talk to her about topics that have nothing to do with war or fighting, like his views on the future or what he thinks about life. Sometimes, he catches himself talking more than he planned, but he doesn’t mind, because he knows he can be vulnerable with her, something he’s learned to deeply appreciate.

9. The Vulnerability of Being “The Man”.

When he’s with her, Damian feels weird about not being able to show off everything he knows how to do. I mean, with his combat skills and tactical intelligence, he could defend her from anything, but what really attracts him to her is how she calms him down and makes him feel more human. In her mind, that makes him more than just Bruce Wayne’s son or trained assassin. He makes her feel a little more normal, like any other guy in love, and that thought baffles him, but he loves it at the same time.

10. Sudden Moments of Insecurity.

Despite all his training and his confident facade, Damian sometimes feels insecure in their relationship. There are times when he doubts himself: Is he really up to par with her? Will he be enough for someone like her, who has so much to offer? Although he would never admit it, he has those moments of uncertainty that make him more human. However, as time goes on, he realizes that all he really needs to do is be himself, and sometimes, even a more vulnerable and caring Damian can be what attracts her the most.

11. The Unspoken "I Protect You".

Although he never says it outright, Damian is obsessed with the idea of ​​protecting her. If she is ever sad, he turns into a wall of ice, willing to face anything to make her feel safe. This leads to more possessive behavior, but he doesn't see it that way. It's his way of showing her that even though he's not the traditional boyfriend type, he'll always be there for her, even if that means walking away from conflict and just offering his company.

[alex-the-alterhuman]

I love doing ask games lol

Doing this for my Offenderman fictotype, that I'm still questioning (NOT the canon one‼️)

1. Fanarts that are not hate towards me make me very happy.

2. My bros😼

Trendy and Splendor - coolest people ever!! Love them! (As brothers ofc)

Slendy - we... Didn't talk much, he's kind of "cold", but he's ok.

3. The fandom gets me completly WRONG. Like, I have a personality that is not about "woohooing" people.

4. I go by the same name, although I prefer the short version: Off.

5. I HAVE MERCH??!/j

I have downloaded a game about myself (yes, there is one), and I have two lego roses and that's all I have😭

6. It doesn't match the canon at all.

I have very strong "memories", mostly of my brothers - hanging out with them, ect. Also about my job (in my source, I owned a club and played violin). And smoking lol (in this reality, I don't smoke)

7. I don't remember disliking anyone in my source. Slender sometimes annoys me - he acts always too serious.

8. I hate the canon version of me. Everything about it. It's the reason of why people see me as a monster.

9. I have 2 forms: my "original" and a human one. Here are the closest image of my human form: (the drawing is NOT mine, it belongs to its author)

10. Mostly strong "memories", shifts and the weird feeling of being this character.

11. Yeah, most of my memories aren't canon. I remember taking care of my garden.

12. Idk what visiting memories mean, but I suppose it's mentally coming back to them?? So if yes, then all of them.

:P

fictionkin & fictive ask game!!

/pt: fictionkin & fictive ask game!! end of pt/

i really want to explore my identities a bit more so i decided to make my own ask game! feel free to reblog, please send an ask to whoever you reblogged it from if you can, and enjoy!

this doesn’t follow an emoji/number system because i find those hard to keep track of. questions below!

What do you think of fan works? (Such as fanfiction, fanart, etc.)

What do you think of your in-source family/friends? (A brother, a best friend, etc. that is close to who you were/are!)

What does fandom get right and/or wrong? (Such as gender or pronoun headcanons, or portrayals in fanfiction and fanart!)

Do you like the name you got in source, or do you go by a different one?

Do you own any merch from your source? If not, would you like to?

What do you remember from your past in-source, and does it align with canon media?

Do you dislike your source? Does anything in it bother you? (Such as the portrayal of a friend!)

What does canon media get right and/or wrong about you? (Or, how different are you from canon?)

What did you look like?

How did you find out you were/are this/these character/s?

Is there anything canon never showed that you remember happening?

Do you have any memories you visit a lot?

[the-universal-sun]

Hello I love you're aggression content and I was wondering if you have any posts or had cannons about Dipper and Maple being age requesters with either Stan being the caregiver or the bean each other's caregivers

Hmmm, well while I don't have any posts about the twins regressing, now is as good a time as any to start! I hope this is what you were looking for, and thank you so much for your request! 'm always open for helpful comments, too!

-_-_-_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_-_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_-_ -_

-I feel like Dipper would start unconsciously regressing first. He's stressed almost all the time, and we know he's worried about his parents fighting, so his worries and anxieties would manifest in more childish ways, I mean we see how he sucks/chews on his shirt when he gets stressed or too deep in thought. So that would just keep happening and Stan, worried and wanting Dipper to stop but having to keep his gruff persona, steals and stick a pacifier in his mouth whenever he notices Dipper's doing it. He's hoping to dissuade Dipper from chewing, and it almost works at first, but then he starts to find the chewing and sucking on the pacifier comforting, so he just keeps it in. He'll keep it and use it when he's not around Stan, too, just to calm him down.

-Stan would see that and be so confused, but at least he's not staining his shirt with spit. So he just shrugs and rolls with it, noticing how much calmer his nephew gets with the pacifier. Sometimes, even, Dipper will just want to sit with Stan and watch his shows-westerns which eventually turn into cartoon reruns from the 60s and 70s "the classics, kid!", which enthuses Dipper much more than Black and White shows.

-Eventually, Stan just starts expecting Dipper to act younger than he is when the pacifier is out, and he's not complaining, no sass from his nephew? No complaining when Stan wants to eat oatmeal to give his aching gums some relief from the dentures? Dipper even joins in on eating oatmeal with his Grunkle Stan, but only if there's lots of brown sugar and cinnamon in his

-Of course there is, Stan makes sure of that

-Then Mabel starts to notice how much time Dipper spends with their Grunkle Stan and sneaks around to watch what happens-just the tiniest bit jealous because her brother isn't spending as much time with her. Dipper only spends time with Stan when she's with Grenda and Candy, but that's besides the point

-She's...confused when she sees her brother laughing at old people cartoons with a pacifier in his mouth, but honestly, she's up for weird! Stan obviously notices her spying and gestures for her to wait in the kitchen, telling Dipper to stay put while he gets some juice for them

-Stan very seriously tells her that under no circumstances is she ever allowed to tease her brother about this. She's offended at first, but remembering the time when her and Stan made fun of Dipper's manliness (or lack thereof), she agrees. Sometimes she just can't tell how far is too far

