#yes to all of this anon

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Injecting you with thoughts 👉😌)))

What if Jonathan injected his lover with the fear toxin, just a tiny drop to help them build immunity

And it turns out that they're terribly afraid of losing him, specifically

They cling to him hours after the toxin's worn off

The thought is eating me alive

Jon watching their expression change

sweat beads on their forehead

the shiver

all his normal

but then

they cry "don't leave me"

"I can't live without you Scarecrow"

.....without me? he thinks

he stops

puts down the syringe

holds them tight as if out of instinct

and their grip is so tense

no more toxin tonight

[qiinamii]

new guy in the Express

bonus:

adding more to the whimsy

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[devotion-disorder]

Hey devo... when you draw, do you make a draft? Or just fuck it and straight up line it and fix it as you go?

hmmmm both?? i definitely start with a draft always, but on rare occasions it is clean enough that i can go straight into rendering. im bad at explaining so i'll use pictures:

to be 100% real basically the details that i can't be bothered to line clearly i just leave to the coloring/rendering to tidy at the end LOL

but yea a lot of times i'll just combine everything into a single layer and refine everything as i go, so the finished product might look a lot different than when i started haha

[frownyalfred]

Not an abo au imagine the suit specially protecting Bruce’s abdomen and thats how they find out that bruce is pregnant

Oh I’m all over this….the suit, the Fortress, hell even the dog….and Clark and Bruce are just bumbling along in ignorance, because nobody told them Kryptonian tech could do that….and nobody thought too hard about how protective that tech was, suddenly, of Bruce….

[ooliecat]

can you draw Frazie 🥺🥺🥺 (PS: your art is so freaking rad I always get a stupid smile when I see it on my dash)

i quite like her

[solmesia]

As a scholar, I think halsin (esp as a bear) gets TERRIBLE cute aggression over astarion

He’s like “I wanna grab that lil elf and bite him like a squeaky toy and shake!!!!”

Cause astarion is just THAT CUTE

yes good yes good yes good

[flame-cat]

i love ford getting mad @ stan & accidentally triggering a flashback/bad memory recollection & that startling him enough for him to stop being angry

major wake up call. i love that man getting humbled

hmmmm yes i love it i'll take 20

bonus thing that happens Later

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[markscherz]

You are everything I aspire to be

If parenting has taught me anything, it is the importance of getting down on your hands and knees and teaching not just facts, but love and enthusiasm for the natural world.

This is my son Q and me. I have dozens of photos like this by now, even though he is just two years old.

Every chance I get, I will kneel down with him and show him the little creatures all around us. Especially when they are frogs. He loves frogs for some reason. No idea why.

It is important that we all see this together. It is beautiful. It is magnificent. We are here. It is improbable to the highest degree. It is fleeting, but it is everything we get. And we can get so, so much of it. If we just get our faces into it and really absorb it.

So that's what l'm trying to do here, I guess. Get all of you to join me in the reeds. And I am so happy to have so many of you along for the journey.

[oifaaa]

You know

You should add Cass and Steph's adopted (or bio) children in this au

What is it with you guys and the elderly anyway I'll think about it for now need to introduce someone more important the GREAT GRANDDAUGHTER of Dick Grayson

Fanny Grayson

[bigidiotenergytm]

May I ask for more of the Twins?

Idk I just like them and Yes I came back after crying about the Ithaca saga for like days.

(If so, I might just lay on my bed and read or look at the art you might make and maybe yap about a crazy,funny, and actually kinda nice fanfic.)

-That one anon who originally asked for the twins. :)

Super happy to hear you're enjoying the AU, dear anon! Since Sky's on break, I'll be taking over and answering your ask as his second in command :3 I'm not sure what exactly you'd want to know, so I guess I'll give you this instead XD

Meet Aspa: Ody's and Poseidon's child

They're a small, nonbinary devil XD I know what you're probably thinking, but no; Ody wasn't the one who got pregnant this time. It was actually Poseidon. And nope, he didn't get knocked up the traditional way. Aspa was the product of blood mixing (during six hundred strike, some of Ody's blood seeped into Poseidon's open wounds, mixed with his ichor and ended up getting him pregnant). They're super attached to Odysseus and a literal angel around him. Poseidon, however, gets the feral side. He's honestly just their stress ball that they bite and chew on. Their design was inspired by beta fish and catfish :333 If you have any specific questions about the twins, feel free to ask either me ( @shinedoitsulikeabright ) or @axt-bs since we worked on it together :3 If you'd like to know more about Aspa, you can either ask here or you could ask me (at least while Sky's on hiatus).

