#sometimes it feels like it was yesterday

[gomzdrawfr]

Sap

Past Gomz would burst into tears knowing Present Gomz gets asks about oc stuff

[nonranghaes]

chris keeps you secure and warm in his arms as the two of you go on a ghibli marathon. he snuggles in closer, lips pressing against the crook of your neck for the tiniest of pecks before he plans another one further up it--just behind your ear. he cuddles you again, eyelashes brushing against your skin as he lets out this blissful sigh.

"comfy?" you tease a little, and you feel him smile against your skin.

"mmhm," he wraps his arms around you a little tighter, leaning back into the couch even more. "you?"

you squirm just a little to readjust, and relax into him as you enjoy the warmth of his embrace. it becomes just more apparent how badly the two of you needed a cozy, happy movie night like this. "mhm. i'm perfect."

"i know," he giggles. he reaches toward where the blanket has slipped, and carefully readjusts it so that the two of you are nice and snug again. "it's okay if you fall asleep, by the way," he mumbles. "i've got you."

(he falls asleep first anyway. he always does, but you're never far behind when you listen to the sound of his heart beating in his chest. maybe you'll pick the movies back up another day.)

[xskyll]

I tried resizing this a million times to Tumblr’s recommended specifications, and it just refuses to post clear, so sorry it’s blurry. =‘)

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[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

why do we go back?

damian wayne x reader

warnings: anxiety, kind of a panic attack?, implied past trauma/abuse

wc: 800

~~

“I went back.”

“Why? They—”

“I don’t know. I don’t know why. I—” 

“Damian, honey, breathe.” 

-

Damian’s brothers don’t text you that often. You don’t have their numbers saved in your phone. Or you didn’t. You have Tim’s now. 

come to the manor now. non-medical emergency 

oh and this is tim by the way 

You don’t even see the text until you’re done with your meeting, phone on do not disturb and notes document in fullscreen mode. It was sent at 1:30 in the afternoon. Bad things aren’t supposed to happen at 1:30 in the afternoon. 

I’m on my way, you text back at 3:00. Is he okay? The response comes as you’re setting up your gps. no. then, i mean he’s fine but no. You pull out of your parking spot a little faster than you should have. 

Once you get on the highway, you turn off the GPS. The number 21 exit towards Bristol and Wayne manor is nearly as familiar as your own. You’re thankful for the dozens of trips you’ve made because Tim calls you five minutes in. 

“What happened?” You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. The anxiety that had taken root when you saw the first text is morphing quickly into fear. 

“He disappeared.” 

“What?” 

“He’s not on manor grounds anymore. But he’s not in his suit.” 

On top of the phone call screen, a push notification lets you know that Damian's code was used to disarm your alarm system. You let out a short breath and switch lanes. Your exit is the next one. 

“I know where he is,” you tell Tim as you shift over into the right lane. It’s a little backed up, the way it always is this time of day, “I got him.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You take exit 24 towards the lower east side, then switch to an even more local highway and take exit 8 towards the residential district. When you pull into your parking spot in the cul-de-sac, your house looks empty. When you walk inside, Damian’s combat boots are sitting by the door, not unlaced all the way. One of them is sitting on its side. The other is askew. You let your bag slide off your shoulder to hit the ground next to your own shoes and venture further in. 

Damian’s sitting on the steps in dark casual clothes and white socks with a paint blob pattern. His knees are bent, legs pressed against his chest. Your steps aren’t steep and Damian is very tall. Hands clenched into fists rest on top of his knees. His neck is bent too, forehead pressed against his fists. 

You slide back on the wooden steps when you sit down. Damian doesn’t so much as twitch. You wait for him to come to you. He does. 

“I went back.” His voice is rough but not thick with tears. 

“Why?” You ask. The League leaves him with deep hurts every time he goes back to Nanda Parbat. And not the physical kind. “They—”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims like the words burst out of his chest. The energy propels him up, fingers digging into the arms of his sweatshirt as he rocks on his heels. “I don’t know why. I—” 

“Damian, honey,” You stand to meet him. The emotions in his green eyes are wild, untethered. “Breathe.” He shakes his head at you, fingers curling harder into his sleeves. “You can.” Damian scans your body language and you let him, relaxing the tension in your shoulders and leaving your hands open, arms angled to hold him if he wants it. 

