#thanks for the inspo anon

[tmascearth]

I like how this either implies Sun just found out that the rockycule exists or that Mercury reads yaoi manga

it's the second one

[sf-akahana]

if your still into t//lo/z have you considered the pu/ffshrooms ?

Man, I guess that's really all it took to get me to write lol

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

“The President’s standing! That was brilliant! I would have never thought of it.” Addison yelled as the oddly angled Hudson Construction sign stayed precariously upright, and quickly got to work securing it. Link huffed in amusement; this was not the first time he’d helped the ambitious man to put up these signs. Rather than creativity, it was probably more the lack of his Ultrahand ability that stunts Addison’s endeavors. Or his continuous lack of proper planning – that could also be it.

“Perfect! With your help President Hudson is now standing proudly and firmly in place!” Addison cheered before rummaging through his backpack. Link sighed but waited patiently; the other man had insisted on showering him in gifts as thanks every time he’d helped in the past, and objections had only fell on deaf ears. Some pocket change, a ticket for free stable lodging, and some veggie rice balls were pushed into his arms with much excitement. Link nodded in appreciation, smiling as he tucked the gifts into Epona’s pack, before Addison called for him again.

“You know, I still don’t feel like I’ve thanked you enough! So here, this is something form my special collection!” And with that Link was presented with a… mushroom? Though not one he’d ever seen before. It was vibrantly patterned with a strange pitcher shape, and a cloud of fine spores fluttered from the opening when it was pushed into his hands. Link scrunched his nose.

“This is a Puffshroom! It was recently brought up from the Depths, I have a friend on the exploration team so I had him bring me back some interesting things. He said that if you throw this little thing into a hoard of monsters, it causes them to get confused and start attacking each other! He also said it’s bitter and inedible, and I don’t know if I want to know how he found that out-”

While Addison was chatting more at Link than with him, the Puffshroom continued to release spores whenever he so much as shifted his stance. The smell it released wasn’t very strong but it had a subtle tingle to it that was starting to make Link sniffle. He absentmindedly shifted the shroom to one hand so he could itch at his nose with the other. His first mistake was missing the layer of powder dusted over both his hands.

“hhih! hH-Att-!!”

“Oh! Hylia’s blessings!”

The tingle in his nose had quickly solidified into a sneeze, hastily stifled for it’s unexpectedness. His second mistake was in his surprise Link had sneezed towards his own chest, jostling the Puffshroom and causing a substantial cloud of spores to puff up directly into his down turned face. His nose did not like that.

“Uh, friend? Are you gonna-?”

“eh- hah- hAH!!”

Link quickly shoved the Puffshroom towards Addison as his breath hitched frantically, not caring if he hit his mark as long as the tickly spores were AWAY from his face. He wrenched himself opposite the other as a desperate sneeze threw the swordsman forward, spraying the ground and unable to cover his sneezes or touch his nose with his hands covered in powder.

“aAH’Tchhu!! -T’chiew! Hih-hI! hyAT’chhh!!”

Link sniffled as his irritated nose gave him a second to breath, tears leaking down his cheeks from the sheer itchiness. Embarrassment washed over him as he started to hitch into more sneezes; he was completely helpless and out of control, unable to even rub his nose without making everything worse. His head was thrown back into a series of sharp, ticklish gasps, only to stall just before release. Link whined slightly, almost tempted to tickle his own nose with his dusted fingers just to get it over with. Before he could do something he’d regret, an unexpected pair of fingers covered in a soft cloth settled around his frustrated nose. A soft nudge to his septum all he needed for the stuck sneezes to come crashing through him.

“hHHA-!! AK’TCHHIEWw!! hih- k’Tchuu! t’Chu! Uh’tChiew!! oh...snf!”

The end of his fit left him red faced and panting, a hand held tightly against shoulder for support. He quickly took the slightly damp handkerchief from Addison’s other hand. Link was known to have an unbreakable poker face in a bygone age, but he wasn’t sure he could keep the flaming heat from his cheeks no matter how hard he tried.

“Goddess’ many, many blessings my friend! I’m so sorry my gift caused all this trouble, come here lets wash you off in the river. Follow me.”

With a little gentle washing and some embarrassingly productive nose blowing, Link came out of the other side of this experience flustered but ultimately no worse for wear. He didn’t seem to truly be having any allergic reaction, just an adverse response to the smell and feel of the spores. Addison still looked incredibly guilty by the time the two made it back to Epona’s side.