-She's still jealous of how much time they're spending together, so she asks to join one day, double pinky promising that she won't make fun of Dipper or Grunkle Stan (he's quite soft with Dipper when he's like this, but he's got an image to uphold dagnabbit!) and you know what? She can get behind it. Watching cartoons and drawing all day without being told to grow up? It's great

-It's not until after they had that run in with dinosaurs that she actually feels what Dipper feels when he does this-she finally understands that floaty feeling that her brother's always talked about, how her worries drift away and she can just be

-Stan thought he'd have a handful with two kids acting like this, but they are surprisingly well-behaved, content to just color and watch his favorite childhood shows. He's also caught off guard by how much he enjoys it, he thought he'd get annoyed watching two kids acting like younger kids, but it brings a sort of lightness to his heart that he hasn't had before. Is this what being a parent is like? Nah, that's still too much responsibility than what someone like him has or wants. But having his great niblings there, his family there, relying on him and wanting to be around him, loving him, well, he can indulge in the twins habits for a little while longer. Just because it makes them easier to deal with. That's all

-Man, Stan sure needs to dust in here, it's getting in his eyes

[faegoddessog]

Affirmations

Warnings: Explicitly Mature Content, 18+, angsty boy, microdosing, sex as therapy, Gentle Dom/subby boy, cunnilingus, felatio, untrotected PiV, (protect yourself out there loves!) established relationship.

Summary: You know all too well the erratic nature of his ego. How he has to hold the soft fragile parts of himself with the equal but opposite hardened bits. Both contribute to his being an incredible actor, but sometimes he just can't balance it all anymore. When it all comes crashing down, you are there. This time, though, you are ready with something a little different.

A/N: So after he finished his recent filming, I remembered how he's talked before about how it can feel like loss for him and triggers abandonment issues sometimes. Then this fic came barreling out. I mean, it's ONE way to get your affirmations in... rewrite that menal script... 😈😉

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“Hey sugar,” you said as he walked in the door. He was earlier than you  had expected. You stand to meet him, knowing he's gonna need a hug at the very least. His face is crumbling mask. “Are you ok? I know how hard a film wrapping is for you.” 

His shoulders slump slightly, grateful to not have to put on a brave face anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I just���I don’t want to let go. It’s just bittersweet.” 

You know he’s talking about his character as much as the fleeting community inherent to filming. You’ve been watching him dig deep for the past few months. You gave him space to do so and had been supporting him in countless little ways. But you too, have been preparing for this day. 

“Well I'm here for you, for whatever you need, even if you just want to sit quietly," you offer.  You know that sometimes he just needs another person near, someone to anchor him a little. Other times, well, he needs more.

He nods to the floor, then looks up with unshed tears in his eyes. He pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I need a cuddle or something,” he sniffs. 

“Cry if you need to, I love you no matter what,” a gentle reminder. You gather him in and pull the both of you down on the couch.

All his defenses are swept away in those few words, in the simple act of love. He breaks down, sobbing into your shoulder as he begins to process the full weight of his stress, physical exhaustion and the emotional toll of the past few months.

You stroke his back in circles, whispering words and sounds of encouragement. You are fully present with him as he just lets it out. You are only a little surprised it happened so fast. Normally he needs a while to get to this point. Either it's really bad, or he's actually beginning to count on you. 

He sniffs, trying to compose himself, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are so patient and gentle with my messy emotions.” 

“Did you take your microdose today?” you ask, knowing the mushrooms help him deal with his depression. 

“Shit, no… not for like a week,” his eyes widen, “no wonder i feel like this,  fuck I’m an idiot!” 

“No you are not,” you say firmly, ” go take them now and I’ll draw you a bath."  He can be so hard on himself. 

“Can it be a bath for us?” his eyebrows raise in query.

“Of course,” you smile. Water is your element, and you love being in it with him. 

He comes into the bathroom a few minutes later, a spoon of dried, crushed ‘shrooms covered in honey in his mouth. It doesn’t take much to keep him balanced, just a sub perceptive a few tenths of a gram. But it helps best when he takes it regularly. 

You are standing in the oversized tub in the soft candlelight. The room smells of relaxing essential oils like lavender, chamomile and ylang ylang. 

His heart swells in appreciation and love for you. 

“Wow,” he stops in the doorway, “you look like the birth of Venus, only more gorgeous.” 

He places the spoon on the counter absentmindedly. 

You smile, blushing. You always feel just a bit self conscious when compliments flow so freely from his angelic face. He is the definition of stunning. Not that it really mattered to you anymore what he looked like. His true beauty is in the way he treated people, treated you, his presence, his unwavering gaze, his genuine interest in people. It all made him even more stunning on the inside. If only he'd treat himself the same way.  This is when an idea strikes you. 

You sit and beckon with your arms. 

“Yes my Goddess,” his clothes puddle on the ground and in seconds he slips with a hiss into the hot water. 

You breathe deep as he leans back against you, hoping to trigger a sympathetic down-regulation in his own breathing.

You pour oil into your hands and begin to work on the knots in his neck and shoulders. You try to ponder your idea, but having him between your legs in any fashion, a casual leg tossed over yours on the couch,  his hand warming between your knees in the car, is so distracting. 

He melts at your touch, surrendering himself little by little. 

“MM that feels incredible,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“YOU are incredible, hunny. I’m so proud of you,” you are trying not to sound like some mock matron but also you know that he needs those words of affirmation.

He shakes his head and huffs out a derisive laugh, “Praising me for just sitting here? Letting you take care of me?” 

“No, praising you because you are willing to be truly vulnerable with me, because you give so much to your craft, even though you know it can make you feel this way. Praising you because I love you exactly as you are and how you show up in the world.” 

His breath shakes and he wipes at an errant tear, “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Well that is bullshit,” you huff matter of fact, “of course you deserve me.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he manages a small watery smile, “like loving someone who is emotionally unavailable and broken isn’t a huge burden.” 

“Oh, I must respectfully disagree Sir,” you know this is part of his process and dig down for your patience, “you are quite emotionally available, more so than most. Heck you just sobbed in my arms! And we all feel messy and broken at times.” 

“That’s true,” he sighs. 

“Loving you is never a burden,” you assure him, “all I need is for you to be yourself. Plus, you take care of me too.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs stubbornly. 

“Nonsense, you always go out of your way to make me smile when I’m having a hard day. You always make me feel important to you, even when you are deep into your work.”

“You ARE important to me,” he turns suddenly to face you in the tub. His eyes are serious, as though the mere thought of the implication is offensive. 

He pulls you onto his lap, water splashing. “You are my constant, knowing you are here…it... it...” 

He buries his head in your chest, arms wrapped around your torso, unable to finish his thought.   

“Can I ask you a question?” his voice is tentative, nearly a whisper against your skin.

“Always.” 

“Do you ever think that I’m too intense, too dramatic? Not like for work, but in real life?” 

Is this what’s been bothering him so much? You wonder. 

“No baby” your tone reassuring, ”I think you save that for the cameras.” 

“It’s just that sometimes,” he goes on, “ I worry that I’m too needy and sensitive. I don’t want you to get fed up with me, ok? You have to tell me if… if…. Cuz I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

He must have glimpsed some stupid thing online or overheard someone making a stupid comment. He was always listening around people. It’s one of the things that drew people to him, the way he listened. 

“I’m not, you’re definitely not,  and I’m not going anywhere,” you tilt his chin to look in your eyes, “you are allowed to ask for help when you need it and to accept it when offered. We were put on this planet together for a reason. None of us are supposed to do this alone.” 

He heaves a big sigh. After a few breaths, he looks up at you.

“Y’know, when you say things like that, I feel like I can conquer this feeling of not enough. Like maybe I’m not as weak or as broken as I tell myself I am sometimes.” 

“Baby, you are neither weak nor broken. You are human. If I could ask anything of you, it’d be that you are just as kind to yourself as you are to others."  

“Gods,” he pleads to the ceiling, “me too,  but it’s hard to break, hard to not believe it when it’s ME telling myself that I'm not good enough, too sensitive, too needy.” 

“Bah,” you guffaw, “fucking tapes babe, tapes in your head, words from someone else that wormed their way into you. Well I’m implanting new tapes.” You mimic pushing an old cassette into his forehead.  “These tapes that talk of your kindness, your empathy. Tapes that say how your sensitivity is your superpower and helps you to be the amazing actor that you are. Tapes that proclaim you are enough, just as you are.” You give him a knowing look as he blushes.  “You know it’s all true.” You move your legs and straddle his lap water sloshing over the side of the tub. “Do you know why I’m so willing to take care of you like this?” 

He shakes his head, heart racing from both your declarations and your intimate positioning in his lap.  

“Because I know that if I was having a hard day, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it for me. That’s partnership, that’s love.” 

You suspect that the neuroplasticity of the microdose may be starting to take effect. His eyes well up with tears again, this time with a smile.

“You know me so well.  Sometimes you are the only thing that makes sense,” he gathers you in his arms, “I love you, so much.” 

His pulling of your body rocks your hips into his, pushing the fact that he is indeed nestled between your thighs again to the forefront of your thoughts. 

“I love you too, so much,” you run your fingers through his hair, planting kisses on his neck. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

He shivers at your touch, at your kisses, his breath catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry hunny, do you need me to stop? I don’t want to push you if you don’t want….” 

“No, please don’t stop,” he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling them deeper to him. “Your touch, it isn't just sexual, it’s comforting, it’s home. I love it so much. “

“Oh yeah,” your voice low and sultry, “how much.”

“Let’s uh…let’s get out of this tub,” he says all of a sudden. 

You reluctantly climb off him. As you both dry off, you wonder if he caught your offer. At the same time you don’t want to pressure him if he’s worn out.

He climbs into bed, pulls back the covers to his waist, and opens his arms, “Come here, I need to hold you.” Sometimes needs to be skin to skin like this without the sex. 

Seeing him naked in bed and not slipping those sheets down further, not mounting him like some kind of thoroughbred? It’s a hard pill to swallow right now. He’s been so focused on work and has hardly been home for more than just to sleep for a month. You found yourself missing the way his body feels on yours, in yours. It’s gonna be hard not to try and cajole him into sex, but this is what partners do for each other. 

You snuggle against him, trying to disregard the wetness making your inmost thighs slick. 

His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing over your stomach.

“How much? How’s about I show you just how much,” his voice slides like butter, hot and silky over your ear, “Tell me, how wet are you?”  Apparently, he was picking up what you were putting down. His fingers splay out across your belly, holding you tight as he presses his suddenly hard cock against your backside. Who is tempting who now? 

The smile that tilts your lips is inevitable.

“You know I can’t help it, everything about you turns me on.” You try to sound apologetic, but just can’t. “It’s ok if you don’t want to do anything about it,” you try desperately to keep your voice nonchalant, convincing precisely no one. 

“Turn around,” his voice low with a hint of gravel.

You shrug in mock deference as you turn over in his arms ,  “I can just take care of it myself.”  You are fully aware of how much he likes to see you touch yourself and if that’s all you get out of this evening you are fine with that. But you might also be pushing very specific buttons to get him back between your thighs. 

His cock twitches and throbs against you. 

“As tempting as that is, maybe I want to be the one that makes you feel good,” his chest rumbles. 

A sly smile crosses my face. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good here.” You swing your leg up over him to settle on his upper belly. Your wetness smears in the hollow under his ribs. “I could just do it here, where you can see.” 

“You…. “ he breathes out. 

You reach down and tantalizingly pull your lips apart. A string of thick, wet juices stretch between them. 

“Oh god that is hot,” he says, eyes locked on your glistening flesh. “You know I can’t just… won’t be able to not…” 

“Poor baby boy, unable to finish…” your lips curl into a mock pout at the same time you reach back and wrap your hand around his swollen cock, “...his sentences.” 

“Oh I can,” he flexes his hips, pressing his cock into your fist. His tongue darts out to lick his beautiful lips. “Let me finish,” he whispers nearly to himself.

“Oh does Baby Boy need Ma’am’s little pussy in his mouth?” You toss out your gentle Dom/sub names to see if he's willing. You know that focusing on someone else can help stop his downward spiral.

“Y-yes, Ma’am, I do,”  he blushes deeply, biting his lip and dropping his eyes. Good lord he is so stunningly enticing when he submits like this.

“Would being my good boy make you feel better?” you want to be sure of his consent. 

He nods eagerly, and seriously. You see just how much he wants it, wants to be told what to do and just let his mind go with someone he trusts. 

You raise an eyebrow at him in mock warning. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he quickly says, “I’ll be a good boy.” 

