#wing hug

[space-salaman]

Wing Hug! 🐲 Cool thing daggos could do! Char belongs to @eyeseedee !

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[julunis14]

Three frens!

(I drew this when the first leaks appeared, I genuinely thought that Pipp will be the main princess/pony xD)

[aero-doodles]

Sisterly Bonding

Felt like drawing more pony stuff, here we have my rendtion of Celestia and Nightmare Moon enjoying some sisterly bonding with a rump bump.  Be careful, those wrecking balls can bend steel.  This is both a gift for a bud as well as something for me, enjoy!

Posted using PostyBirb

[watermelonsverything]

Wings Of Fire - Book One scene

[triona-tribblescore]

Nightly mandatory fluffy Huskerdust doodle 😤🧡

Kneading and a massage~

[shepscapades]

[dbhc flavored] Hermit a Day May: Day 20 — Gem!

[thegracefallen]

🫂 LET HER HUG HER DAD

The hug took him by surprise but Castiel soon raised his arms to return it. Unfolding his wings, he wrapped them around the nephilim, shielding her from the world, if only for a moment.

[timmydraker]

CW: amputation

Tim was born with wings.

There were tiny at first, so small the doctors didn’t even notice. It was after a few months the little nubs became visible and as soon as they noticed, that was it. They were growing.

By two years old they were three times his size and he wasn’t allowed to leave the house. His parents own a medical company yet they couldn’t figure out how the hell such a deformity could ever exist. They hired very specific doctors to help them and forced them to sign NDA’s, though even if they did people would probably just think it was usual Gotham horse shit.

So, they cut them off.

At two years old his wings were removed and shut away in a box in the basement and after that, Tim Drake stopped being the happy little boy he was. His second year of life was spent in agony as the wounds healed and he learnt to walk again without the normal weight, and that slight discomfort and phantom pain didn’t leave even after he met Batman.

It got worse when he became Robin and knew he was hiding his two disgusting humerus bone nubs left protruding his middle back.

He manages to keep it hidden for several years, but it’s when he’s newly seventeen that he gets hit too bad. A grenade he managed to dodge the explosion from, but that knocked him off a roof and onto a railing.

It’s agony as he lands on his left and feels his ribs shatter and snap, but luckily he passes out and doesn’t feel much of it.

Unfortunately, that also means he can’t insist on doing his own medical assessment like he usually does and Alfred and Dick do it themself.

Alfred notices first and freezes, which makes Dick come over to see.

Neither of them have the chance to hide it from Bruce who surpassingly accepts it quickly and is instead crushed that his son didn’t trust him with such a vital part of he he is.

Tim tells them the real story when he wakes and admits that’s why he didn’t take his parents house after they died and just left it vacant, so he wouldn’t have to accidentally find the bones of his lost life.

When Jason and Dick go with him, Damian as well though he tries to say it’s because he’s bored when really he doesn’t want to be left out on his brothers new chapter.

As requested, Jason goes to find the box for him and he finds it after an hour of looking, only… the wings haven’t decayed.

They’re also moving.

[kidokear]

I forgot how to render! :'D Still went with complicated lighting anyway. (。・ω・。)

Gabriel is kneeling by the way. (￣y▽￣)╭

[stefisdoingthings]

don't look (please do)

[orionshounds]

Just frame the halves, and call them brothers find your fathers, and your mothers, if you remember, who they are

I can't stop thinking about the moment Clay found out he was a Bigwings. He spent his whole life thinking there was some sort of monster inside him, that one day he would snap and hurt even those closest to him, but it was never true. Pure love has been in his bones since the moment he hatched, only now can he believe it

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Tim *on his 68th hour of no sleep trying to finish the cases he stole from the cave after being banished to titans tower because of red hood, fully believing he's all alone there*: ok but what if we blow up the tower, fake our deaths, and take a 3 week vacation? Way more effective than just sending me here and hope for the best with the unhinged murderer fixated on me.

YJ *worried about their team leader and annoyed at their mentors, actually considering*: sure, why not?

Bart: I'll go get the explosives.

Kon: but how will they know we died here?

Tim *fully invested now*: the cameras don't have audio, we have a bunch of our blood and we can drop a bag of our teeth plus some kryptonite to make it convincing.

Kon *shrugs*: close enough.

[julunis14]

Another fav commission of mine! Furry boyfriends!