“You know, I still think the Puffshroom could be of use as a surprise attack. Maybe you could attach one to an arrow so you aren’t in the spore’s radius?” His downtrodden expression quickly shifted to excited as he rushed back over to his pack, coming back with a small leather bag.

“Here! If you keep the Puffshrooms in this, it will keep the spores contained so it doesn’t get all over your other stuff. Then when you want to shoot one you’re only exposed to it for a second! I really think you should keep them just in case, they might help you get out of a tough situation you know.” Link sighed and smiled once again, nodding and tucking them away in a separate pocket. As Addison bid him goodbye to go put up more signs, Link urged Epona to continue their trek towards then nearest stable. He’ll find a time to use the shrooms of course, he’s just going to have to be careful he doesn’t cause himself a sneezing fit in the middle of battle. Now THAT would be an embarrassing way to go.

[chimchiri]

Doodling Harrow is a good start to get into drawing again.

She reminds me of a messy, sweaty, angry kitten.

[ofbatsandballads]

Yay! I’m so glad you take requests. Feel free to decide if you want to write this or not, it’s fine either way :)

So, I was thinking about Jason dating civilian!reader, and her coming home all disheveled and horrified. Since she knows about him being Red Hood, she can confide in him. She had just killed someone for the first time, whether it was an accident, self defense or whatever, you decide.

I was just wondering how Jason would handle this situation since usually he’s the one doing the killing.

Thank you <3

oh, this is amazing food for thought. I actually think he’d be the very best person to come to in such a situation because he has experience with killing. who’s gonna understand you better than him? literally nobody. had something similar to this in my drafts but now my mind is whirling in a whole host of directions. excellent prompt, nonnie!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include graphic depictions of violence and killing (in self defense), attempted and failed sexual assault, the aftermath of both events (reader’s in shock), hurt/comfort. this one’s got heavier subject matter so please do mind the warnings, folks. i did way too much research of the Gotham Knights map for this, but it’s my favorite depiction of the city so so be it. also reader and Jason live in the Belfry bc i said so (personal hc that i may or may not elaborate on some time). and one last thing! the romanized Arabic at the end is “حياتي ” which translates to “my life”. I love the idea that Jason picked up Arabic terms of endearment from Talia calling Bruce just about every one she could.

Jason wakes up to soft afternoon sunlight shining on his face. He grumbles out a gravelly hum and scrunches up his face in protest against being awakened when he was sleeping so nicely. He reaches out to find the comforting warmth of his beloved beside him, to pull you in and bury his face into your hair so he can hide from the morning for a bit longer.

All he finds are cold sheets and an empty pillow.

He bolts upright. Something’s wrong. You never, never wake up before him. He doesn’t even register the way that the sudden abundance of light stings his eyes. He takes stock of his surroundings, his training executing on autopilot. The open layout of the Belfry lets him get his bearings in seconds. He doesn’t see you anywhere from the bird’s eye view of your loft bedroom. There’s no smell of food in the kitchen nor any mess that would indicate you’d been working in there. The living room space, fully visible below, is empty too. The only enclosed space in your home, the bathroom that’s just around the corner from your bedroom, is dead quiet. No running water, no sweet singing, no familiar coughing from swallowed toothpaste. And without so much as leaving your bed, Jason’s already come to a conclusion that sends his heart pounding and dries his throat. You’re not here.

He’s up and grabbing the 9mm taped under your bedside table in the span of a few breaths. He moves through your home methodically, like he’s clearing one of Gotham’s criminal hideouts. There’s no sign of a struggle. Nothing’s been disturbed. He’s not surprised by this—barring Wayne Manor, the Belfry is the most secure building in Gotham. That’s precisely why Jason had moved you both here once you decided to live together. He checks the coffee table and sees that your phone and wallet are gone. A different type of fear takes over now. One that makes his heart ache. What if you’ve finally had enough, finally seen that he’s not good enough for you, not worth sticking around for? It makes him sick. He swallows hard and tries to clear the blistering thought from his head. No, that’s not you. You’re not cruel. You’re kind and gentle and loving. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. And you wouldn’t hurt him.

The sight of gears turning in his periphery catches his attention. He sees the cables pulling and the security panel go green, and he’s running to the elevator doors damn near ready to pry them open. He hastily tucks the 9mm into the waistband of his pajama pants, easily within reach if he needs it. Relief floods him when the huge metal doors grind open and he sees your pretty face on the other side. Then his heart drops when he realizes that that pretty face is scraped and splattered with blood.

Your hair is tangled and wet, dripping dirty water down your neck and staining the bright red of his your favorite hoodie. Your hands, which shake as they reach blindly towards him, are stained crimson and battered too. But it’s your eyes that haunt him. You look broken.

“Jay,” you croak out, unable to summon anything but a plea for the one person who can keep you safe.

The tears fall from your eyes at the same time that you collapse into Jason’s arms. He drags you inside and locks down the Belfry. Jason wants to panic but feels a strange sense of calm about himself. As loathe as he’d be to admit it, he finds himself falling into Bruce’s habit of assessment and action.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, voice steady and assured.

You don’t even hear him. You’re digging your hands into his shirt, clinging on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. He may very well be. He feels you going rigid and cold and he knows he has to get you stable before you descend further into shock.

“Listen to me,” he says firmly, adding on and enunciating your name for emphasis.

That sparks some semblance of lucidity. Jason hasn’t called you by your name in months, much preferring you be his baby or his sweetheart or his doll, or simply his. If it jars you back to reality, so be it.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” he demands gently.

It all pours out of you like a flood.

You’d woken up early by chance this afternoon. Normally you’d just close your eyes and snuggle closer to Jason to catch a couple more hours of sleep, but you wanted to do something nice for him. So you’d gotten up and gone to Lemay’s Flower Emporium in Gotham Heights. You’d bought him the prettiest bouquet of red and pink roses, so big that you had to hold on to it with both arms. The taxi ride from the Heights back to Coventry Station went fine. You were almost home. So close that you could see the clock tower where your heart was sleeping peacefully.

Then you stopped at Commerce Avenue Station. You just wanted to get him some pastries from the little bakery tucked away on 3rd Street that you both love. It was a decent walk; you knew that. You also knew that Jason wouldn’t want you to go out of your way by yourself. But it was morning and you were a grown woman and you could handle yourself, right? Well, that’s what you thought until a pair of hands clamped down on your shoulders and yanked you violently into a side alley.

Jason had prepared you for something like this. You’d spent countless evenings with him teaching you self defense techniques in the training area of your home. None of it mattered because the man that had you by the shoulders slammed you so hard into the brick wall that all your thoughts went hazy. Before you could regain your footing, you were shoved to the ground. The bitter sting of your palms scraping open pierced through the fog, as did the crushing weight of the vile man on top of you. Fear shot through you as the man started tugging at his belt and you realized that this wasn’t intended to be a mugging. You tried to scream but a grimy hand clamped over your mouth, hitting your head against the ground and soaking your hair in dirty rain water and blood.

Your eyes darted around in search of someone—anyone. But no one was coming. You felt fingernails scratch against your stomach as clammy hands curled into the waistband of your sweatpants and suddenly you saw your savior. A brick from the damaged alleyway laid within reach. You didn’t even think when you grabbed it, when you swung it as hard as you could into the side of the man’s head. The corner hit his temple and he crumbled to the side. You rose to your knees and hit the man again. And again. All you could remember were Jason’s firm instructions: if someone makes it a choice of you or them, you make sure that it’s you no matter what it takes.

“I don’t r-remember anything else,” you sob into his chest. “There was so much blood, Jason. And his head—oh, God.”

Jason shushes you gently. He holds you tight in his arms like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even slightly, you’ll fade away on him.

“Don’t think about it, baby. You did what you needed to do. You protected yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

“I killed someone, Jason. I killed someone.”

You look at him wide eyed—afraid, horrified, guilty. No. Jason won’t have that. You will not feel guilty over some lowlife scumbag who wanted to hurt you, who probably would have killed you. Jason can’t even stomach the thought. He wants to put a bullet into whatever’s left of that predator’s head. No, the only shame in you killing that man is that you got to him before Jason could.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says, repeats your name again for emphasis. “You. Did. Nothing. Wrong.”

“Someone’s dead because of me, Jay,” you argue, gripping him tighter as your panic rises.

“Baby, do you know how many people are dead because of me?” he asks. “Far, far more than I’d ever want you to know. Do you think I’m a monster, honey? That I did something wrong?”

He knows it’s an apples to oranges comparison. But you’ve used this same tactic on him so many times that he also knows it’s effective. Every time he demeans himself for something, you ask if he’d treat you the way he treats himself for the same thing. The answer is always no.

“No!” you reply emphatically. “You protect people. You do it to keep people safe.”

“You did it to keep yourself safe.”

“But—”

“No buts. Or ifs. No ands, either, just in case you get any ideas,” he says lightly, brushing a speck of blood off your cheekbone.

You smile at his stupid little comment and he feels the tension in his body release just slightly. As long as there’s light back in your eyes for even a moment, he knows that you’ll be okay. He picks you up, lets you cling your arms around his neck and bury your face in his chest as he carries you to the bathroom upstairs. He runs you a bath and, after asking repeatedly if you were okay with it, undresses you and washes the blood and grime from your body. He wraps you in a big fluffy towel, dries and brushes your hair, and tends to your injuries before he bundles you up in his comfiest hoodie and pajama pants. He soothes you when your tears make their return and never leaves your line of sight because he knows he makes you feel safe.

The thought gnaws at him throughout the day. It outright scalds him as he lies in bed with you after deciding to skip patrol. He’s failed you. Failed to protect you, failed to ensure nothing harms a hair on your head. He’s failed at taking care of you, the one thing that matters more to him than anything else. He’s seconds away from spiraling into self hatred when your sweet voice comes calling, soft and pleading.

“Jay…please stay with me,” you say softly.

Your eyes are clear and focused again. You squeeze his waist tight where your arms are wrapped around him, like you’re physically trying to anchor him in place in your bed. The look on your face says that you know exactly where his mind was headed. You see right through him. It makes him feel more vulnerable than anything else, and it surprises him how much he loves the feeling. And Jason, as always and for eternity, can’t bring himself to deny you. So he pulls himself together and shoves all his self loathing down. He can deal with it later—you need him more right now.

“I’m right here, hayati. Not goin’ anywhere, I promise.”

He kisses you gently and feels some of that self hatred wash away when you chase after him for more goodnight kisses. He feels it dissipate even more when you fall asleep in his arms with a soft smile on your face. It’s all but forgotten as he drifts off too, safe in the knowledge that you’re here with him, that he can feel your heart beating pressed tight against his own.

[blindmagdalena]

I’m so sorry Amy this is NASTY but from the moment I saw the chest fuzz on HL my first thought was how sensitive it would make the nips when fucking cause of the texture

18+ homelander x reader. boob stuff, body hair appreciation, overstimulation, flying sex, cream pie. never apologize to me i will always make it nastier. 🖤

At first the brush of it is divine. It wrings a gasp from low in the back of your throat, has you kneading the taut muscles of his back while he pounds into you. Homelander's body hair isn't overly coarse, but it hardly matters when his chest is pressed flush to yours, his lips on your throat.

You feel his every huff and whimper more than you hear them. They pair perfectly with the desperate grip he has on your hips, holding you in place with his whole body as he fucks you against the ceiling.

Now the grind of his chest against yours is beginning to take a toll. You shiver with his every move, growing more and more tender with the friction. Your cunt quivers tight around his cock and he stifles a hot moan into the crook of your neck.

His cock, more thick than long and nicely curved, strokes that sweet spot inside you that strikes stars behind your eyelids with every snap of his hips. You fist your hand in his hair and pull until his lips meet yours.

"Fuck," he gasps against your lips, threads of saliva snapping between your hungry mouths. "You drive me fucking crazy."

"Don't blame me for that," you respond breathlessly, licking right back into his mouth. "You were there when I got here."

He grins, giving a ravenous little growl and a sharp thrust. "Fine. Crazier."

The two of you climax like that, entwined and floating high off the ground, your ascension halted only by the height of the ceiling. Only once the aftershocks fade out does Homelander begin to sink back down to the bed. You feel as if you're in the clouds, floating on euphoria and his warm, soft body.

Still trembling, you lift yourself up. This is how you had started; astride him, riding him until the wild bucks of his hips had lifted you both up, up, up.

You smooth your hands down your own chest, goosebumps erupting everywhere. You give his pec a slap, the thwap of it dulled by the padding of hair. "You rug burned my whole chest," you chastise, though your tone is colored by your smile.

He sucks in a breath, contemplating the condition of your skin as he blows out a raspberry. He cups your breasts in gentle hands and pushes them together and up, meeting the pearl-soft flesh of them with his lips. He kisses apologies all over each one, flicking his tongue over your nipples for the way you gasp and tug his hair when he does.

