#though it was hard to write this

[nicgoldomens]

The Metatron sat across from him and spoke kindly, softly and persuasively. Aziraphale found it hard to keep his focus, listening to the words spoken by the chosen Voice of the Almighty. The words repeated to him over and over like a prayer

" I told you he doesn't love you Aziraphale. I told you he would never come with you. He despises angels. I'm sorry you have been used and manipulated by this evil demon calling himself Crowley, but believe me it gives me no pleasure to tell you the truth of it. He doesn't love you, he never did, he has no capacity for love. "

The Metatron's voice sounds soothing and musical as he continues to speak, no matter how cruel and devastating what he says is to Aziraphale. Aziraphale stares ahead at an unseen spot past the Metatron's head and squeezes his fingernails into his palms to stop the tears from flowing. He mustn't show any sign of feeling but it's so hard to keep control. Could it be true, what he is saying? How could it be? He thinks of yellow eyes and soft snarly lips but the Metatron is still talking softly, rythmically

" I told you he doesn't love you Aziraphale. I told you he would never come with you. I'm so sorry but as I showed you, the footage we reviewed proves this demon, Crowley, has used you for 6000 years. Yes, I'm afraid to say right from the moment you met he decided for his own amusement to take advantage of you and garner favour with Satan. He saw your weakness when you gave away the flaming sword and knew he had an angel he could turn from God! Turn away from us, your Heavenly family. Now don't cry Aziraphale, the truth may hurt but you need to hear it. Crowley doesn't love you, he never did. He was laughing at you all this time, I really am truly sorry. I know how deeply you loved him, but it was all a lie, a ruse performed for Satan's entertainment. Listen to my words Aziraphale"

The Metatron's voice was even softer and his eyes connected finally with Aziraphale's own as he glanced upwards but could no longer stop the tears from falling. Could it be true? How could this be true? He gripped his head with his hands and closed his eyes, trying to block out the Metatron's voice. He thought of holding Crowley's hand, the softness and suppleness of Crowley's fingers, he remembered dancing with him in the bookshop. The Metatron appeared to sense his renewed calm and continued with words which now dripped like poison

" I told you he doesn't love you Aziraphale, I told you he would never come with you. It pains me terribly to say this, but why would Crowley love you, why for that matter would anyone love you? You are a failure and a disappointment to everyone who has tried to help and guide you. You are lucky that in our infinite mercy Heaven does still have a place for you so be cheered by that. But you must admit your mistakes, confess your wrongdoing and accept that this demon whom you have held so dear to your heart, was in fact empty of light and goodness all along. Your 'friendship' was never real and he does not love you. Crowley never loved you Aziraphale, he never will."

Aziraphale listens to these words, which have been spoken to him day in, day out ever since he returned to Heaven. He clenches his eyes shut and imagines Crowley's face in front of him. He wraps his arms around himself in a hug and rocks gently whilst the Metatron watches. Aziraphale begins to mutter under his breath, then louder and stronger

"He does love me he does love me he does love me he does love me he does love me!"

Aziraphale smiles, his eyes still closed and presses his fingers to his lips. He can still feel the fierce pressure of Crowley's lips on his and the exquisite taste of the tip of his tongue on his own tongue. The Metatron sighs angrily and walks to the door.

" Well Aziraphale, we'll talk again tomorrow. I know you will be made to understand eventually, we have all of eternity to convince you"

He waits until he hears the Metatron lock the cell door and walk away, footsteps echoing in the cold emptiness. Then Aziraphale whispers

"Crowley will be here tomorrow. That was the plan. He loves me and he's coming for me. He would never leave me on my own"

[heartorbit]

MWAH!

[citrenecult]

Drew the Lamb, Narinder, and the Follower Bishops.

Some close ups.

[bluerosefox]

Stellar Collisions

Back at it again with a DPxDC prompt.

It does have deaged Dani (Ellie)

Only this time its KonxDanny idea!~

Supernova, Kon's new hero name since Jon took over the Superboy name now, wasn't expecting to be called out to... especially in the sky... by another floating/flying person and-

WOW

They were cute as heck.

Glowing green eyes, and white hair, a bit shorter than him. He was floating in the air with a soft glow around himself as well.

And he was holding a white haired, very similar looking toddler in his arms, only the toddler had longer hair that was tied in pigtails. And the toddler was staring at Kon with large, almost sparkling eyes.

The young man, around Kon's age if he guessed, smiled and floated a bit closer, his face friendly and warm. When the young man stopped he kindly asked "Hey, would it be any trouble for you to autograph something for my daughter? She's a huge fan!"

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[sunlit-mess]

slides this and runs

[rupeenotruby]

That was long. Keeping this short. Not sure about this one. Thank you to @/runecatwrites for this [Click] analysis post as it was pretty helpful for the Wild and Wars dialogue (though I think the analysis is better).

[benevolenterrancy]

Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

[starscream-is-my-wife]

This is part 1 of a continuation for my other post where LL Megatron gets trapped in the G1 universe, I was thinking about how someone would go insane in this cartoon world and thought "what if Megatron had someone else to accompany him" so, I gave Starscream an existential crisis

Edit: pt 2 here

[lucky-fy]

For the Laicion nation (aka, me and three other people)

I had this illustration commissioned (a big thank you to @lunehowls) for my werewolf AU Laicion fic (still a WIP).

The general pitch is as follows :

AU in which Laios never got to meet his sister again, putting his life on a whole other path, a more desperate one. A military deserter with barely a coin to his name, Laios hitches a ride on a boat to one of the elven continents, where he learns about magical tattoos that binds one’s soul to a wolf’s, effectively making them artificial werewolves. Illegal magic be damned, this feels like the answer to… everything.

