#but meh :

[colloline]

Fisheye lens and realistic coloring experiment + bw because why not.

[neostellarjpg]

Can you draw Davekat plz? :3

here you go my liege

second image is fanart of this stream by bonzi77 and jacobtheloofah

[atomicbell]

Headache

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

[wily-fox]

☀ Sunshine ☀

For Mermay Bingo 2024

Dream belongs to jokublog Leviathantale belongs to skumhuu

[that-g3-artist]

GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK GROOZELINK

this one's basically done, i just didn't like it for some reason lol

(send me one of my WIPs and i'll tell you about it!)

[sheep-turtles-and-pizza]

Magical hair.

[blackberriebrambles]

More Hazbin animal headcanons with little to no explanation:

Husk:

cannot see glass

cannot see things close up very well but has excellent vision for things far away

will chase light reflections on the wall. Angel thinks this is hilarious. They don't speak of it.

hates when people stick things near his face bc whiskers (they're sensitive)

zoomies at 3 am

takes forever in the bathroom (both cats and birds spend a lot of time grooming themselves)

expressive tail and ears!

expressive feathers!

loves to be petted but would never admit it, esp on his head/back of his neck

can't taste sugar

scratches the furniture

Angel Dust:

Very good spatial awareness

good at knitting/weaving/other textile arts

very strong for his size

i don't actually know much about spiders. Venom, maybe?

can jump very high/far

Sir Pentious:

Uses his tongue to smell

cold blooded! loves to lounge in warm, sunny areas

sheds skin

looks like he's a cobra so venomous

can sense vibrations but also cannot hear very well

hates stairs

no eyelids

sleeps when it's cold

Alastor:

surprisingly stealthy

very good night vision

blinded by bright lights

secretly likes being around people

very good senses; hearing, smell, etc

flight/freeze response

expressive ears (loved seeing his ears move around on the show!)

+BONUS Valentino:

his eyes are shit and he eats his clothes

[strawberri-draws]

Road trip (Vee and Camilla are in the front seats <3 )

[godnectar]

showered, getting sleepy + entering chilling mode, and now 'm somehow fighting the urge to ramble + shitpost abt yandere santa, dilf ver. 🥴

[silly-guy-tendencies]

god DAMN why did i spend 2 days on this

[murdrdocs]

idk if you have already written this since im a new follower but i was wondering if you can write where bimbo!reader puts on the ghostface mask with like sexy lingerie and ethan EATS IT UP.

i love your writing sm! and i understand if you dont wanna write this :) i literally cant get enough of your stories lol

a) thank you for following me and appreciating my work !! b) i would love to write this for you *rubs hands together* no smut i'm lazy

When Ethan walks into his room to see you holding a white mask in your hands, his heart rate immediately increases. He pauses in the doorway, his hand still wrapped around the knob, one foot inside of the room and the other out.

He's about to speak, maybe play it off and pretend the mask doesn't hold any significance to him, or tell you that it's not what it looks like. You speak before him.

Your head lifts, your lips in a pout, when you say, "You had one this whole time? And you didn't tell me?"

Ethan, completely confused, steps into the bedroom and lets the door swing closed behind him. He looks over you, noticing how you're only wearing his hoodie and a pair of boots. You both were supposed to be getting ready for the frat party that Chad was insisting Ethan go to tonight, something about getting the true freshmen in college experience. Of course, Ethan couldn't go without his girlfriend, which made Chad even happier as he not so subtly insinuated that Ethan should get laid tonight.

But you didn't look party ready, save for from your neck up.

He licks his lips and approaches you. "What're you talking about?"

You hold the Ghostface mask up directly beside you, your free hand singling out a pointer finger to point at the mask. "The mask, Ethan!" you say like it's completely obvious. Ethan's starting to think that it is obvious, and he's just not picking up on it. His throat gets a little dry, and his eyes get shifty.

He's thinking of something to say but again, you beat him to it. "You knew I was looking for one for Halloween. For tonight!"

Oh yeah. That.

Ethan did know that, but he was so enamored by your nails clacking along your keyboard and the way your new perfume smelled and the way your glossed lips parted as your perfect teeth smacked on your minty gum. You were overwhelming his senses, so he could barely focus on your smooth voice detailing your Halloween costume options.

"Shit, 'm sorry. I didn't know about that." Lie. He reaches out to splay his hands over your waist to cover up how horrible he is at lying. "Maybe next year?"

You lean into his touch, but your head tilts as if you're not understanding him. "I can wear it this year, too."

Ethan watches as your hands reach down to the hoodie, pulling it over your head carefully as to not drop the mask. His brain short circuits as he sees what you're wearing.

It's barely anything. Mostly because you're not wearing actual clothes, just a set of lingerie that Ethan hasn't seen before, most likely a new purchase.

"See this is what I was gonna wear, E," you say it through a pout but the words barely meet Ethan's ears. He's too busy staring at your soft skin, the way your tits sit in the bra, the way your thighs look, the way the panties hug your hips.