His spent cock, still buried deep inside you, throbs valiantly as he sucks one breast into his mouth, tonguing your nipple in slow circles. You shudder and grind down in retaliation, the both of you hyper-sensitive, moving leisurely against one another as your satiation passes and the need for more grows.

You ride him slow and deep until he comes again. You rub your clit to the feel of his mouth on your chest and his come dripping out of you until you, too, orgasm, the tight spasm of your cunt reducing the most powerful man in the world to a simpering mess between your thighs.

The two of you untangle your limbs only to jigsaw right back together, his back to your sensitive chest, your arms around him, fingers scratching through the very hair you complained about.

"I could start waxing again," he says, words lazily slurring together.

"Don't you dare," you murmur, nuzzling the spot just behind his ear, kissing the shell of it. He interlaces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand to his chest. "You're perfect as is."

You don't need to see him to know he's smiling. You feel it in the slant of his lips when he presses the back of your hand to them.

[sinsydia]

Your art makes me really motivated to continue drawing — was in but of a slump but looking through your page and anatomy skills made me wanna be better and improve <3 ty for being u

YES PLEASE CONTINUE! whenever im in a slump i just do anatomy studies. Or whatever i think i need work on! Please reach out to me if you ever want to talk about art!

Also im glad my drawings have motivated you to draw! Thats freaking awesome. 🖤🖤🖤 your little anon message helped motivate me to draw too!

[yutamayo]

[cartoonartistpng]

I was playing around in Incorrect Quotes Generator and got this gem:

Silver and Sonic in the back of Shadow’s car: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!

Mephiles: We have food at home!

Shadow: (pulls into the McDonalds)

Silver and Sonic: WHOO!

Shadow: (Orders one black coffee and leaves)

Incorrect quotes 7

[teaandjumpers]

I saw your KCD gifset reposts and 👁️ out of curiosity, would you ever consider doing a Regency/Medievel Obikin AU? If so, would they both be knights, or would one be a royal and the other their knight? Thoughts in general?

I really wish you hadn't asked me that, anon!

- - - -

Obikin Medieval AU

When they had been presented to the lord, each knight kneeling before him, Anakin nervously clutched the hilt of his blade with sweaty palms. 

This was Lord Kenobi, one of the most renowned knights in the kingdom, the man he grew up hearing stories about, the man who, through many great deeds, was granted a title, a castle, and vast, farmable lands.

Anakin had watched the man upon his approach, the lord sitting on his high chair in his great hall, a warm smile on his face as he greeted Anakin and his fellow knights. 

He was every bit as handsome as the tapestries hanging in his liege lord’s halls made him out to be. Broad chested, a thick head of hair, and wide, capable hands that he drew across his mouth as he laughed easily at his companion’s words. 

To his great horror, in his blind admiration of the man from where he knelt, Anakin’s sword slipped from his hands, the metal blade clattering loudly on the stone floor and landing several feet ahead of him. 

He scrambled across the floor to grab his blade, but before he could reclaim it, a pair of legs appeared in his line of sight, and a crisp, lilting voice rang out in the hall. 

“Is this our great, fearless knight?” the voice teased.

Slowly, Anakin lifted his gaze to find his childhood idol regarding him with a small smile. Forgetting his place, forgetting everything around him, Anakin just stared up at the man dumbly. 

The lord’s smile broadened, and he knelt in front of Anakin, picking up his sword and handing it back it to the younger man. 

“Hardly looks old enough to hold a blade,” said Lord Kenobi, his voice still teasing, but only loud enough for Anakin to hear. 

During the feast, Anakin was gifted the seat of honor, sitting beside Lord Kenobi for the duration of the meal. Anakin, too nervous to share stories of his own, listened like a lovelorn pup as Lord Kenobi regaled him with his countless adventures, all of them good deeds. Anakin could picture them all with great clarity, the great knight, bathed in the sun’s glowing light, brandishing his righteous blade as he tore down the king’s many foes. 

He felt flushed all night, and Anakin was certain that his face was red, not from the warmth of the fire that crackled just behind them, but Lord Kenobi, who leaned in close each time he spoke, his sultry voice hypnotic, his breath cooling the slick of sweat coating Anakin’s neck. 

Sir Kenobi always looked larger than life in those wall-to-ceiling tapestries, and even though his height may have been exaggerated ever so slightly, he was still big. Even in his layered, fine clothes, his chest looked wide, sturdy, and on several occasions, Anakin had to wipe his mouth to make sure he wasn’t drooling.

