#2/02

[creaturina]

La Luna e Venere

[misguidedtreestump]

Unit 2

[0hpotato]

it is complete! [8/8]

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[reginalusus]

Yes, I have used the chibis before but I am using them again. MY blog.

It's 22/02. Or 2/22. Him. His day. Their day. Random ahh doodle below:

Ko-Fi Bluesky

[zeffdakilla]

do you guys remember that tf2 au i had well i finally drew them after a year

[kathegoose]

Ten years of FNaF 2!!!!

this game was the one that first got me into fnaf actually, this was the one my older brother played and injected into my smooth developing young child brain!

it was some variant of fnaf2-in-real-life that we played in the kitchen too where he was the nightguard and i had to be chica. because of gender...

happy birfday fnaf 2, remember to listen to all the classic 2014 fnaf songs everyone :]

UNCRUSTY VARIATIONS!!! mild/no vhs

aaand the speebpaint heehoo!!!

[blondebrainpowered]

Ghostbusters II, 1989

With a date change from 2016 to 2025.

[kirby-sexyperson-tournament]

[robotalien]

ten ✧ 1001 movement seoul concert behind

[messenger-of-babel]

Happy New Year

Summary: Hal reflects on all the ways he could have kept you around for another New Years. (Hal Jordan x fem!reader)

Word Count: 3.0K

Notes: brief mention of injuries, mild language, a soft spot for Hal Jordan.

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Your favourite tradition with Hal had always been the New Year. He'd come back and whisk you away with that signature grin, leather jacket on his shoulders while he offered you his arm. The same arms that wrapped themselves tight around your waist as he grinned down at you, crafted smirk on his lips as he counted down with the crowd at whatever party in Coast City, Gotham, or Metropolis that he had somehow managed to get the exclusive invite to. Then he'd kiss you breathless, pulling away only to whisper, "Happy New year," against your lips before greedily taking another kiss.

It had been Hal’s favourite activity too. He couldn't explain the rush he got picking you up from your apartment, seeing you smile at him. When it came to pestering the other members of the Justice League for tickets to their city events, he started a month ahead to really wear them down until they agreed (however he always started two months early in order to get tickets to Bruce’s New Year Gala). He didn’t care if he became a pest at the watchtower, there was nothing better than seeing you all dressed up on that front step, smiling at him like he had just brought you the sun (which he would if he could). 

You meant the world to Hal Jordan, which is why it felt like his was tearing apart right now. There was a persistent ache in his chest, and a sharpness of breath every time he swallowed. The crook of his arm felt light, and his back was unusually straight without you jumping on him from behind. He was on Gotham for business, dreary and depressing as usual. The clock tower loomed in front of him, except this time there wasn’t a crowd counting down, or a kiss waiting on the other end. 

Ten.

“You’re late.” You had said to him as he raced into the restaurant, hair combed with only his fingers and suit jacket thrown over his arm. He tried to give you a charming smile to make up for it, but he could see from the frown on your face you weren’t buying it. 

“Only by ten minutes, got caught at work.” He had said, arm coming to circle your waist, which you shook off. He hadn’t been lying, he had gotten called to Oa for an emergency. However he didn’t particularly feel like revealing that he was in fact the local superhero, the Green Lantern, on your anniversary dinner. Or the fact that he was late because of a potential threat to some Lanterns stationed in deep space. 

“Not ten, twice that.” You snapped. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again. “You’re still in the waiting area, I clearly wasn’t that late.”

“It's because we lost our reservation, Hal.” You murmur, brushing past him and refusing to meet his eyes as you storm out the restaurant. 

“Shit.” He hisses under his teeth as he watches you leave,  before turning to follow you. He offers a small wave to the onlookers from nearby tables, privy to the whole argument, and nods apologetically as if he hadn’t screwed up his anniversary. 

Nine.

“Nine weeks?” You ask, peering up at him with eyebrows furrowed. “You’re going to be gone for nine weeks?” 

Hal bites the inside of his cheek, cursing as the frown settled across your face. He nods, “Yeah, sorry babe,” and he winces, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket. It was times like this he wishes he could tell you everything, let you know it wasn’t his fault. That he was doing this for you, so that you could be safe back on earth. He wanted to show you had badly he wanted to stay with you, to sleep in on Saturdays and watch dogs in the park from your bedroom window. To make you a coffee before you went to work, and kiss you on the cheek before he left for his.  

You just sigh, flipping through the calendar splayed out on the kitchen counter. “You miss my birthday you know.” You say quietly, head in your hand. 

“Yeah I saw.” He replies, lump in his throat. “I’m really sorry, babe. It’s just work-“ he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan. “You know I’d stay if I could, right? I wouldn’t go if there wasn’t any other choice. I love you, you know that.” He says softly. 

Silence.

That was the first time in your entire relationship you hadn’t said it back. He watched as you chewed at your lip, and he could see your eyes mist up slightly. It made his heart clench painfully in his chest, and his mouth went dry, not knowing what to say. He knew he should stay in the kitchen with you, to talk it out, but he couldn’t. 

Muscles heavy with shame he turned from the kitchen, heading back into your shared bedroom to continue packing. Maybe things would have been different if he hadn’t been a coward.

Eight. 

There were eight missed calls on his phone when he checked, all from your phone and minutes after the other. He cringed, finger hovering over the button to call back, before it slid to click the phone screen off instead and he pocketed it. 

“No personal business on the job.”

He turned, looking over his shoulder to catch the gaze of Batman who was busying himself with an array of computers. They’d set themselves up on the rooftop of a Metropolis skyscraper, monitoring transmissions from the adjacent LexCorp building. Hal stepped away from the edge he had been standing near, observing the chaos in the streets below, turning to face the black clad man. 

“I know that.” He scoffed, green mask crinkling in annoyance. 

“You accept any call here and Luthor could be made aware of our position.” 

“I said I know,” Hal snapped back, shoulder blades rising. “I didn’t take the calls.”

Hal sighs, feeling the phone vibrate in his pocket again. “It’s just…my girl. She’s worried is all. I said I was here for work. She’s probably losing her mind.” He confesses quietly. The weight sits uncomfortably in his chest, and his ego bruises slightly confiding in Batman of all people. Yet he can’t stop the words coming out to the silent vigilante. 

The man in question just sends him a side eyed glance, face stern but doesn’t tell him off. “We’ve been going through a hard patch. Just busy with work, you know? And we’ve been able to go out less and it’s just putting a bit of a strain on us. Not really her fault, it’s mine if anything.”

He signs and pinches the bridge of his nose as if to alleviate the oncoming headache. Batman just regards him silently, the white slits of his mask narrowing. Eventually he gives a grunt, turning back to his computers. “You can call her when it’s all over.” He says gruffly, making Hal sigh. 

You were definitely going to kill him when he gets back.

Seven. Six. Five.

He punched in 765, the code to your gated apartment building, only to be met with a red light and a buzzer sound. With a groan he hit his head on the cool metal of the grate, fingers coming up to find the button for the intercom. Typing in your shared apartment number and he waited as the dial tone began. It rung four times, making Hal worry, before you finally picked up and the tension eased out of his shoulders. “Hey doll, the code isn’t working,” he starts, aligning himself in front of the small camera so you can see him. “Can’t get in.”

He can hear your sign on the other side. “Codes change every month Hal,” you remind, the flicker of irritation in your voice not going unnoticed. “Changed up last week.”

He rustles the flowers in his hand, crumpled from being pressed against his chest for so long. “I was kind of busy, work kept me occupied.” He says, trying to be suave but the nervous smile on his face still lingers. The door buzzes again and the light turns green, metal creaking as it slides to let him in.

“It always does.” You say, voice flat until the static tone of the intercom cuts. 

Four.