“Just a good boy,” you nearly pout in mock disappointment. 

“Your good boy,” he can’t say fast enough, “I’m yours Ma’am.” 

“Mmm hmm that’s better. I’m going to sit on that gorgeous face now,” you move your body up, knees on either side of his head. 

“Can I push my tongue inside you? Taste you? Please?” his face is fully deep pink now, embarrassed at his boldness. 

“Of course, baby Boy, of course you can tongue fuck me,” you love how he tries not to be crass, but you practically insist on it. You lower yourself onto him slowly, his tongue out and reaching for your folds, flicking as it comes into contact with your wetness. It sinks in, searching for it’s slot.

“Yes, that’s it, tongue that sweet little hole for Ma’am,” you praise him soothingly. Now is not the time for forcing anything.  

He whimpers softly as you finger-comb his hair, the sensation on his sensitive scalp making him feel more submissive.  He burrows his face between your thighs and pushes inside you as far as he can, nose pressed up against the apex of your folds. 

“Good Boy,” you fist his hair and moan, you just barely keep your hips from pressing into his face. “Keep that up and you’ll earn a reward.” One hand reaches back and lightly brushes his hard shaft. 

His moan vibrates your pussy, notching you up just that much more.

“Do you know what others out there would give to ride this beautiful face? Or to suck this pretty cock? How many of them want you to be theirs?” You ask, voice still even and calm.

“No, and I don’t want to, Ma’am,” he mumbles against your wetness ,”I am yours, only yours.” 

His hands grip your cheeks, tilting your hips and  exposing more of you. He runs his tongue over your tight pucker and up over your labia, over and over in supplication.

“Oh fuck yes,” you moan, “ such a good boy, you’re gonna make Ma’am cum. Is that what you want?”

“Mm, hmmm,” he nods, refusing to use his tongue for anything other than pleasing you. His lips close in sucking kisses on your labia, 

One hand in his glorious hair, the other lightly grasping his cock. You give both a squeeze. 

The sensations make his whole body shake. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue thrusting inside.

You free his cock  and he whines and whimpers, humping his hips upward, desperate for attention. 

“Suck on that clit Baby Boy, you gotta make Ma’am cum if you want more.” 

With a desperate whine, he latches onto your clit. His hands grip your hips tightly as though nothing mattered more than worshiping your pussy. 

The sucking and flicking of his tongue sends waves of pleasure through you. His natural attention to detail and the ardor with which he does it, makes his pussy eating beyond heavenly. 

Within minutes you are shaking above him. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, rocking you forcibly back and forth over his face. 

“So close baby,” your voice is little more than a panting whine. 

“Mmm hmmm” his hum vibrates against your abused bundle of nerves and you are gone. Spine jerking, hips grinding, toes curling. Your head is thrown back and your fingers press against his, trying to weave into his, trying anchor yourself somewhere. But his grip is tight to the round flesh of your cheeks.  He laps at you with long licks, prolonging, but not overstimulating. 

“Oh good boy, good fucking baby,” you moan as you look down at him. His eyes shine with eagerness, he loves when you praise him, loves being a good boy for you. 

You dismount the saddle of his messy face. His smile slides into need as your hand trails down his stomach, stopping a hairsbreadth from his quivering tip. 

“Oh darling boy, you more than earned your reward,” you plant the barest of kisses on his wet lips. “How do you want it, my hand or my mouth, sweetness?”

“Y-your mouth, Ma’am, please,” he stutters, little vertical lines of want forming between his eyebrows. 

“Tch, Baby Boy, you know how much I love your cock in my mouth,” you mockingly chide, one fingertip lightly petting his little weeping hole, “are you picking it to please me? Or do you actually want it?” 

“Yes, no, yes,” his head tries to agree with his words but ends up just drawing scribbles with his chin.

“Well, which is it?”

“Yes please, it’s what I want,” he breathes out.

“And you deserve what you want, don’t you Baby Boy.” 

He hesitates, mind balking at feeling worthy of what he wants. 

“Don’t you,” you insist, swiping this precum over his head with the pad of your thumb.

“Ok, yes, I deserve it,” he relents. 

“Mmmm, yes you do,” you move between his legs, “now reach back, grab the headboard with both hands and keep them there.” 

He immediately obeys, forearms popping in lines as he grips.  His legs spread wider, giving you room to do your work. He is so eager to have your mouth on him. 

His cock, leaking and hard, jumps and jerks in an attempt to get closer to your face.

“You’re gonna give me all your cum, right? Let Ma’am take care of you?” you ask just before your tongue reaches out to lap at his frenulum.

He trembles at your teasing lick, nodding frantically. 

“Y- y-yes Ma’am, I- I’ll give you everything,” his breath catches as you take his tip in your mouth, your tongue swirling. 

You slide up and down, covering him in your spit. Holding him upright with a light forefinger and thumb, you massage your soft palate with his tip. The deeper you take him, the lower his groans become.  His glutes flex and his balls tighten. 

You pull off to his whiny protest both in his voice and in the straining of his hips from the bed. 

“Who’s an amazing boy?” you ask, rubbing his tip over your lips like so much lipgloss. 

“Please Ma’am,” he whines. 

You give him the look, the one that says ‘answer the question asked’.

“I-I am, I’m amazing, I’ll be the best boy for you Ma’am, just please,” his need making a beggar out of him. 

“Yes you are,” you lower your mouth back down, engulfing him for two more minutes. The uninhibited sounds he makes are music to your ears; groans, huffs, deep shaky oh- hohs.

“And who is going to accept help when he needs it without feeling guilty?” you purr to him.

Your ears are met with a cacophony of his whimpering moans. 

“Me, I will, ask help, no guilt,” his words muddle together.

“Good boy,” you lightly rub up and down his shaft, “and who is deserving of my love?” 

“Me” his voice is strained with desire, “I deserve your love.” His hips buck into your hand.

“That’s right” you plunge his needy cock into your mouth and he’s back to sounds of pleasure. After five deep bobs of your head you come off with a pop. 

“Who’s sensitivity is his superpower?”

“Me, mine, my power” he is panting heavily now, body shuddering with unmet need. “Please Ma’am please let me cum.” 

You stop touching him all together. His arms are taut gripping the headboard as he stops from reaching down to jerk himself off. 

“Oh Baby Boy,” you softly rebuke, “I will, just keep doing as I say. Now tell me you love yourself and that you are worthy of love and recognition.” 