For a moment, Anakin was grateful that Lord Kenobi was not his lord, as he was certain he would be too enamored by the man’s body, face, voice to be able to recall any notes of import during campaigns.

It was embarrassing. He was the guest of honor, and he had bumbled his way through dinner, taking a bite of bread before the lord had picked up his spoon, spilling wine down his chin, and repeatedly wiping at the sweat that kept gathering at the back of his neck. 

Later, when the drunken men had been dragged off to a corner, and the servants had cleared the long table, Anakin sought out the lord, wanting, needing to make a better impression. 

He found Lord Kenobi in a small drawing room, the man sitting on a tall chair, gazing into a robust fire. 

Anakin had tried to be quiet, wanting to watch the man in secret, but the lord, once a former knight, the most renowned in all the lands, heard his approach.

“You drag your feet, Sir Skywalker,” the man said without turning from his seat.

“Come, come,” he said, standing suddenly and offering his chair to Anakin as he grabbed a stool and perched atop it.  

Somehow, the man managed to look every bit as dignified on the plain wooden seat as he did in his regal chair. 

Anakin sat down tentatively, sitting on the edge of the chair, not entirely comfortable with their positions. This was Sir Kenobi. He should be at this man’s feet offering his fealty, his sword, and a poem if he had the talent to craft one. 

“Couldn’t sleep, young knight?” the man asked, smiling that same knowing smile from earlier.

Though he willed it not to, Anakin felt his member plumping, and he swallowed thickly before responding. “N—no, my Lord,” he stuttered. 

“Perhaps a companion would help?” offered the lord. “You seemed a little distracted during our meal, but you were not short of admirers.”

“Oh?” asked Anakin, his mind sluggish.

The lord hummed. “You had several offers in fact. Unsurprising, of course,” said the man, his eyes raking across Anakin’s frame. 

And that made something within Anakin break. He stood with enough force that his heavy seat wobbled. 

Lord Kenobi blinked at him with surprise. “Sir Skywalker, what—?”

Anakin dropped to his knees and crawled towards the other man. He kept his head bowed as he spoke, his words rushed. “I know you’re not my liege lord, but—”

And Anakin did glance up then, locking eyes with the older man before letting his gaze drift lower, settling on the wide part of the lord’s legs. “I wish to serve you. In whatever way you see fit.”

[j3lly-fish]

NEED that moth set from your wips .. ideally w a deaths head swatch but im not picky 🙏

Seems like a lot of people are liking the moth set! I'm glad!

It is a much older mesh from awhile ago tho so there's a lot of flaws in it that could be redone, so I'll probably try and get back to it given the interest!

The initial mesh was made with a luna moth in mind, so in terms of wings, its what I went for. I do really love your suggestion, so I'm thinking of making more wing options and have it be bigger set!

⚠ Insect images under the cut ⚠

Luna Moth could be its own wingset, while rosy maples, death head, emperors and silks could be swatches from its own wingset, given they have relatively similar wing shapes!

And of course, my ass would make a wingset for atlas moths cause they're my babygirls and I love them

Maybe I'm dreaming big, but lemme know what you guys think. I really love moths so this would turn into a passion project really quickly LOL

[minty-furry-bee]

🍭🦈 I haven't drawn Mizu in SUCH a long time~! But a bit ago, an anon inspired me with these simple but kind words, and for that I thank them so much :)

[jellazticious]

You seem to be quite the Pepperman enjoyer, can you explain why ?

He reminds me way too much of myself

I'm an obsessed artist, my art is my entire life and without it, no one will ever know I existed. I have an ego problem an I'll get full of myself if allowed, frankly a fantastic negative trait sksksk. Overbites that always exposed the teeth and gums. I'm pretty much the weirdest fucking kid my grade school has ever seen, never had a real friend until later when I was turning 18, I guess it could be a parallel to Phil with him being one of the most underrated characters. People tend to think I'm way taller than I am cuz of my BOOMING personality. I'm very attracted and dating a hot baddie that can cook 😤😤😤 Yknow most of my headcanons for him are hella projectey. And the fun part is so far, no one could tell until I say anything

Most of these reasons are a little self absorbed too

But it's just another reason is it not?

