#yayyy asks :]

[artidoesthings]

For the Sand and Ink AU, how much does the canon events change for the better and/or worse? Oh OH!! Also do you two end up getting your own True Potential moments?!

canon generally changes for the better (in our opinion anyway—). Arti and Lily’s whole goal is to do that.

Garmadon doesn’t sacrifice himself at the end of season 4, Morro gets a full on redemption arc and sticks around, skybound doesn’t get retconned and nobody dies, season 11 doesn’t HAPPEN on account of Aspheera never being released, and Seabound also doesn’t happen.

We both get a true potential moment! Mine is in season 4, I have a general vibe for how it goes— and if I remember right, Lily’s is in season 6!

thanks for asking!!

[luffysoulmate]

I'M ALWAYS MOTIVATED FOR ASKS AT 3AM 😭😭

IT'S OKAY I'LL REPLY AND POST THEM AT A MORE REASONABLE TIME !!!

[swans-chirping-in-the-distance]

Lightlight headcanons 👀

OHOHO. HERE WE GO. Sorry this took me a while

Random but she takes his last name. She felt betrayed by her family and people betrayed Wylie's.

Rayni is the fashionable one. She shows up looking amazing everywhere. Wylie doesn't care much. He's pretty chill.

Wylie didn't trust her at first, but he was more neutral about her because of Tiergan allowing her to be there. He also agrees that the Black Swan don't do enough.

They're very casual with each other.

Trust is their biggest thing because both of them have been betrayed so many times. If they screw up, they tell each other. But no lying.

When he first defends her to Linh, Rayni is soooo happy. Like that's so important to her.

Tam catches on and makes fun of her for it.

Tiergan: oh wylies coming over for dinner guys! Tam: ;) Rayni: :(( (she's secretly happy) Tiergan: *sigh*

Hugs>>>

[t0t411y-n0t-hum4n]

Play any instruments?

Bonus:favorite instrument to listen to?

yes! i play the cello and im starting on the viola. i have experience on the violin but if im being honest i dont like the way that it sounds haha

my favorite to listen to (im going to assume solo for the sake of this because i could probably go on for hours) is the cello. just because it can play as low as a bass and as high as a violin and having that range can create such a beautiful and dramatic effect.

[kuniidealz]

💥

did you know i used to have a poe pfp before my rebrand or whatever it was

are you secretly me...

[aromanticbastards]

4 and 33 uwu

and

[okamialex-draw]

7,19,28!

7. easiest thing for you to draw?

I think clothes? Specially baggy clothes, I really enjoy using shapes and it makes it easier to give the drawing certain amount of flow.

19. where do you find inspiration?

Kinda everywhere, mostly anime/manga or videogames, I really enjoy looking at the different characters and places that they go, it makes me wanna go and wonder how my OCs would look like or what they will do.

I also spent an insanely amount of time listening to music, and I don't know music just give so much inspiration and ideas, I always have like complet animations in my head while listening to music and I just go "I need to draw this or that scene"

28. whats a piece you would like to redraw at some point?

A lot of them, currently I really want to redraw this drawing I made for Galya in 2019, I think I could make something really cool now. I remember being so proud when I did this (honestly I'm still proud of it but yeah I think I can improve it).

[servasha]

hiii seele!! 💗 and 🗑 for lynx? (aka the s/i for kafka (i think) (im so sorry if i forgor...))

HAI CELINE!! lynx is the name of the s/I for navia :33

! 💗 - what arcs does your s/i go through? what do they learn?

lynx goes through several reincarnations with individual arcs, but most of them follow a pattern of slowly detaching from people around her. she didn't learn much besides realizing that she's part of a limbo of sorts.

! 🗑️ - give a scrapped idea for your s/i, be it an old verse or an iteration of the one you have now.

old doodles consisting of lynx's older form :3

[jesuistrestriste]

this is my request for more patrick. dare i say artrick. dare i say them both totally pliable in your hands. i am terribly greedy and want to see sub!artrick and dom!reader written by you. please and thank

love youuuuu

eee hope this is to your liking annie ♥️ muah muah muah !

cw (18+) : sub!art donaldson, sub!patrick zweig, dom!reader, messy handjobs, desperation, dirty talk, patrick and art work for it

“does this feel good?” you breathe out, your voice almost shaky from the feeling of both sets of lips on your neck.