[bugisbonkerz]

giving my homemade red guy body dysmorphia at buffalo wild wings™

[polubrony]

Some angsy stuff with the girls (with Emily after the fall)

This one was lying in my folder as a sketch for a long time and now it is done

(Next few art gonna be regular chaggie fluff though)

[chucapybara]

alright arlecchino hopping around in my head still so soft mornings with your darling knave!

oh, arlecchino being so utterly enamoured with you. she tends to wake up earlier than you do; a harbinger has many things to go about doing in a day, after all, and being one who manages the affairs of different house of the hearths across teyvat, it's no easy feat.

but on the off days, after a long night of making love to you, she finds herself trapped in your orbit, unable to escape. (not that she'd ever want to.) your soft, radiantly divine figure rests curled beside her, your breath tickling her cheek, and she loves it.

in the respite that comes, in this calm between the noise of her nightmares and of her day work, she finds that all the world is still when you are. an absence of howling, the absence of shades are substituted, if only for those few moments, with the gentle sunbeam that kisses your skin.

(she wishes she were the sun, for a brief time. oh, how her blood almost boils with envy for that heavenly star which gets to kiss you every morning before she does; and were it not for the fact that she loathed to wake you in such peaceful sleep, she may have done so already.)

arlecchino shifts, resting her head on her arm, facing you, observing every rise and fall of your unrobed shoulders, chest. her mind is quiet, silenced, lacking of any other thought except for you.

you, who is so precious to her, that she would rend heaven upon earth and bring down cities and crowns in your name if you asked her to. she who would raise armies and queendoms worshipping you—if she did not already dislike the thought of sharing you with another. (the notion of others gazing upon you with reverence to match hers is preposterous in its nature, so she strangles the thought in its crib.)

as she ponders her prayers for you, she notes how the blanket of your shared bed has dipped below your waist. arlecchino almost has the mind to tuck you back in, to preserve your comfort—all the more when she catches how you shiver, ever so slightly, when exposed to the naked air—but she realises doing so may only wake you.

and so she unfurls her wing of balemoon bloodfire, its crimson feathers catching the sun's rays, illuminating it as sunsets are wont to do. she drapes it over you in replacement for the blanket, mentally chiding it for doing a poor job at keeping you warm.

though, perhaps, this in and of itself was a blessing, too.

your expression eases, and so too does arlecchino's scarlet-eyed gaze soften. her wing rests soothingly around you, almost ticklish, exuding the hearthfire's homely coziness.

and it is this same ticklish sensation that rouses you, slow, steady. your lips part in a yawn, and you peek open a bleary eye, finding your sweet one already long having been observing you. your soul sings.

"good morning, lover," arlecchino murmurs fondly, pressing close. now that you're awake, she has no reservations about pulling you close. she loops an arm around your back, blackened hands ever gentle, ever soft.

you smile, still half-asleep, but savouring the affection. your own palm finds its way to arlecchino's spine, tracing delicately up and down, making your darling knave shiver.

(oh, how weak she finds herself at your touch. let all other things to which she be impenetrable, but for you, she spares a key.)

arlecchino is strong, and it shows in the grooves of her muscled form, tensing in the wake of your drowsed touch. she is especially vulnerable in the space just beside her wing, where you pay special attention, massaging lightly there and leaving tender brushes of your lips. fluttering kisses, with all the softness of rainbow rose petals on the gentle wind.

"morning, arle," you mumble in a wispy breath. you graze your fingertips some along the curve of her side, to the cursed ink on her arm (that is no more a curse than it is a part of the woman you love), tracing them as though you didn't already have every inch of arlecchino mapped out in your memory.

your eyes flutter closed, and your hand goes still, relaxed now on arlecchino's back once more as you are quickly returned to sleep's embrace—arlecchino cradling you, bloodfire wing secured around your form.

but this time, sleep itself has no choice but to share you with her.

all the time in the world could not compare to these tender, infinitisemal moments—your limbs tangled like vines, hair strewn across the pillows upon the bed that is only both yours to own, with you in her arms.

arlecchino's lips draw forth like a magnet, pressing tender kisses along your brow. "rest well, my dove."

and when she speaks, she hopes her faithful prayer follows you into your conscious, to warm your heart and remind you always of the devotion only your sweet knave holds, just for you. only for you.