He had four more drinks that he should have, going out to celebrate with old drinking buddies as one of his old, non-hero friends got hitched. The bachelor party had been a blur of sounds and colours after a while, and for a few pressing moments he had to remind himself that he wasn’t the bachelor anymore, he had someone waiting for him at home. The very same person he hurt as he stumbled in inebriated through the front door, tie loose and hair mussed. He could see the hurt flicker in your eyes as you took in the smear of dark lipstick against his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. 

“Have fun?” You ask, crossing your arms. He thinks you’re beautiful even when you’re angry at him. He can see it in the way you dig your fingers into your arms, the slight quiver of your lips as you hold yourself back. He just nods in return, world spinning as he does. “A lotta fun,” he slurs, blinking away the lights dancing in front of him, tempting him to collapse onto the wooden floor. “A lotta pretty ones…” he snickers to himself, and your body freezes. If he was sober he’d backtrack faster than Barry could run, explain that the whole night he kept himself in check, that he actually came to his senses and denied everyone that threw themselves his way because they weren’t you. That you were the prettiest person he knew, that he didn't really mean to make such a comment.

But he doesn’t. He stumbles to the couch and collapses into its groaning arms while you regard him from the doorframe with a scoff. 

“You’re pathetic Hal Jordan.” You spit at him, but he can hear the hurt in your voice. If he was a better man he’d chase after the shadow of your retreating form, but he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t know if he deserves to. 

Three.

Hal Jordan had three things that he valued in his life. There was his work, of course, with the justice league and as a Lantern. There were the people of his city, his home, who had already endured so much, and then there was you. From the first time that he saw you, he knew everything was about to change for him, and he could only hope that it would be for the better. He wasn’t so sure what to call it now.

He had never expected things to get so messy.

Fires littered the streets of Coast City like pockmarks as he soared overhead, a threat too big for him to handle alone striking his city. Ever since it was rebuilt it had attracted all sorts of crazies, at a frequency that called him in more often than he’d like. Biting down his pride he had called the League. Was it sometimes overkill? Yes. Was Supes beginning to get worried about his ability to defend his city? Most certainly. 

But he couldn’t risk the city being destroyed again. Not when you lived here now.

His heart fell through his chest coming to the rubble of your apartment building. Touching down he leaped across the bricks and warped metal, courtyard strewn with personal belongings. Some of them he recognised, such as the framed art piece he got on sale that you hated but hung anyways, the glass now shattered and frame broken. Many were from other tenants, remnants of their lives now pinned under stone and steel. The paramedics had corralled as many people as they could off to the side of the road, blankets wrapped around shivering shoulders.

That’s where he beelined for next, relief quickly filling his veins as he sees you on a medical stretcher, bruised and scraped, but alive. You make eye contact with him, offering him a faint smile as he approaches.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, wishing more than anything he was out of the suit right now. To be Hal Jordan, the worried boyfriend. You nod, smile flickering weakly at the corners of your mouth. “I’m fine.” You say back hoarsely, hugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I’m just waiting for someone.” You say, eyes flicking to the shattered phone screen beside you on the stretcher.

He feels guilt gnaw at him like a rat in his ribcage, and his own smile is tight in return. “I’m sure whoever you’re waiting for is worried to hell and will be here any moment.” He tries to sound calm, as if he isn’t going to wrap the whole battle up just so he can make good on that promise. You let out a dry laugh, not the kind that you’d let when he’d surprise you in the kitchen, or when he’d spin you around while strolling in the park.

“I won’t count on it.” You say, trying your best to stay calm. “Thank you for coming to check on us, for caring.” You say softly, giving him a warm smile that goes straight to his heart. Since you’d been having a rocky time he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled like that for him.

“No problem,” he said, voice caught in his throat. “Stay safe.”

As he walked away to talk to the paramedics to increase the range they should check for survivors, his heart fell painfully into his stomach. If only you knew how much he cared.

Two.