“mmn—yeah, yeah, i’m s’good,” art slurs into your left side, bucking up into your sticky hand, “can i—more—ah, faster—? aah-!”

patrick bites at your right earlobe and whimpers against your skin. his cock throbs in your right fist, dribbling with fluid from his attentive slit. it looks like melting glass pouring down his sensitive flesh.

“please,” he groans, “touch my tip, please.. oh, fuck, please—“

you chuckle and then suck in a soft breath when the blonde nips needily at your shoulder, lathing over it with his tongue after in apology. sometimes when his body starts to ache with arousal, he has to find an outlet for it—and sometimes that means biting, grabbing, sobbing, the like. patrick’s usually only slightly more restrained. they’re like two sides of the same coin, both constantly vying for attention, only in subtly different ways. it’s a good thing that you’ve trained them to stop bickering when you’re playing with their willing bodies. otherwise, they’d be at each other’s throats a bit right now.

“behave.”

that singular word from your mouth snaps them both back into place like rubber bands. art pants, high-pitched and whiny, while patrick grabs at the front of your body. he palms over your chest and squeezes whatever he can cup.

“i’m sorry,” you hear earnestly from the left side, accompanied by a calloused hand rubbing your inner thigh. you fist the back of his golden curls, which elicits a sharp, guttural cry to spring forth. his length twitches, balls drawn up.

“sorry, ungh, sorry,” comes from the right side, but less earnest and more please, just don’t stop. your other hand rubs at his bouncing leg. his eyes roll back under heavy lids, eclipsing his colorful irises.

“who wants to come?”

art smushes himself into your side and accidentally slides his dick through your returned grip, shuddering, “me, me—i wanna—.. please, it hurts—“

he swallows his mouthful of drool and buries his face into your neck. whines like a newborn puppy. grabs at your bicep.

patrick tugs roughly at the waistband of your bottoms, desperately wanting to slide his hand down and make you feel good. you can practically feel the waves of heat radiating off of his dazed body.

“i’m ready to come for you, feel me,” he takes his other hand and wraps it around your hand that’s holding his length, urging you to squeeze him a bit more and feel how much he needs it, “i’m so close.. so close, s’ close, i feel it coming..”

you slide your hands off of them at the same time. they crumple forward and moan brokenly at nearly the exact same moment, both feeling the swell of their peaks taper off painfully when your curled fingers caress the undersides. they pout and look up to your eyes.

“are you both going to be good for me?”

simultaneous nods follow the question. unsurprising. they share a look between themselves, then back to you.

you place a hand on the back of art’s neck first, then patrick’s. a soft smirk creeping over your lips as you urge them both forward in front of your eyeline.

they seem to get the hint, their gazes immediately fixating on one another. patrick’s the first to move, reaching his touch from your body to cup art’s ruddy cheek. the blonde leans into the touch like its some sort of lifeline, pleading for any point of contact he can get. he dives in and smushes his lips to the brunette’s, licking at his bottom one to beg for entry. pat obliges.

while you watch them begin to sync up, all broken sounds and lewd smacking and furrowed brows, you spit into your palms and bring them back down to begin pumping them. watching them kiss is like watching them play tennis: they know exactly what to do. it’s almost like they’re doing a dance.

art’s eyes flutter open and roll back, patrick’s squeezing shut tighter. their jaws slack and they lick into each other’s open mouths, gulping each other’s cries down greedily—like they’re consuming one another’s pleasure in the midst of their own. you feel a blurt of warm lubricant seep between your fingers from art’s cock, and a thrum of heat runs through your spine at the realization. he’s always been one to enjoy making-out. thoroughly, actually. he can finish just from it alone. patrick needs a bit more stimulation.

so, expectantly, the brunette chokes on a soft sob against his opposite’s bottom lip and drags his tongue over it. “more,” he murmurs, “aangh, jus’ a bit more—“

you stroke them both faster and they nearly break. pat bites down hard on art’s lip and art yelps, his hips bouncing with your touch.

“gentle, patrick, gentle,” you remind him, thumbing the ridge of his cockhead, the area pulsing and hot to the touch.

art sniffles, kissing his tennis partner deeper despite the sting from the clamp of his teeth. their hands are all over each other now. clawing at forearms and snagging handfuls of hair and gripping over shoulders. it’s a mess.

suddenly, patrick breaks the kiss and whimpers against art’s jaw—low and stuttered. art tries to kiss him again, too lost in the feeling to realize he’s stopped, but misses his lips and mouths at his cheek instead.

“i’m too close,” the brunette shudders, “please, can i come yet? i can’t hold it anymore, it’s gonna come out, gonna come,” he murmurs urgently.

“art, are you ready too?”

he nods, licking over the sweat on pat’s skin depravedly. he kisses him again, finding his lips. “mhmmmn—!”

you slide your hands up to begin rapidly jerking their tips, using their oozing evidence of arousal to work them up to their frayed ends. art squeezes patrick’s arm, mouth open and letting out little sounds that rise in pitch—higher, higher, higher—almost there. patrick tries in vain to fuck into your touch, his pelvis stuttering, his fluids leaking over his happy-trail.

“are you boys going to come now?”

art mewls sharply, patrick swallows thickly around a throaty sob. any more teasing, and you’d never hear the end of it. it’d be cruel, really.. and they’ve been good enough.

you press your thumbs to their tacky frenulums. rubbing quick, successive circles there. just how they like it—just what they need.

“.. let it all go.. show me how obscene and filthy you both look when you break..”

and they do.

they shatter.

their visions white out dizzily as the stimulation reaches the point of no-return; their mouths opening and bodies convulsing in ways that are nothing short of pornographic.

“oh, fuuuck—!” patrick gushes, ropes pouring from him in heavy waves, the paralyzing jabs of pleasure rendering him useless and twitchy as he orgasms. the thick, clotted load spills copiously.

a string of clinging spit bridges their lips as art leans back to pant raggedly. he looks down and watches as his own climax floods the gaps between your fingers and bubbles frothily as your movements refuse to relent. he uses his free hand to grab your wrist, thrusting reflexively as he hiccups and nearly squeals from the overstimulation. “ow—hmmngh—coming, coming, so much—“

you touch both of them until tears spring to the corners of their eyes, threatening to spill down their cheeks as they writhe and squirm in their seats. you suck your inner cheek between your teeth and bite down to resist the desire to torture their parts until they’re too fucked-out to form a thought. you’ve done it before, and it backfired when they weren’t able to stand up afterwards. all limp and shaky. maybe another time.

you slow your movements and slide your fists off of their shafts with a wet squelch, both of them curling inward from the oversensitivity.

“good job,” you croon, “didn’t realize you both were so pent up.. look at my hands..”

you hold up your messy palms to show them what they did. they look up with vacant stares, still breathing heavy and lost in the aftershocks.

“what do you say, hmm? you know what i need to hear.”

art lolls his head to rest on your shoulder and moans lowly, chest rumbling. patrick leans forward to sigh against your neck.

“thank you,” you hear on your left, “thank you so much,” follows on your right.

you smile.

“you’re welcome.”

[tazmiilly]

I love how you draw ford and fiddleford in like,,,, daily living situations. Honestly, my favorite thing ever

awww yayyyy!!!! im really thrilled to hear people like the slice of life stuff....it's my favorite thing to draw with these two! I love how fun it is to imagine them having regular conversations amongst the madness brewing

[nox-in-a-box]

I was gonna do some serious sketches but got silly with them as usual...

[asexualbookbird]

my indie bookstore does Blind Date With A Book every Indie Book Store day and this was mine!

[wimbledon2008]

when christopher turns eighteen and no longer needs a guardian in the event of eddie's death and buck and eddie have to come up with a new symbolic legal arrangement to bind them together and marriage would be the obvious option but they're just friends we can't get just friends married eddie if i was going to marry you i'd marry you for love 🥺 so they form a limited liability company

[flutterbabee]

hallo can i request logan w/ pup reader like your deadpool one :3 i rlly liked it and i look forward to more works from u !!

DOG TAGS!

Summary: You and Logan have been having teetering on the edge of a relationship for quite some time now. It isnt until you're gifted something during another one of your 'meetings' that you can finally feel how deep his love for you goes

Includes: Logan calls the reader "Mutt" and "Pup," Reader has dog ears and a tail, Mentions of being "owned" and "claimed," Sniffing kink? Size? Sorta kinda

Who: Logan Howlet x puppy! mutant reader

Notes: hope you enjoy anon, this is my first time writing Logan so beware...I'm also not completely satisfied with this but if I don't post it now I never will (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) hope you enjoy it anon despite how long it took lol

Logan was lounging in the living room, the low hum of the fireplace crackling in the background. His eyes lazily follow your mundane movements across the room. The swish of your tail, how your clothes would fit into your curves whenever you turned, your subtle breathing, and the occasional twitch of your ears. You were unsure, anyone could see that, but you'd never admit it, especially to him. Looking away for a moment and back again, he saw your eyes on him, and he smirked. The night had been quiet, too quiet, and he found himself wanting to break the silence. To finally re-visit something without a name. "Hey," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the stillness, "You look like you're itchin' for somethin' to do." And deep down, you couldn't agree more.

Logan led the way down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing softly against the walls. His attire was casual, yet rugged: a worn leather jacket, a faded gray T-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, and dark jeans that showed signs of wear. His hair, unkempt as usual, fell messily over his brow, and his sharp eyes flicked to the side as he opened the door to his bedroom. As the door swung wide, a scene unfolded, a room that felt lived-in, a reflection of its inhabitant's no-nonsense demeanor. The bed was unmade, the sheets twisted in a tangle, and a few clothes were scattered across the floor, evidence of a hurried departure from the day. The faint scent of leather and old wood lingered in the air, a blend of masculinity and a space that rarely saw tidying up.

Once inside, Logan motioned to the bed, his voice low but welcoming. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair before making his way to sit on the edge of the bed, his eyes briefly meeting yours as he took a seat on the it, singling you to follow suit. He helped you to sit on his lap, the scent of week old cologne wafted off him. You'd try to subtlety sniff around his body, to inhale as much of his scent as possible. The room, though chaotic in some ways, carried a strange sense of comfort, with its dim lighting and soft, worn-out furniture that had clearly been with him for years.

Logan had taken his time undressing you both with deliberate, almost reverent motions. His calloused hands, already familiar with the curves of your body, had slowly peeled away the layers of clothing that separated your bare skin from his hungry touch. He had savored each revealed inch, his dark eyes drinking in every dip and swell as if committing your naked form to memory. With a gentleness that concealed the intensity of his desire, Logan had trailed his fingers along your collarbone, tracing the delicate line of your throat, before allowing the last of your garments to slip away. Only then had he stepped back, his own muscular frame now bared to your appreciative gaze, the air between you heavy with lust and anticipation.

"Hold on, I got something for you." Logan, with his jeans still on, removes something from his pocket. Two thin and flat pieces of steel connected to a chain. They were dog tags, his dog tags, and in bold letters was "Howlett, Logan" written on one and "Wolverine" on the other. He fastens the cool, metal around your neck, the tags glinting against your bare skin. Your ears, perked and alert, flick as the coldness hits your neck. A furry tail sways behind you, its glossy coat catching the light with each movement. "Don't you look pretty like this?" he smirked at you with those familiar canines before wrapping his large forearms around your waist and tilting his head upwards for a kiss. His beard felt a bit scratchy rubbing against your cheek.

The bedroom was stuffy, sweat clung to your bodies, and the soft cushion of the bed did well, enveloping your back and easing the full weight of Logan's body on top of yours. His grunts masking your pitched squeaks and creaking from the bed. You're laid bare, both of your legs bent back, one of your ankles over Logan's shoulder and his hand pushing down on the bend of your other knee.

"—Fuckin' look at you, spoiled Mutt." His words held a certain bite to them, and despite his harsh tone, you were receptive to it. It's not like you had much space to move under Logan, but the beating of your tail against the bed and Logan's thigh could still be heard along with the squeak of the mattress and your pitched moans. Among the sound was the jingle and clink of the two silver dog tags. Their coldness still apparently on your heating skin.