“I- l love myself,” his voice is laced equally with need, desperation and vulnerability, “I am worth loving” a tear escapes down his cheek. “I am worthy of recognition and appreciation.” 

He looks down at you, planted between his thighs.  His defenses are stipped away and there you are  forcing him to say things that he has never allowed himself the luxury of believing. 

“Now repeat it as I suck you off,” you lower your mouth to just out of reach, waiting for him to speak.

“I, oh fuck” he moans as you hover over him.  

“Let me hear you, or I’ll stop,” you warn.

“I love myself,” he begins, your warm mouth envelopes him, “Oh fuck yeah, I deserve love, your love. I’m worthy of being seen and appreciated. I’m enough.” 

Your hand pumps up and down under your mouth, strings of saliva drip onto his balls. 

“Oh fuck yes, I’m so fucking worthy,” his words like a floodgate as you work him. “I’m loved, I’m deserving, I’m your good boy, I deserve your love and my cumming, Oh god i’m so worthy and you love me just as I’m enough, I’m enough I’m so fucking enough. Oh god it’s so good. I love you, I love me, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” 

His hips buck up into your throat. A desperate guttural moan escapes his chest and he spills, thick and hot over your tongue.

You gulp and swallow every drop. 

“Keep it up,” you say, your double meaning all too clear as you straddle his hips and sink your dripping pussy over his throbbing cock. 

“Oh fuck,” his eyes roll back. 

You pull at his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit. 

“Say it,” you insist as you start to ride him. 

“I’m - I’m enough, I’m worthy” he chokes out each affirmation between gasps of over-stimmed pleasure. 

You grind into him, chasing your orgasm.

“I deserve you, your love ohgodohgodohgod I love you, to be fucked like this, pleasured like this, I am worthy, I  am loved, I am enough,”  his words are mantras, letting his stream of consciousness flow.

“Yes you fucking are,” you moan as you ride, “You glorious, magnificent man.” 

“I am worthy, I am loved, I am enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Worthy, loved, enough, worthy, loved, enough. Oh god I’m gonna cum again.” 

Your movements become frantic as you force yourself into the abyss, dragging him with you.

Your hips tuck, your back rounds. His ass raises you, forcing himself deep inside. His words turn into a convulsing mishmash of hard G’s and open vowel sounds. The soundtrack to your own orgasm.  Your pussy floods with both your own release and  the cum his body is tensing to deliver. You lift and thrust and jerk in mind-wiping pleasure. His hands grip you, pleading for the stillness he can’t voice right now. 

Finally, you collapse, sweaty and spent, on top of his heaving chest.  His arms lock on to you as you both recover breath and sanity.

“Say,” he swallows, “say it again, please?”

You nuzzle his cheek with your own. “You are more than enough just as you are. You are an amazing human, Austin. Your sensitivity is your superpower. You are worthy of my love, of your own love. You deserve pleasure and joy.” You cup his face, staring into his ocean eyes. “I love you so much and nothing will ever change that.” 

His eyes well up with tears, emotion threatening to overwhelm him yet again. “I love you too. You are magic.”  He holds you close, the weight he walked in with happily lifted.

[ang3lmoans]

Was anger even a factor anymore? Angel couldn't decide. Before his best friend walked out the door he felt nothing but hurt and turmoil. Now, when he opened the door and saw Garam standing there looking so damn cute he could barely think straight. Having Axel try to attack him truly put into perspective what Garam was possibly going through behind closed doors. Angel was still dealing with what was said to him. But anger wasn't present. “I can take you to bed like this? Do you hear yourself sometimes” Angel let out a laugh as he followed Garam to his bedroom. “We had a pretty big fight. Did you really want me to carry you?” If the other wasn't drunk he might have given in to his urges. However, he had held on for many years. Priding himself on his self-control. He wasn't about to give up that streek so easily. As he followed the man to his room he kicked himself for not taking down all the random towels and blankets he had scattered around covering the mirrors. He mentally prayed Garam was too inebriated to focus on details. “Don't you want my towel to drop? Maybe see something else you like” Angel teased knowing that would stop the man's giggling. As they entered the room the taller man led him to the bed and pulled back the covers for his best friend. “Get in bed. I'm going to get dressed but I should dry off some.” Angel backed away toward his draws picking through them. He finally settled on his usual shorts and a t-shirt before disappearing into the bathroom. He took his time drying off trying to remember to carry Garam to his bed the other night. Wondering what he was thinking. Knowing he would never do something so bold sober. Chuckling to himself the man finally got dressed and came out of the bathroom. As he laid eyes on his best friend he was grateful the man came home. Before the other’s ex showed up he didn't think he would get sleep not knowing where Garam was. But he wouldn't dare text to ask. His eyes softened as he walked over to the bed and climbed in. For tonight he needed to let go of their argument and enjoy drunk Garam. He was always cute, but when he got drunk like this it was hard to be upset with him. “We can talk in the morning. I'll make breakfast, alright?”

garam's eyes fluttered when angel praised him for coming home. something as simple as being called a good boy made his heart race even more. "i thought it meant you were done being mad at me. how could i say no when you're begging to have me back?" even if there was a chance that angel was still mad, garam would have come back if the man had asked. it was hard to deny somebody like angel, all it really took was a simple please and garam could feel himself caving. as the other had moved closer, staring down to him, garam froze once again. his heart was beating so hard at this point, he was sure angel could hear it and that made him nervous. for some reason, garam just really did not want angel to realize the kind of effect he had on him. it was like he was a child with a crush, too afraid to admit to the feelings he had out of fear of rejection, fear of teasing. but he knew he shouldn't be feeling this way, especially since angel had already confessed his feelings for garam. he did his best not to break eye contact but there was a short moment there where his eyes shifted down to the other's lips, thinking the other might have tried to kiss him with how close he'd gotten, but they were quick to move back up to find angel's eyes again. as relieved as he was when that moment didn't come, when angel continued to speak, there was still a part of garam that was a bit disappointed. that feeling, however, was quick to vanish once angel had called him baby. he was a little embarrassed to realize that angel had known what garam had called him, he didn't think the other knew what it meant. "i'm not that drunk," his words were mumbled, as if he were ashamed to admit that he'd been drinking in the first place but, at the time, he was desperate to stop feeling as bad as he did. now, he wished he hadn't drank as much as he did. he approached the other so he could take the man's hand but he kept his feet glued in place once they were standing side by side. "you know, you carried me to bed in your arms last night." he noted, specifically because all angel was offering tonight was his hand. "i'll let you take me like this," he lifted their hands together, giving his a small squeeze, "since you're practically naked right now." he snickered, looking down to the towel slung around angel's hips. "wouldn't want anything slipping out," garam continued through soft giggles now, taking the initiative to pull angel back towards his room. not wanting angel's towel to fall wasn't the only reason he was okay with walking to bed himself, though. it was for his own benefit, too, as he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle more physical contact than what they already shared right now.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Trouble | Batfam x Batmom x Batsis

Synopsis: Vivian and Bruce get a call from Valerie's teacher and they are in it for a shock to know what their daughter and her big brothers’ did.