You're still talking, but Ethan's hands are already back on your waist and trailing down to your hips.

"Well I wasn't going to wear just this. I didn't wanna look like a total slut. So I have a little skirt I was gonna wear. You know the tiny one that almost shows my ass? Ethan?"

He hums, letting you repeat the last of your sentence. "Mhm," he says when you finish, the noise acting enough as affirmation for you to continue.

"Would that look cute with this? What'd you think?" He doesn't answer. "Ethan."

"Baby, I'm sorry. But I'm not listening to anything you're saying right now."

The admission makes you heat up, not from anger but from the opposite. Knowing that Ethan is always listening to you, and the only reason why he's not right now is because you're distracting him with your figure, makes you feel a little giddy inside.

"Do you like it?" Your voice is soft, your eyes the same. He nods, licking his lips and pulling you close enough that you can feel the bulge forming in his pants.

"Yeah?" you ask.

"Yeah."

"Sure it's not too much?"

Ethan's leaning down now, his hands circling around your back, obviously itching to grip your ass. You push yourself against him, free hand resting on his forearm, giving it a little push as a go-ahead.

"Not too much at all." His hand finally inches down and he takes one of your almost-bare asscheeks in his palm, squeezing it before smacking it.

You giggle, your head knocking against his chest. Ethan lifts one hand to encourage your head to leave his chest only so he can kiss you once, twice, thrice, then one more that's longer, a little more heated, but he wills himself away.

"Can you put the mask on for me?"

Your eyes are staring up at him, so big and wide, you're clearly eager to please, hence why you don't question it and instead nod, leaning up to kiss him one more time before you're pulling the mask over your head, prepared for whatever Ethan has planned.

[wastingawayinmyroom]

When they kiss, it's a tangle of tongues and teeth, fighting for dominance in the darkness.

"Lit—" Apollo's hands tighten in his dark curls, pulling him closer against his better judgement. He gasps. "Don't."

Lityerses pulls back. Watches him, like a predator watched prey. "You're the god of prophecy," he says.

Apollo fixes his eyes on the soft curve of his mouth, taking it in like a starving man. "Tell me how this ends, Apollo."

Apollo shakes his head. Looks down. "I don't want this to end," he says, and he knows he's being a selfish fuck, but he continues. "I don't want this to end, I want you forever—"

Lityerses pushes his chest gently, but enough to catch his attention. "Tell me."

Apollo breathes in deeply. 1, 2, 3. "Badly," he says. "In every universe."

Lityerses smiles. "Then destroy me."

[bloos-bloo]

So like I’ve been thinking a lot about Bad’s lore, especially from the stream earlier this week:

Imagine Dapper waking up in the middle of the night, the nightmares that plague her mind about the months she had to spend in the forest and at egg island. The things she had to do in order for her siblings to survive, in order for them to see their parents once again. The way she had to find comfort in the audio recordings of Bad’s voice singing ’You are my sunshine’

The idea of never hearing his voice again in person.

Imagine waking up from that to see his father gone. It’s terrifying, he’s in a new place, a place that’s not secure, a place that’s filled with new mobs, a place where he has no good protection to keep him safe. The thought of losing her dad like that, it’s horrifying.

Imagine her rushing out of bed, barely putting on her boots and checking the farms. Checking her makeshift kitchen outside. Checking the storage room downstairs. Next thing she knows, he’s climbing to the roof of her house, tears streaming down her face as she looks through her eyeglass, looking over the vast ocean, the pirate ship catching an ounce of warm orange glow as the sun crept in, waiting to see that familiar demon coming to embrace her with open arms.

And nothing, just an empty flower field. Purples and pinks. Not him, not him. As the sun appeared over the horizon, so did a figure. She nearly thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Nearly mistaking the silhouette for the crane walking by in the early morning sun.

Feeling defeated, he slowly climbed down from the roof. Suddenly, she spots movement in the corner of her eye. His head nearly giving him whiplash as his eyeglass darted towards it.

A flowing black coat trailing behind, the oh so familiar white eyes, the long elegant tail that always swished gently across the grass.

Imagine Dapper leaping for joy and feeling relieved as her anxieties melt away. Leaping towards her father’s arm.

Only for him to stare at the child. A glossy dazed look glued onto his supposedly cheerful expression. Half of his face looking like he was splashed with light blue iridescent paint with a matching backside.

Imagine the fear that sunk into her heart as he heard his father’s voice confidently speaking-

“I’m looking for my son, Dapper. Have you seen him?”

Don’t imagine the one silent tear trail down her face, her anxieties slowly being brought into fruition.

Her nightmares no longer dreams, but a slow decent into reality.

‘It’s me! Your son!’ Her hands shook as she held up her sign.

Please don’t forget me-

[rileyh20]

Literally the only thing making me not kill myself rn is y'all

I am not having it

STOP BEING NICE

[violentdick]

-source: Detective Comics #68-

Weapon of Choice: Just a little matchplay with a man who, lets be honest deserved worse than this.