There had always been the two of you, against the world. That’s what Hal thought at the dinner of your first month anniversary together. However, that feeling was nothing more than a memory as he came home, late as usual, to the spare bedroom where he had been banished the past week. It was a new apartment, in a neighbourhood that you had been reluctant to move into but he had insisted it had the best safety. He knew he had done this to himself, but it did nothing to quell the ache he had in his chest that craved to have you close.

As he passed the ajar door of your once shared bedroom, he cant help but let out a small sigh, eyes cast back down to the floor as he wills himself to walk past. He’d been sleeping there shortly after the last city attack, where despite his best efforts he only got back to you in plain clothes two hours after the paramedics had let you go.  He should have had the conversation with you about him, his work, but he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

 He was losing you; he knew that. Hell, everyone knew that, even the Bat. He’d seen the side glances cast to him in meetings, obscured behind the overly sympathetic (and not very concealed) gazes of Superman and Flash. He hated the pity, feeling like everyone was watching him lose the one thing he managed to both treasure and isolate the most.

As he dropped his bags on the bed he changed out of his suit. He knew it was dangerous to come home in the suit in case you found out, but there was just some small quiet part of him that hoped you might. That you might have stayed up, worried about him cheating or some equally heartbreaking scenario, and catch him coming home. Then he wouldn’t have to have the conversation itself and the cards would be on the table instead of him having to place them there. He knew that’s what it would take to have even a chance of keeping you.

Changed into a loose shirt for sleeping he crawls into the cold sheets of the guest bed, fiddling with his ring. Not for the first time, he thought of how you deserved any other ring that this cursed green one in your life.

One.

When he came home there was nothing of yours left. Clothes gone from the closet, books taken off the shelves. Nothing to indicate you had ever been a part of his life, just a single piece of paper on the kitchen counter. His heart had dropped to his floor and his knees wanted to buckle, despite having prepared and resigned to this moment mentally for weeks. He traced the faint curves of your handwriting, ghosting his fingers over the swells of your vowels.

You had left a pros and cons list, separated into two columns on the yellow grid paper by a thick black marker. In the cons you had written things like, ‘stays back late at work all the time, forgot anniversary, doesn’t pick up when I’m worried, comes home late’, and the worst one in his eyes, ‘cheating?’ surrounded by many scrawled question marks.

His eyes fluttered over to the pro’s column, unable to look at the hole he dug himself any longer. In more delicate handwriting you had delicately listed only one thing.

One, single thing.

I love him.

Now, Hal stared up at the clock face of Gotham, hands shoved into jacket pockets as he waited to meet Bruce. He waited on a park bench nearby, standing up when he saw the looming figure of the billionaire begin to approach him.

He hoped that no matter wherever you had taken yourself, whatever you had decided to do when you moved on, that you could hear the way his arms ached with your absence, and the way he faltered to say your name.

Happy New Year.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

‘my little son's body.’

[pyllymursu]

Arukenimon and Mummymon cosplay (Digimon)

Here's a thing (or five) I have been working on for the past several months in an ADHD-fueled mayhem

So here's me as Mummymon and my diabolical darling my wife @pupusukka as Arukenimon (thank you once more for enabling me with whatever insanity I do on a daily basis)

I'd love to tell more about the process of making these two costumes, but this post is really long already, so if you have any interest in the inner workings of either costume, feel free to ask! I am always willing to ramble like a madman haha

+ Also you get two bonus photos of us as the two in their disguised forms (if you think you have seen these two cosplays before: yeah I did those too haha)

[flashygirlfromflushing]

FRAN DRESCHER as FRAN FINE in The Nanny (1993–1999) – Shares the same skirt as Maggie in 2×01

[paramasqueradeva]

The Chara Timeline Epi 6- 10 [Deltarune/Undertale Comic Dub]

(Collab W/ @washerpizza and Project Alpha )

Comic by: @lilybug-02 

[avakkins-alter]

サブリナ | Taiyaki

[bloomingkyras]

Evan's quirks #proud of myself from being the heir