Vivian has been called by the homeroom teachers of Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian numerous times when they were still in school. Well, Damian is still in school and there are times when she would still get the call from them too for whenever he is a “smartass” (their words, not her, and she didn't appreciate the term too but they too claim that was what his classmates would call him). It was normal to be called for the antics they do and the words they use in school, they are exposed to many things at a young age with their duties as Robin. 

But when Valerie started school, while she did expect to get a call from her daughter's homeroom teacher once in a while, she didn't expect it to be something so serious that she would find her husband parking the same time she was at the school parking lot.

“You got the call too?” Vivian asked him.

“Yeah. Is it really that bad that we're both needed?” Bruce went to her side so they can head inside together. 

Vivian gave him an incredulous look, “What can a five-year-old do? This is preschool?”

“What did you do when you were five that got you in trouble?” 

Vivian shrugged. “I don’t know – I didn't stick around that much anyway, but I do remember telling my pre-school teacher to ‘fuck off’ and raised the middle finger at them too. And I remember biting my teacher's hand until it bled.”

“Any reason?”

“I was seven then, the school wouldn't admit it, but that teacher of mine was a creepy-pedo and he tried to touch me. My mom taught me a thing or two to spot them and when he got  a little handsy I bit it so hard the nurses said he needed stitches.”

“I don't think that's the case with Val, it better not be,” Bruce growled at the last part.

“If one of her teachers even touch her in a way they're not, I swear, they rather want Batman's justice than the Phoenix's.”

Bruce knew that to be true. In interrogations, Superman and Batman are called the good cop and the bad cop – the carrot and the stick. But with tougher cases, he prefers to bring in Vivian; they were bad cop and bad cop. The stick and the crowbar. And both scenarios he was the stick.

Arriving at Valerie's homeroom, they found their daughter sitting at her desk, alone, while drawing on a pad with crayons. After greeting Valerie's teacher, Vivian and Bruce went to their daughter to greet her. Valerie smiled at the sight of them and welcomed the kisses they placed on her cheeks.

“What happened, baby?” Vivian asked.

Valerie pouted and went back to her drawing.

Vivian and Bruce exchanged looks in confusion and worry. 

“Val, what are you drawing?” Bruce asked.

“Nothing,” Valerie muttered and continue to color on her drawing. 

“Mr. Wayne, Mrs. Pryor-Wayne, why don't we head here to talk?” Val's teacher gestured to her table at the very front where two seats were.

Leaving their daughter's side, Vivian and Bruce settled at the seats and asked what happened. Valerie's teacher went straight to the story, how the class was doing their paintings, and then – while the whole thing did start with Dalton Fallbrook putting on her hair and Valerie responded to flipping him over her shoulder, then her saying…

“What?” Bruce said, completely in shock.

“I just have to know, does Valerie usually hear that language at home?” 

Bruce turned to Vivian. His wife glared at him and said, “You know I stopped when Valerie was born!”

“You sometimes slip, Viv.”

“I do not! Besides, I don't use those in one go.”

“No one is pointing fingers, Mrs. Pryor-Wayne –” Valerie's teacher began.

“Tell him that! He's pointing fingers at me!” Vivian pointed her thumb at Bruce. “You know what – Val, baby, can you come over here for a sec?”

“Okay!” Valerie got up and went to her mother's side.

“Your teacher said you said a bad word –”

“Stupid fucking bitch,” Valerie said.

Bruce groaned and ran his hand down his face.

“Yes, yes, baby, no need to say it again. Don't ever say it again,” Vivian told her in a gentle voice. “I just want to know where did you… did you get it from me? From Mom?”

“No,” Valerie fiddled with the hem of her jacket.

“Then who, Val?” Bruce asked.

Oh the names she gave…

It made Bruce and Vivian sigh loudly and call everyone in their group chat to come to the manor.

~*~

“What's with the emergency call?” Dick asked, arriving at the sitting room.

“Yeah, I was at a job,” Jason walked in, and he went straight to where Val was to pick her up and swing her around. “Miss you, baby bird!”

“Jay!” Valerie giggled, but when he stopped she pouted and said: “I got in trouble.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“That is exactly what we're all going to talk about now,” said Vivian, who was standing there with Bruce and Alfred with the very latter holding a jar. A very familiar jar to Jason.

“Hey, isn't that the curse jar we had back then?” He asked Alfred. “I thought that broke.”

Setting down Valerie, the girl ran to where her mother was and sat on the couch between her parents. With everyone gathered – Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara – Vivian got to the point.

“Bruce and I were called to Val's pre-school earlier because of an incident,” she began.

“Who's the kid who needs a beating?” Jason asked.

“No one… Val already beat him up.”

“What did he do?” Damian crossed his arms over his chest.

Valerie pouted. “He pulled on my hair.”

“That's it,” Damian was about to leave but Dick held him down.

“Like Vivian said, Valerie already handled the situation,” Bruce said.

“How?” Tim asked, very much curious, like the others.

“She flipped him over her shoulder,” Vivian answered. And before they could celebrate, she added, “Then she said a very very bad word which she said she learned from you all.”

“Which is?” Tim asked.

Before Vivian could say, Valerie said: “Stupid fucking bitch!”

Silence came to the room. One that was so fragile that a simple tap would break, and it did break when Dick and Jason laughed so loudly. 

“It is not a laughing matter, Master Dick, Master Jason!” Alfred told them.

“Come on, Alfred, it is a little funny,” Jason shrugged.

Seeing Dick and Jason were laughing because of what she said, Valerie repeated it: “Stupid fucking bitch!”

Dick and Jason laughed again.

“Val, let’s not say that word again,” Duke tried to get her to stop.