He did so much for me and he's just another drawing. Sometimes you just need to be needlessly obsessed with yourself or what you do, what anyone else say doesn't matter. He whispered in my ear that I am a work of art and art will forever be beautiful in the world regardless of what I do, you too are already a work of art, it's only up to you to acknowledge it

I like him very much, you could learn a thing or two from him. Please draw canon Pepperman, I can't be the only one carrying his fanclub

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

https://www.tumblr.com/twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat/763488708451352576/kitsunegeto-is-heavy-on-the-mind-today-but-not-in?source=share

Hi, I am here to fuel this more,, PLSPLSPLS FEED ME, ANYTHING, ANYTHING U HAVE🤲🏻

your wish is my command 🙂‍↕️ (THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME THANK YOU THANK YOU)

okay so . kitsune!geto is very much my most deranged sugu in the way he views the reader . his love is very very strange and also blurred between the lines and a lot of this stems from the way suguru is, but most of it stems from the fact that kitsune!geto is . (sort of (we’ll get into that)) a God. and with his character i really want to capture allll the fucked up aspects of godhood and a relation between a god and a human :3c basically, the power dynamic goes crazy . freudian dynamic goes crazy. i had a vision of him referring to you as ’my child’ because he’s this older, infinitely greater being and in his eyes you might as well be a fawn . he sees himself as your benefactor . but also you as his loyal devotee. but then he also very much sees you as his soulmate in a traditional sense — he believes you were born for him, made for him, in every single way.

….. so really he’s just kinda twisted. kitsune!geto also happens to have a very ambivalent and strange dynamic with his own god, who is sort of like a mother/mentor figure but then he also kind of suspects you’re a reincarnation of her (you are Not) so it’s just strange all around. above all else, you’re his beloved — that just isn’t a very good thing to be .

[achilles-rage]

I came out from the caves cause a feral Eddie thought pop out.

I read your nsfw alphabet before and remembered the bit about sundresses and I could not agree more.

I imagine, on a hot summer day, both of you are at home cause he has a day off and Chris is staying with his cousin. Since it was so hot, you decided to wear a sundress. You didn't have thoughts about it at all, but Eddie has so many, many thoughts.

The moment he comes into the house and sees you in said sundress, his brain shorts circuit cause you looked so good and pretty. And his brain is full of goon thoughts that he had to take a minute to breathe.

You call him out several times before he notices. You ask him what's wrong and all he can muster is nothing and looking away from you, trying to take a breather. You ask him what was the dinner plan for tonight, and all he could think of was kissing you and doing filthy, filthy things to you on the floor right then and there. He's also probably a little bit over the edge because he has been busy picking up extra shifts and all.

Let's just say once he got the chance to kiss you, he wasn't about to let go. the innocent kisses turned hot and heavy in a minute and he's out here bending and munching you out of that sundress.

I love down bad loser Eddie. A girl can dream right? Anyways, thank you very much for your time. I will now go back into the cave once more. Will see y'all when I see y'all.

goddamn🫦

down bad loser eddie my beloved<3333

he fucking loves sundresses and cannot get enough of his partner in them!! he feels so bad too because you’re so unaware of what you’re doing to him, and he tries so hard to hide the tent in his pants.

when he finally snaps, it’s because you’re making lunch or something, and you’re trying to reach up for something on the top shelf and he’s staring at your ass and his mouth is watering. he’s behind you in a second, yanking your dress up and dropping to his knees to pull your panties to the side and taste your sweetness.

when he’s pulled a few orgasms from you using his tongue and his fingers, he’ll finally take his rock hard cock out of his pants and drag the tip up and down your folds before pushing himself in completely in one swift thrust.

he makes you keep your dress on the whole time, too; he loves to see it bunched up around your waist as he pounds into you. and maybe he’ll also pull the top of your dress down so your tits spill out, letting him touch and squeeze them to his heart’s content<3

[nicodefresas]

usernames for the name 'bonnie'??

bonniesday oh_dearbonni sugar-bonni3k

bonnie-diqital archivebonn virtualbonnie

diarybybonn bonnies-website angelbonnie

july-bonnie bonn_bonie deliqatebonnie

2007bonn happy-bonns bonniesfolder

sweet-bonibelle ghostbonnies go-bonniego

[the-rouxls-kaard-official]

*sends him fanmail (present boxes with big frilly bows that are filled to the brim with slimy, filthy worms, the moisture leaching through the bottom and causing the cardboard to sag)*