In the process, he learns about the existence of an illegal fighting ring in one of the elven cities, where beastmen gladiators gather. Freshly tattooed and without anywhere else to go to, Laios decides to head there, where he meets Lycion, an elf and artificial werewolf gladiator. If they first bond over a simple shared meal, by spending time together (sharing the same room in the barracks, maybe the same bed? gasp) they find that they have a lot in common, notably a shared distaste for the body they were born in, a dysphoria partially remedied by becoming a werewolf.

They bond :)

NB: I commissioned another piece, go take a look :D

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[dootznbootz]

Thinking about how Telemachus has heard "You are just like your father" by so many people for most of his life. How different yet refreshing it is to hear said father tell him warmly "You're so much like your mother".

[housecow]

i have knee problems stemming from an injury when i was younger. if i step wrong and fall in a certain way, the pain is so bad i can’t walk. but sometimes i like to fantasize: what if something even worse happens and i can’t walk for weeks? what if i happen to be in regular close contact with my feeder?

it’d be hard being told i have rest and let myself heal. there are plans coming up that have to be cancelled, the few active hobbies i have left take a hit. but…it’s so easy to accept every snack brought to me. after all, i sought out a feeder—this lifestyle is the one i’ve eaten myself towards. and he knows i have an inclination towards eating too much. that first week goes easier than it should; weight starts to pile on. but i miss going out, even running errands sounds nice. in the few moments my hands are absent of food or a shake i am regularly in contact with my friends.

the next week i’m better but… i feel slow. my feeder has started to keep people away because i need to rest and he’s right, healing is taxing on the body. i start responding less to others, too. our funnel has gotten so much more use in the last few days. the sugar and constant snacks step up and i can tell there is an agenda behind it all but *god* it feels good to be doted on. he helps me through the necessary exercises but trips across the house are rare. i notice how difficult it is to lift myself up now—how sedentary have i been?

that question doesn’t cross my mind again, there are better things to focus on. my feeder knows how to use my adhd to his advantage—food, sex, TV, and games all provide the dopamine hit needed to keep me distracted. the 3rd week is similar enough to the 2nd: ritualistic feeding becomes the norm. we don’t need a valve to control the flow on the funnel anymore, he knows i can finish everything. my belly is swollen out into my lap all of the time now, if i hold my boobs aside i can see new stretch marks creeping across my expanding hips. i expect the snacks, “babe, can you grab me something from the fridge?” is a phrase heard several times in the day. and my feeder obliges.

the 4th week we have an appointment and im told i should walk and start being active again. the doctor looks nervous though and tells me i need to watch my weight, he says something like “its alarming how quickly this happened,” but i blocked it out because—i can’t even see how much i weigh? my belly blocks the view now. oh my god.

in the car afterwards my feeder expresses doubt at the situation: “you don’t look so steady on your feet, i think you should still take it easy.” his eyes meet mine and i don’t miss the brief glance away, desire obvious at the sight of my rounded figure that’s entirely his fault. i know what he wants and i can’t deny myself that want, either. and he knows better in these situations, i trust his judgement. maybe it is best to stay in. plans can be pushed further back… the walk back to the car was a little difficult, too.

the next weeks—or does it span months?—pass in a blur. staying in is all i want to do. although i’m supposedly healthy again, i rarely get up and walk around more than needed. “needed” means a slow, clumsy walk to the fridge and back to either the couch or the bed. when my feeder is not there to feed me himself he takes time to order food to the door. bending down to pick things up is a monumental effort for me—a heavy, wide belly pressing into my fattened thighs. my swollen tits obscure my vision but serve as an excellent table when i need.

my feeder comes home one day and im asleep, taking up more than my fair share of the couch. my breaths are not easy and its obvious how much i ate beforehand: mostly-empty 2 liters, takeout containers haphazardly stacked on top of one another as they were finished, countless snack packages balled up and stuck between the couch cushions because sometimes i like to squirrel stuff away. as if there was a chance of hiding these habits my feeder built.

but the best part of it all is the empty pitcher sat against the corner of the couch, because i couldn’t reach to the coffee table to properly set it down with so much fat making every movement difficult.

the remnants a weight gain shake. our usual ingredients of cake mix, melted ice cream, strawberries, chocolate syrup, nutella, crushed oreos. it was hastily made, however, and it’s obvious by the chocolatey powder on the sides of the container that it was about the calories this time, not the taste. he can see where some escaped the pitcher and poured down my overly plump, round face and past the lovingly cultivated double chin. it dripped onto my breasts, lovely puddles of calories he wish made it inside of me even if the sight is wonderful. after that thought, an idea comes up. how deep are the rolls he’s gifted me? a cow this size needs to be used.

[bluerosefox]

Drake Siblings

Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.

What if, now hear me out.

What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)

What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)

Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.

So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.

A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.

Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-

But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"

Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.

[nondelphic]

starting a new project is basically committing to one of two equally chaotic paths. you either:

a) spend weeks meticulously outlining every plot point, character arc, and worldbuilding detail, only to abandon it halfway through because the vibes took you somewhere else entirely, OR

b) you raw-dog the whole thing, trusting your brain to 'figure it out,' and end up with a draft that’s half literary brilliance and half 'what the hell did i mean by this note that just says "cows are symbolic."'

either way, you're writing by the seat of your pants, but one path comes with a fancy map you’ll never actually use.