“Well, I think this answers the question we were going to ask on who taught her that,” Vivian crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come on! We're not the only ones who say that!” Dick said. “I use ‘Damian’ whenever I'm in deep shit.” And he does, Dick would always say: “You stupid piece of… Damian.” instead of shit.

“Hey!” Damian exclaimed.

“It's not like I taught her how to use it!” Jason said.

They turned to Tim. 

Tim sat up. “I would never! Sure, do I curse whenever the gremlin pisses me off, but that doesn't mean I would sit down and teach her how to use it.”

They turned to Stephanie, she said to all of them: “Hey! The only thing I taught Val is how to do puzzles and riddles!”

Then to Barbara. 

“No,” Barbara simply said.

Then to Damian.

Damian glared at them. “I wouldn't – not to Val.”

“Okay, so no one taught Val how to curse,” Bruce sighed in relief.

“Hey, how come no one questioned Cass and Duke?” Jason said.

“Do you really think they would curse around Val?” Tim raised a brow at him.

They were sure a halo appeared atop the heads of Cassandra and Duke.

“So, that means, she just learned how to use it after hearing us use them,” Vivian groaned. “Right, to fix this we agreed to bring back an old thing we had in the Manor… Jason is familiar with this since it was with him this started.”

“A curse jar?” Damian snorted. “Like that will work. I don't see Todd having the cleanest mouth of us all.”

“You have no idea the innuendo that has, do you?” Stephanie smirked.

“The what?” 

Before Stephanie could explain, Alfred coughed, catching their attention, and pointed to Valerie's direction. There was a child present!

Jason snickered. “Is it still a dollar per curse word?”

“I don't like that tone, wanna make it five per curse word?” Vivian raised a brow at them.

“No!” They all exclaimed.

“Sure about that, Ma? Last time, the both of us were neck-a-neck with our donations to the curse-jar.”

“And that money got us to buy the new television that broke down,” said Alferd. “And some items in our grocery list.”

It was in Jason's time in the manor that Bruce realized he was paying so little for groceries and wondered how much cursing Vivian and Jason do around the manor. So much that it could pay for groceries and a T.V..

“So, any more cursing, we put a dollar here,” Vivian pointed to the jar. “So, before we start, wanna get something out?” She covered Valerie's ears. “Now is the time.”

Damian raised his hand. “Who was the bastard who messed with Val? I'll fuckign kill him.”

“You're not going to kill anyone – besides, he's a kid!” Bruce told Damian.

Jason raised his hand. “Did Val really flipping off the fucker?”

“Yes, she did. And I'm proud of her for it. The little shit deserved it anyway,” Vivian said.

Dick raised his hand. “Can I go now? I need to take a Damian.”

“I hate you, Grayson,” Damian glared at Dick.

Tim raised a hand. “Shit. Fuck. Bitch… that's it, just wanna get that out.”

Vivian sighed. “Anyone else who wants to get it out of their system?” 

No one said they were good.

“Alright, from now on,” Alfred began. “If anyone curses, it will be fined a dollar. It starts now.”

Silence came to the manor.

Valerie got down the couch and went to Damian, “Play?” she asked him.

“Homework first then we play,” Damian told her.

Valerie huffed and agreed to his terms.

When they left, Jason turned to Vivian, “How come she goes to the gremlin to play? The little fucker knows nothing about playing house!”

Alfred and Bruce sighed and held out the jar to him.

Jason grumbled and shoved two dollars.

“That's a dollar too much,” said Bruce.

“Yeah, because I paid for the next one. This is a shitty plan, didn't stop me from calling you—” he dropped another dollar “— you a piece of shit, B.” 

Silence again.

“So,” Tim began. “Does this also apply to patrols?”

An idea popped in Bruce, Vivian, and Alfred's head, and the smirks on their faces made everyone else groan. Annoyed with the new rule. 

[ask-pomni-things]

U-uh- hi-!

I'm Pomni, at least... that's my new name.

Caine said this was for an adventure... it's not as bad as going to literal hell, but it's close.

—————————————

The other cast is here if you want to see them too-? including Caine...

Ragatha ♡ — @ask-ragatha-tadc

Another Ragatha I interact with sometimes — @sweetragdoll

Jax — @ask-jax-the-rabbit

...More Jax's, I guess. — @ask-jax-things & @ask-bnuuny-tadc

Zooble — @zooble-the-whatever-i-am

Gangle — @ask-gangle-blog

Kinger — @asksuperlightextras (old account: @askkingerthings )

Queenie — @askthequeen

Caine — @ask-teeth-eyes

Gummigoo ☆ — @ask-gummigoo

—————————————

I have some other people I interact with that are cool... for the most part?

Friends — @shortmomma1993 & @hophopscotch

... "grandma", I guess. — @pakodelfandom

My (informally) adopted kid, bucket(and others, I think?) — @bubble-trubble-and-co

((ooc intro & rules under cut))

—————————————

Hello~!

welcome to the ask blog I made to feed my hyperfixation on these silly little characters!!

☆ You can call me Oreo, my main blog is @or3oartz ! ☆

I post a lot of tadc fanart, so if you're interested in that, go check me out <3 I also sometimes draw things based on the ask blogs just for the fun of it!

there are other ask blogs not listed here, which you can find on THIS POST!

From this point forward, when I'm making ooc posts/ comments on posts I'll speak like ((this))

I use "he/they" pronouns, if you're referring to me, please use them!!

—————————————

Few headcanons to be made clear!!

Pomni is biromantic asexual. But currently identifies as queer, she hasn't figured herself out yet :]

She's not a kid person, the only exceptions are Bucket and Ariah (only relevant to the blog)

Pomni's favourite animals are rabbits. (not connected to Jax./srs )

Pomni doesn't hate anyone, she may strongly dislike people, but in the end she'd still help people. They're all stuck in here together.

—————————————

Rules! ♡

Some rules(and boundaries) to be aware of!

No nsfw at ALL! we're a family friendly establishment!!

Absolutely NO bigotry is allowed! (so no racism, sexism, LGBTQ-phobia, etc.)

Ships are allowed! You can mention them! (except pomni may not give your preferred response... so be warned.) The main ship here is JesterDoll, but I also ship funnybunny so little implications may be made/joked about by me. :] Does she like Jax? you'll never know...

Only 1 image/gif per ask! if you're sending art that isn't yours, credit the OG artist/state it's not yours!