"—Mhmp...!" Your body tenses as you let out trembling moans, and your quivering thighs try so desperately to find some stability around his broad shoulders. The rough texture of his beard against your neck, occasionally brushing his canines over your throat. Letting out broken wails of his name, and even then he doesn't let up. Pumping his cock in and out of your gummy hole.

The sound of Logan's raspy growls greatly contrasted with your babbling. The sheets below you were drenched in a mix of sweat and slick; it was all too much to take, but at the same time, you didn't want it to stop. Unbeknownst to you, you had started to pant, taking turns between lolling out your tongue and tugging at Logan's ear with the points of your teeth. The thump of your tail hitting against Logan's thigh and the amount of times you'd pull at his ear quickened. "Quit whinin', Mutt," Logan grunted after a particularly rough thrust. "Patient, pup," he spoke in a growl as he yanked his ear out of your teeth.

Logan took your mouth in his, his teeth clashing with yours. Opening your mouth, you allow his tongue to envelop yours. The steel of the dog tags finally feeling a bit warm as they sat between you. They were a reminder of who laid on top of you, whose cock you were currently creaming around. Your moans gradually got more airy and whiny; you continued making such shameless noises through the kiss Logan had you in. Shifting his head so he'd get better access to your tongue, he started to focus on it, sucking and licking on it, and you tried your best to keep up, but by this point you were just too far gone. A moaning and droopy mess below him.

Logan's intense gaze locks with yours, his eyes blazing with primal desire as he looms over you, his muscular frame glistening with exertion. "You're just perfect for me, aren't you?" he growls, breaking away from the searing kiss to place a large, calloused hand on your head, gently wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow. His hips never cease their relentless assault, the obscene sound of your slick arousal squelching lewdly with each powerful thrust as he splits you open on his thick, pulsing cock. The dog tags bouncing against your collarbone. You adored the sensation of being so utterly claimed, so completely owned, it sent electric volts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"You're just loving this, me fucking you like this?" Logan snarls, his voice a low, guttural rumble. Mute with ecstasy, you can only manage a frantic, jerky nod of affirmation, your body quivering with the sheer intensity of sensation. "You going to cum?" he demands, punctuating the question with a sharp, deep thrust that punched the air out of your lungs. "Whose pussy is it?" Logan barks, his eyes wild and feral as he stares down at you with blatant, unbridled lust. "Whose is it, huh?" he repeats, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Yours—it's yours!" You managed to voice in a pathetic whimper. "That's right, prove it to me," he commands, his hips slamming into yours with vicious, unyielding force. "Prove to me and cum on my cock" Logan barked, his body coiled with tension, eagerly awaiting your ultimate release. Your throat closes around a strangled moan, your vision blurring at the edges as the first searing waves of your climax begin to crash over you like a tidal wave.

As the final spasms of your intense orgasm subside, a profound sense of tranquility settles over you like a soothing balm. "Ghgnn—" "Hmm—mm." You moaned. Logan touches you gently, his hands now tenderly brushing sweat-dampened hair from your face as he gazes down at you with a look of deep satisfaction. "Shh, that's my good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble. The air around you feels charged, yet somehow light and airy, as if the very atmosphere has been infused with the lingering essence of your shared ecstasy. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, the coolness of the room a refreshing contrast to the residual heat radiating from your skin. In the aftermath, a serene stillness envelops you both, broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and the gentle whisper of Logan's fingers through your hair, a loving caress that speaks volumes about the intimate connection the two of you have made. You reach up to caress the metal around your neck, tracing your fingers against its ingraved lettering.

"Logan, Howlett"

"Wolverine"

[glacierclear]

WELCOME BACK GLACIER!

thank youuuu. happy to be back :)

[kociamieta]

angel who thinks its doing such a good job pretending to be a dog and its blind owner who doesnt know their service dog is glowing with the power of a thousand suns

YEAHHHH!!!! they’d still feel the unusually high temperature of this thing but who doesn’t love a free heater really