[simplydnp]

What do you think Dan and Phil will do in 2025?what kinda mischief will they get themselves in this time.

i'm a little sus of their 'prepare for the march thing' that they've alluded to in a preshow qna. there's also the 'you haven't seen dan and phil 2.0 yet' comment. but mischief? hmmm

i forsee a wdapteo 5 in our future. people have suggested it as 'promo' for the uk leg, but most of those shows are sold out already (and have been for months LMAO)

i desperately hope they film one of the london shows, so tit can be posted to yt

im also so sus of the iceland show, i'll say it. there's gonna be Something that goes down, either at the show or after.

february is gonna be quiet; they need the rest and so do we.

march: dog. and we'll all go wild. his name will either be john or barkypants.

im not sure how they'll top this year's april fools, but i'm sure it'll be much less produced and even more insane (just cause i don't see them returning to dapc)

tit is finally posted to youtube, they sell the merch online, though no dad hats bc they can't keep up with the paperwork for all of us

they couldn't do it this year bc tour so i'm predicting dnp pride merch

will they travel for summer again? i think they enjoyed turkiye. they'll find a way to be even more boyfriends if they do

they give confirmation that the phouse will never be finished actually

...september is a great time to get married wouldn't you agree

they clown on us so bad by being bert and ernie for halloween

calendar theme: dan and phil and a goddamn good night's sleep

they're gonna do gamingmas and none of us will be ready for the 'ultimate' video on the 24th

(my not so secret wish this year is for a dan iom picture again 🙏)

[m1d-45]

bloodletting

summary: a budding god needs a place to test their new powers, and childe was always a little too eager to lose a fight... a match made in heaven!

word count: 1.7k

-> warnings : minor AQ spoilers ? just like, general gi plot.. fairly graphic depiction of blood + other injuries (might be classed as body horror???). generally obsessive tendencies (childe <--> you). i cannot stress this enough, reader is 110% a sadist.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

power was not something that came easy. it was fought over, stolen, defended with teeth and claw, tides of blood shed just so one could have power over another. social, physical, financial; no matter the leverage it provided, power was hard won. to give someone power was to admit defeat, a certain death that tartaglia had learned and taught more than his fair share of times. nobody undeserving of power ever held onto it for long; it was an acknowledgement that you were better, that you deserved it, that you’d won. power was a fickle resource that childe would kill to keep, only ever laying down his blade for a precious few.

the tsaritsa, of course. his fellow harbingers, skilled both on and off-field, who themselves could rival the archons. his family, for whom he’d happily give the world.

and naturally, who would be more worthy to hold power than you?

you, not just a god but the, the highest authority across all of teyvat. you bore a hundred names and a thousand monikers, your worship the one thing the world could agree on. granted, nobody could quite agree on how, but that was fine. childe did not need external powers to tell him what to do. he knew, in his deepest heart, that he had gotten it right.

he knew—and, on occasion, flaunted—that he was your favorite. of all the vessels you had chosen, you returned to him time and time again, wishing on his stars until his vision gleamed. his bow shone with power, even his weakest weapon more than enough to push his strength to new heights. part of him wondered what he could do if you’d granted him swords, or a claymore… but that was speculation for another time. didn’t it say something that you had still chosen him at his weakest?

the thought always made him smile. thick in the heat of puppeteered battle, before the sun to after dark, your presence was a constant in his life. at every altar, with every offering, when his hands stung from the rash of leather and his blade was covered in rust, your name a prayer behind blood-soaked teeth. he could not remember a time when his pocket was not weighted with a charm.

his devotion was no secret. he wore your bow with pride, entirely phasing out his other weapons. it didn’t matter that he was technically more controlled with them, for you had chosen this path for him. your word was his guide, a polar star through bitter nights.

he did not doubt when your presence ebbed or flowed. who was he to dictate when or where you spent your attention? no, his faith did not waver. it had no reason to. he waited patiently, going about his regular duties, lingering in snezhnaya for no other reason that he just felt like he had to.

who was he to question to buzzing in the back of his head? who was he to decline when he felt an instinct to leave, to go for a trip far past the city gates? who was he to think himself better than the guiding light that had never led him astray?

for you, he was whatever you needed. and so he went, armed with a thick coat and snowboots, hands shoved deep in the pockets to hide the slight shake. down the main road, an arbitrary turn into an alley and down an abandoned path, into a part of the city he’d never traveled. but a golden thread had tied itself around his heart, pulling without hesitation. he easily hopped over the fence gate, not bothering with hauling it open through the snow. the path beyond was covered in a thick layer of powder, his foot crunching through a foot of it before hitting solid ground. still, he continued.

snezhnayan winters were not warm. they bit and dug into every gap in your clothes, stealing away the precious warmth within. and yet, with his half-done coat and incomplete guard, he was not cold. or, rather, he couldn’t feel it. his hands were pink with frost, stiff at the knuckles, but he couldn’t feel the resistance. his body was not important, not now.

the snow began to thin. it fell from his knees to his shins to his ankles to his toes, until he was face to face with a thick wall of bramble, impossibly overgrown. he was beginning to overheat in his jacket. twin blades made quick work of the wall, and the sight behind it easily dispelled any breath left in his lungs.

the air that washed out of the bubble was thick and heavy, like a humid spring instead of snezhnayan woods. his breath came in short gasps, a shameful wheeze that he hoped was missed beneath the howling snow. he didn’t want you to see him as weak, as someone so easily tired by a short trip to a falling star; he didn’t want you to think of him as anything other than his best.

but you didn’t push him away. you helped him up—his head was buzzing with delusion, he could hardly see, when had he fallen to his knees?—and brushed the snow off his hair, not pushing him away when he leaned into your touch. he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could barely collect himself enough to recognize that he needed to get you inside, away from the wilds.

that was power. to so effortlessly take over every thought in his head, to hold his mind in your hands and pull it into your liking, that was the power he adored you for. gods were figureheads of power, a physical incarnation of their dominion. a god of the entire world would only naturally have power to manipulate that world to their liking. how blessed was he, that he could be the first you made yours.

he was with you when you first stepped into zapolyarny palace, looking around at the chandeliers and fine tile. he opened the door for you to her majesty’s throne room, sucking in a sharp breath as you brushed by. he was by your side when the tsaritsa swore you her fealty, delicately placing the gnoses in your hands.

and oh, how he’d fallen to the floor right then and there, dizzy from the wash of power that rolled off you in waves, an ocean that he willingly dove into. the floor was cool beneath his forehead, his hair sticking to his skin as sweat quickly began to bead. he didn’t bother pushing himself up on his hands, teeth sinking deep into his lip again to control his panting breath. copper bloomed over his tongue, filling his mouth and clogging what remained of his senses.

dimly, he was aware that he was being pathetic, that this would surely change your mind about him. he heard your voice, faint through the fog of his mind, your wisdom lost to his own inadequacy. and yet, despite his weakness, every part of him was tuned into you. he knew it was your hand whispering across his shoulders, he knew it was your influence that stole the breath from his lungs. he knew it was you, because it was always you. you were all he could think of, and now you were finally able to leverage your full power over his self.

he’d woken up in a hospital bed. saline dripped into his arm and the lights pierced his eyes, his head full of snow and iced over. and yet, the moment he was cleared for release, he found himself desperate to be back to your side, racing through the tiled halls of the palace and following the urgent burn in his chest. you would have been right to turn him away, to deem him too weak to stay by your side, but you didn’t. you smiled when he lost his breath and laughed when he wavered, brushing off his concern. you invited him with you—his lungs burned with the need for oxygen—as you twirled the gnoses between your fingers, as if they were toys or paperweights rather than objects of divine power.

divine to him. child’s play to you. a courtyard of snow was cleared in an instant, ripples of pyro melting permafrost while keeping the flora beneath intact, a lazy show of power that pulled little more than a slight hum from you in response.

he wasn’t so much a fool as to think he could teach you everything, or even something, about being divine. and yet he clung to your side like a sailor in a storm, watching as you grew familiar with the elements. he watched, stubborn and weak, as you stopped hesitating.

flowers bloomed as you walked by, crumbling to ash with the slightest look. electro jumped from your skin to his, a painful spark that drew his mind from his head, finally seeing your amused eyes instead of just mindlessly staring. you could—should—have just left him behind, but you didn’t. you instead asked for his help, taking his hand in yours and leading him to a quieter hallway of the palace. you didn’t comment on his thundering pulse despite the fact that you could certainly feel it, tracing a finger along the crease of his palm.

“i wonder…”

a claw of geo cut across his skin, a sharp sting that quickly welled with blood. he barely felt it, watching with detached awe as it filled up his hand, sliding over the edge and dripping to the floor. you didn’t show any emotion, just… watching. his heart beat in his hands, a pool collecting on the floor, and still, you just watched. your other hand moved over the surface, barely an inch away, the blood collecting in a bubble beneath it. with a hum, your fist tightened, pain lighting up his arm. a strained grunt slipped between his teeth, hand flinching closed, brushing against the ball of his blood you had pulled from his veins. his hand was stained red, shaking in your grasp, minutes stretched into hours.

all at once, it dropped, forced back into his body as forcefully as it was removed. with a snap, the skin stitched itself shut, and you were again dragging him along like a child did their favorite toy.

you did that a lot. pull him aside and experiment with whatever new reaction you had discovered that month, week, day, hour, watching his reactions with unabashed delight. and he let you. every time, without fail, he eagerly followed, knowing full well he’d end up rigid with lightning or with ice crystals studding his throat. it was worth it, though. you always fixed him up, squeezing his hand with a whispered ‘good job’ that never failed to make him dizzy.

it didn’t matter what you did to him. it never did. even when his mind was hazy with pain and he couldn’t quite stand on his own, he never regretted it. unconsciousness licked at the edges of his vision, burning black stains that lingered even after you stopped, but he never once hesitated.

if you asked him to jump, he’d ask how high. if you felt like holding him underwater, he’d cherish every bruise. to be kept as a toy was still to be kept.

[frownyalfred]

Re: eldritch bludhaven

Gotham and Fortress AI are Bludhavens proud co-parents (potentially divorced). Like yes baby you did such a good job making Nightwings eyes as blue as his suit, no of course the fact that he has white lenses doesn't matter you did great

I’m fucking sobbing 🤣

[brutalitybunny]

awwww you like him

bonus