DON'T SEND LINKS! Even YouTube links!

don't be overly mean/rude. That's JAX'S job 😒 (/j) (seriously though, there's enough hate right now)

Remember NONE OF THIS IS CANON! I'll reference the canon show, but this blog is NOT affiliated with Glitch Productions or Gooseworx in any way!

Don't dm me. Don't dm this blog, don't dm my other blogs. The only exception is if it's IMPORTANT! (ex. warning me about problematic people) It makes me extremely uncomfortable.

Only send asks related to the blog please. And don't send multiple asks for a conversation, just reblog.

If I don't answer your ask/reblog, please do not go out of your way to get me to answer!

NO MORE HAMSTER POMNI. That got old FAST. 😭

Don't try to date Pomni?? Use character AI or something 💀 Also stop "kidnapping" her.

If misuse your anon privileges, I WILL turn it off. I'm serious.

Failure to follow these rules will get your ask deleted, and possibly blocked. You only get ONE warning.

[corishadowfang]

Ephemer Week Day 3

Prompt: Heart | Home | Do you have any headcanons for him?

"Home is where the heart is," or something like that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            “Hey.  What was your guys’ lives like?  Before you came here, I mean.”

            Ephemer wasn’t sure what time it was at this point.  After midnight, definitely.  The sky was still dark out, the Foretellers’ Chambers similarly dim, and all of them—even Brain—had drooping eyes, even if most of them had been too stubborn to actually fall asleep.  (Lauriam had been the exception; he had fallen face-first into a pillow and gone to sleep almost immediately.  Ephemer had half-joked that they should draw something on his face; only Ven’s puppy-dog eyes had saved him.)

            Skuld hummed, blinking sleepily at Ven’s question.  She was still sitting up, a blanket around her shoulders, but was wobbly enough that it looked like she could fall asleep at any moment.  Still, her answer was clear enough: “Busy.  I had a big family—we were always doing something.”

            “Lucky,” Ephemer said.  “I wish I had a big family.  It was always just me and my Dad.”

            “It’s not as exciting as you’d think.”  She folded her arms across her knees, pillowing her head against them.  “Mostly we just got into trouble.”

            Brain snorted.  “Never would’ve guessed.”

            “What about you, then?” Skuld countered.

            “Doesn’t matter.”

            Skuld threw a pillow at him, eliciting a noise of protest.

            Ephemer snorted, but turned to Ven, who was watching the growing ‘conflict’ with a bemused expression.  “Why d’you ask?”

            “Oh, uh—no reason.  Just thinking.”

            A pillow flew by Ephemer’s face.  He blinked, then scooted back a little, closer to Ven and out of range.  Sitting next to him, he could see the almost melancholy look on the younger Union Leader’s face.

            Ven squirmed, like he was aware he was being studied, and wasn’t sure how he felt about it.  “It’s just—everybody came from somewhere.  Before Daybreak Town, I mean.  It’s just—I wondered.”

            It felt like there was something more that he wasn’t saying, and it prompted Ephemer to ask, “Do you miss it?”

            Ven started.

            “I—don’t think I miss it as much as I should.”  It was an admission that bothered him a bit, but it was true; even when he’d been little, he’d always been ready to jump into the next adventure.  Never sitting still, never willing to stay home for longer than it took to go out again.  His dad had lamented that he was ‘going to disappear into the woods chasing fairies.’  He guessed, in a way, he’d been right.  “I always wanted to see what else was out there.  There’s a lot we don’t know, and I wanted to figure out everything.  When I found out about Daybreak Town, I didn’t even really hesitate.  ‘Head toward the rising sun, and you’ll find a town made for children on the edge of the world.’  Who could ignore that?”

            He remembered when Daybreak Town had been nothing more than another mystery to solve.  It had offered so much more than anything he’d ever known—the Keyblades and the Heartless and the Foretellers and Daybreak Town’s existence itself.  He’d gone off with barely a goodbye, and poked and prodded at Daybreak Town’s mysteries until—

            Until.

            (He wondered, sometimes, on his darkest nights, what had happened to them—the people outside of Daybreak Town.  Were they still alive out there?  Was his dad?

            …Did he have any idea of what had become of his son?)

            “…I don’t miss it, either.”

            Ephemer started, drawn out of his thoughts by Ven’s quiet admission.  The younger Union Leader looked almost guilty, but he didn’t take the words back.

            “Hey!”

            That wasn’t a voice Ephemer had expected to hear, and he and Ven both turned to see Lauriam very suddenly awake, glaring at a nervous-looking Brain and Skuld, pillow gripped in both hands.

            “Ephemer?” Skuld asked, tentative.  “Ven?”

            “Good luck!” Ephemer chirped, and got a brief look of betrayal before it disappeared behind a pillow.

            Ven laughed, and Ephemer laughed with him, something lightening in his chest, despite the late hours.  This is…probably closer to home than my old one was, he thought, but didn’t say.  His chest ached at the thought, but it was true; he couldn’t imagine leaving Daybreak Town anymore, or losing any of the people here.  They meant more to him than anything.

            (And maybe—maybe he did still wish that he hadn’t been so quick to leave his old home and family behind.  But he couldn’t go back; not now.

            He’d just have to do better by this one.)

[demoralizedreprobate]

the note says "ring bell for service"

(enlarge for better resolution tumblr kills pixel art)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Good morning, Sleepyhead.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[divine-draws]

Take me to the docks, there is a ship without a name there And it is sailing to the middle of the sea The water there is deeper than anything you've ever seen Jump right in and swim until you're free

[mintjeru]

companionship and understanding happy pride from my beloveds!!

open for better quality | no reposts

[pa-pa-plasma]

hey i feel like we're really sleeping on that time Danny possessed Vlad & framed him for assaulting a minor

Editing with the clip because people don't believe me. Episode is 41: Eye for an Eye.

[didderd]

Hello beautiful creature!

Question for him beautiful, adorable and handsome Crack;

I understand that one of your hobbies is cooking. Doesn't it affect you to handle animal products such as very large and recognizable pieces of meat?

Crack: Yeah, I uh... don't touch th' stuff... Jus'.... vague cuts a' boneless meat... But... 'still struggle with cuttin' this stuff sometimes..

[creativity-deficient]

“South Park is a satirical show that goes after everybody and at the end of the day is meant to make you laugh and not be taken seriously” and “south park jokes about sensitive topics that hit close to home for a lot of people and it’s absolutely valid to feel uncomfortable by some of it” are statements that should be able to co-exist tbh