“I’m here,” you say to the hesitation in his eyes. “You’re safe.”

You let out a grunt of air as Damian slams into you. His arms wrap around you tight enough that you think he’s afraid you’ll turn into smoke if he lets go. You raise your arms more slowly, one coming up to rub at his back and the other to cup the back of his neck.His knees buckle. You slow your descent to the ground only barely, saving your knees from catching the brunt of your weight. Your butt stings instead from how hard it hit the floor but it’s worth it when Damian buries his face into the junction between your neck and your collarbone and breathes. They’re choppy loud breaths that come with shoulders shuddering under the hand you have rubbing up and down his back, but no tears hit your neck. 

“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, cheek pressed against the top of his head. “You’re safe here.” Damian’s arms only tighten further. In response, you hold him tighter too. 

Why do we go back, you wonder, when we know the only thing to come of it is more pain? 

[neuroid]

[marciaillust]

mom come pick me up people related to my personal posts too much

[lacedwispr]

[butchviking]

i hate being a mentally ill adult actually. i hate that there’s always groceries to be bought and housekeeping to do and work in the morning i hate that we have no space to feel it all i hate that we walk around acting normal. there are so many people i know who are clearly deeply unhappy with their lives and we make silly little jokes that allude to it but sometimes i want to grab them by the shoulders and scream ‘i know you are miserable!! we can’t keep living like this!! this is why people break!!’ im sick of this drudgerous apathy i want us all to be dramatic like when we were teenagers i want us to sob together and scream bloody murder at each other and tell each other we want to kill ourselves not as a funny post-ironic joke but because we all feel like that sometimes!! i want us to get fucked up on god knows what til we can’t open our eyes i want us to take care of each other instead of always taking care of ourselves i want us to be vulnerable i want us to hold each others hands in the ambulance!!

[around-your-throat]

my ass is not getting into heaven with these pink haired pete wentz pictures on my computer dawg 🤣

[booplesnotts-art]

hi! could you maybe draw micheal and/or dagon?

Hello hello! Of course🖤

So I’ve literally never drawn Dagon before in my life and this was a STRUGGLE so I am sorry if it doesn’t really look like them I tried😭😭

I planned on answering this request with a drawing of them actually interacting but this is what I have for now

I plan on drawing them kissing though I mean what

Bonus cause I thought I was funny with this one

[tj-crochets]

I had exactly enough purple scraps left from the starry purple quilt to make a baby quilt! Well, the quilt top isn't exactly done yet, but pretty close, just one more round of ironing and sewing left

[merp-blerp]

Hamilton will be 10 years old next year…

[caprisun89bakerstreet]

My biggest flex appearance-wise is that multiple people throughout my life have said i could be cast as a (background) elf in lord of the rings. That’s my only flex actually

[ganondoodle]

everyones more than welcome to send me asks about stuff* btw, i know i havent been that good in answering, but i think thats largely bc i always want to do too much, like .. drawing entire character design sheets and everything and then never having the energy or motivation for it so it sits around like all of my hundreds of wips i never finished bc i lost energy/motivation, waiting for it to come back .. which might never happen (and i still dont know how to handle compliments ,, i might never will tbh- if i havent answered a compliment its very very likely i dont know how to properly convey my gratitude- feeling like theres no amount of things i can do or say to 'pay back'? ... kinda weird if you think about it .. but i am weird so what do i know jsklfnhsdk, i promise you i treasure it)

im pretty sure not everyone that sends an ask expects a drawing or multiple and pages long text right? thats my skewed perspective isnt it?

*stuff being like .. about my ocs, about my zelda comic, about the totk rewrite project, suggestions, ideas, rants too, kind of anything though im less likely to respond to personal things (and in case theres anyone newer to tumblr, asks dont have to be literal questions, you can write in those what you want, i like them alot bc its a lil message without the chat type of commitment to it ... im even worse at keeping up responding in chats (not intentionally .. my short term memory sucks) o3o)

[affluent-havoc]

art block got me like: