#fanfiction counts as art

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[rabid-transcendentalist]

I'm going to wear this in public one day and give someone a heart attack

But for now it's just a sticker

[ghost-bxrd]

@shiny-snek here’s the size comparison you asked for! I had to rescale Nightwing and the little dragon a bit because I realized they didn’t match the pictures and what I had in mind. So, thanks for requesting the comparison! Definitely made me aware of some flaws hehehe 💚💚💚

[natabatts]

Art for chapter 1 of my NPMD fic: In Another Universe! I’ve been blown away by the positive response on it so thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos <3

closeups under the cut :3

[quona]

fires beyond the lychgate --- --- ---

prints | ko-fi | commission

May I interest you in some Beltane-themed witchy pollen magic? Revelers dancing around May Day bonfires in the woods? How about we add some lust-addled Crowley and sweaty Priest!Aziraphale to that, too? Yes? I thought so! I painted this for the Spring is Here! High Pollen Count Event in collaboration with the absolutely fantastic @tawnyontumblr. I know you know Tawny's fics. I don't need to tell you how good they are. You can and should go read the fic that inspired this painting on AO3: 🔥 All Fired Up by TawnyOwl95 🔥 (Rated Explicit, mind the tags!)

The trunk of the birch tree was smooth against Aziraphale's back. He held on to one of the branches above his head, getting bark dust in his nails as Crowley sucked on his jaw. The last of Aziraphale’s buttons came open, his shirt now only held in place by his clerical collar. Crowley's hands moved down, and Aziraphale's belt hissed as it was drawn from its loops. If Aziraphale turned his head he could still see the fire flickering through the trees, the shadows flitting back and forth. If someone came this way - Aziraphale didn't care. His mind was full of Crowley. The drums still beat in time with the blood pounding, rising up as Crowley's mouth coaxed it to the surface of Aziraphale's skin, fed on him like a starving man.

The full piece:

...and some detail shots from the high res:

@goodomensafterdark, love you goblins, hope you like my art.

[adverbian]

Is This Desire?

a Good Omens fic by @adverbian with art by @ineffableigh

created for the High Pollen Count 2024 Good Omens Sex Pollen Event!

(Note: Uncropped version of art by @ineffableigh embedded about halfway through Chapter 1 — scroll with caution!)

Explicit; 15.5k words; 2/2 chapters

Mind the tags: Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die (more tags on AO3)

Excerpt:

Aziraphale arranged himself against the black silk pillows, all pink and cream and pale gold, spreading himself out like the kind of erotic photograph that Crowley hadn't seen since the reign of Queen Victoria. There was a lush Dieffenbachia seguine beside the bed, its supple green leaves broad enough to wrap around one of Aziraphale's luscious thighs. A Tradescantia pallida trailed overhead, all imperial purple, rich as the wine they'd drunk in Rome. Aziraphale looked like a fantasy draped in a tropical paradise. Crowley wanted to taste every inch of him, slowly.

I won't lay a finger on you, angel. Not like this.

Read and see more on AO3!

(Tagging my wonderful co-mods @malachitegrey and @voluptatiscausa !)

[ibrithir-was-here]

Blood of My Blood: “What Dreams May Come” Part 2

Part 1

Part 3

Thanks again to @animate-mush and @see-arcane for helping with script!

(Ok part three might not be as fast I gotta rest my hand over the weekend but I’ve got it all lined out!)

[artificial-absinthe]

These are my pieces for the tf big bang. I was paired with the talented @vsphelix , who wrote this absolutely fascinating story, worthy of the best sci fi genre and as complex and solid that would make for an admirable script. You cannot die without reading it!

Even in the relationship is not your glass of wine, don't let that dissuade you, it's only implied, distant and platonic *

(more pages and link to the writing below the cut)

Last to Follow (3011 words) by ARTificial_Absinthe, vsphelix

Chapters: 1/5

Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Megatron/Soundwave (Transformers)

Characters: Soundwave (Transformers), Tarn (Transformers), Megatron (Transformers), Decepticon Justice Division, Ravage (Transformers), Laserbeak (Transformers), Minicons (Transformers)

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Cybertronian Civil War, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), RID2015 never happened, Fugitives, Major Illness, Flashbacks, Ideology, Illustrations

Summary:

The war is over. The Decepticons are no more. Megatron has fallen mortally ill, and the jaws of Autobot retribution are closing in.

Soundwave will never abandon his leader.

Tarn rejects the dissolution of his Cause.

When their paths intersect, Soundwave clashes with the DJD in the ultimate test of loyalty.

A last page of the prompt comic and additional art will be added in the following days with each superb chapter.

You'll have to have an ao3 account, since the work had to be locked due to scraping.

[nerdacious]

To commemorate the anniversary of Partners and Paper Trails, I commissioned the wonderful, amazing @koreplus to depict a scene from the fic! It's so cool to see Harry's mural come to life!

I still can't believe it's only been a year since I posted the first chapter. I've met so many amazing people online because of it and I'm so thankful for all of you!

[lavaflowe]

Commission for @xxtheturtlefromhellxx !! It’s from their super cool fic you guys should totally read ✨✨✨✨

[staghunters]

GOT GAMES ON YOUR PHONE?

Why yes I do, and so can you! Hey, I've been working on a lil fanfiction game, I guess, of which the first demo is ready to be played! All that you need to know is explained no the Itch page, or in the game itself, but have some screenshots for an impression.

This thing can be played on the Itch page, on pc and on mobile, and will autosave wherever you keep it. If you got feedback then be sure to let me know!

It's gonna be longer until the rest follows, since releasing it chapter by chapter isn't manageable with all the choices you can make. Anyways, I hope it is fun so far.

Cheers! :)

[naegleria-nfowleri]

Back to High Pollen Count event with another collab, this time with @mikaaccidentaldemon!

I was so excited, and had so much fun working with them again 💙💙💙

If you like this fic, please consider checking out Mika's AO3 and their Twitter!

Somewhere Between Love and Abuse (E, 9588 words)

TW/CW: Dubcon because of pollen.

(Fic contains 3 pieces of NSFW art)

"You have to know how much this pains me, Aziraphale. I had such high hopes for you! I thought you would rise to the occasion, once I removed you from earth and its temptations, not to mention that demon’s harmful influence. I am severely disappointed. But it doesn't matter. It’s already done. What do you think was in the tea you just drank?" ------------- The Metatron decides it's time for some drastic measures.

[dontyoufeelitangel]

Well thought out villains with incredible backstories being turned into children’s toys:

They look so stupid I love it😭🫶

Omg😭 what’s got maul so mad☹️☹️ he’s plotting something,,

His horns being little nubs will never not be funny

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 8!!

I see your votes everyone, and I hear your voices. But before I can, in good conscience, place us in Heathrow, I need to share this with you.

Beginning|| Previous || Next

******************

In the end, convincing Aziraphale (who, surprise surprise, had never flown on a plane) that First Class was the way to go wasn’t all that hard.

“Otherwise you fly all cramped with hundreds of other people!” You say. Crowley nods.

“Mmmmm yes,” the demon agrees, “Imagine being elbow-to-elbow with all those humans. Feet in your face, children kicking the back of your seat, sharing an armrest!”

“I rather like humans though,” says Azirphale, even though he looks a little pale at the mention of armrests, “And I would be next to you anyway.”

“What about the humans who haven’t showered for days?” You ask, “How long has it been since the last time you were near one person, nevermind a hundred-ish, who didn’t follow basic hygiene practices? A few hundred years?”

Aziraphale’s face falls. Crowley chimes in.

“Oh yes, just imagine all the sweat and grease from the airport food.”

“And then there are the babies that travel. I mean, their ears pop when the plane takes off and when it lands, and they only really have one coping strategy.”

“Aaah,” Crowley says, “The crying babes! Think of all the crying babies and no escape! Not for hours and hours and hours.”

“And then,” You say, “There’s the in-flight meal.” Here, you seem to have struck a cord. Duh, you should have led with this. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? They serve food?”

“Psh,” You say, “If you can call it that. They ask you if you want chicken or vegetarian, and then they plop a cardboard box with a film top in front of you.”

“It’s dreadful,” agrees Crowley, “All bland and clearly frozen and warmed up in a microwave.”

“And if you’re lucky, you can tell that it’s meant to be a sandwich,” You add.

“Supposing you can tell that it’s food at all!” Crowley says with a nod, “And their wine list is small potatoes.”

“Small bland potatoes,” You say, “If you can call them potatoes at all – served in the tiniest bottles and the tiniest glasses you ever did see.”

You noticed Aziraphale’s eye twitch ever so slightly.

“And in First Class they...they serve actual food and wine, do they?”

“Oh yeah,” You say, “with proper service and cloth napkins and everything. Most of the airline websites say that the food’s prepared by an actual chef.”

“And the glasses are normal sizes, and made of actual glass,” adds Crowley for good measure. Aziraphale hums.

“Yes, fine. Clearly First Class is the only acceptable way to travel.” He leaves the room. You hear the kettle turn on. He probably needs some tea to calm his nerves after hearing all that. You turn to Crowley.

“So you’ve gone on a plane before, huh? Did you invent the food? I would not be surprised if you did.”

“Me?” Crowley says, “Naaaah. Never flown on a plane. Never needed to. But I know a bit of fun when I see it.”

You look up at him and sigh, cradling your chin in your hands for effect.

“It really is no wonder why Aziraphale loves you so much.”

“Ngk,” Crowley says, his ears turning pink.

-----

And now, dear Reader, we arrive at Heathrow. Anathema and Newt had met you at the bookshop, and the four of you drove over together in the Bentley after bidding Newt and Muriel goodbye. You spend the entire wait in line at airport security feeling nervous. Airport security is always a test for your nerves to begin with, but this time you have no passport or paperwork of any kind to twiddle in your hands to take the edge off. Instead, you fidget relentlessly with the button in your pocket (Muriel, being an observant and kind soul, had given you a large-ish green button to put in your pocket “Because you seem nervous, and it looked like it helped you last time.” You swear if anyone harms your new best friend while you’re gone you will end them). The line goes quicker than you would like, and when it gets to be your turn, honestly you’re not sure what happens. It all goes smoothly. Did Aziraphale and Crowley miracle you a passport? Did they click a finger or wave a hand to convince the guard that everything was in order? You have no idea, because you’re too focused on your nerves and Trying Not To Look Suspicious While Worrying That This Makes You Look More Suspicious Than You Would If You Could Just Be Normal About This (if you know the feeling, you know why it gets to be capitalized like that).

Once the stress of airport security is done, you head to the bathroom for a break from the chaos so that you can figure out how to breathe again. Normally, you wouldn’t be That Person to occupy the Accessible Washroom, but since you are desperately trying not to have a panic attack because of all the pent-up anxiety from the whole airport security thing, you decide that you Really Cannot Do People Right Now, and that the single-occupant washroom may be your saving grace. You lock the door and sigh, leaning against the cold metal. It’s comparatively quiet here, and you’re grateful for it. Thank Someone. You resolve to try not to be too long in case someone who actually needs this washroom comes by (although I’m gonna be honest here, reader, right now you need this room for invisible accessibility/health reasons). After a minute or two, you are finally starting to feel your anxiety return to a manageable level. Everything is okay. You are traveling with the most ideal companions you could ever dream of, and the worst part is over. Everything from here on out is smooth sailing.

Except, dear reader, you all voted. And So It Shall Be.

You’ve just finished drying your hands.

“Aah,” says a voice behind you. You jump a solid 3 feet in the air. “I thought I might find you here.”

“HOLY! FUCKING! ZOMBIE! JESUS!!!” You sputter.

“Mind your manners, human.”

“Manners?? ME?? This is a WASHROOM.”

The Metatron looks at you blankly and shrugs. Ah yes, the biggest jerk in Heaven doesn’t know or care about washrooms or privacy. Or actually being polite.

“I merely wanted to have a word with you. Away from the others, of course.”

“Yeeeaaaaah,” You say. You’ve seen a million movies (approximate), and read a million books (also approximate), you know what this is. This is the maybe we can still solve this problem quietly plot. And you know that actually having the conversation is a bad idea. “I don’t think so.”

You reach for thee door. It’s locked, and it won’t unlock. Of course. You (gently) pound your head against the door, before turning to face Metatron. You take a breath, and answer as calmly as you can given how angry you are.

“What. Do you want?”

“I merely hoped that we could agree upon...an arrangement.”

“Pretty sure I made it clear back at the bookshop that I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”

“Oh dear, no. This has nothing to do with the demon or with Aziraphale. This is about you.”

You mentally brace yourself. Here comes the manipulation. You inwardly remind yourself of the tropes of villain manipulation and all the things you’ve ever shouted at the tv screen after one of these interactions. You need to be prepared, because apparently you need to play this out. And so, you give him the response he clearly wants.

“What about me?”

“Well, my dear, I only thought that perhaps you might like to go home.”

“Ha! Nice try.”

“You have no desire to return to your family? Your friends? Your life?”

“Not right now, thanks.”

“And you think you’ll get a similar offer later?”

“I mean...well yeah. I don’t know whether I would actually want to go back yet but --”

“You think Aziraphale and his associates will want to keep you as their pet forever? My dear, they only entertain you right now because you’re useful to them.”

Okay, I mean you knew that already but still. Ouch. Hearing it out loud is just...Ouch. Unfortunately, you do not have the Acting Prowess of either Michael Sheen or David Tennant, and so the Metatron sees the Ouch. He smiles kindly.

“Here, you are merely a tool,” he continues, voice smooth as honey, “And back home there are people who love you and value your presence in their lives. Back home there are people who miss you purely because you are you. Here, you are well, a convenience. A help. But that’s all. And once this is all over, there is no promise, no guarantee that you would be able to return. And no reason for Aziraphale to keep you. You would need to start again, and since you needed the help of an angel to get through airport security, I’m guessing that would be very difficult for you. And then, of course, there’s your immortal soul to be concerned about once the Final Judgment comes to pass.”

You ignore the bait, even though it stings. Take a breath. You’ve got this.

“That’s all irrelevant right now,” You say.

“Is it? It seems that you’re….what’s that charming human expression? Flying by the seat of your pants?” He chuckles at his own joke. You smile awkwardly. Well, yes you are, but the heroes in stories do all the time. They figure it out as they go. You are doing no worse than any of them. You don’t find the joke so funny. And frankly his laughter is unsettling.

“Um...” You start uncertainly, “Well if that’s all, then can I go now?”

“In a moment,” the Metatron says smugly. Oh you hate that he has so much control right now. “First I would like to extend to you the offer of some help. I would like to see you home safely, at a time of your choosing. Whenever you feel that you are ready.”

“And you have the power to do that, do you?” You’re skeptical.

“I have the power of all Creation at my disposal.”

“Riiiiight. Just out of the goodness of your own angelic heart. That’s very kind of you Metatron.” You’re not sure if he hears the edge of sarcasm. He shrugs regardless.

“There is of course, one and only one thing I would like from you if you decide to take my help.”

“Oooooof course there is. I’m not letting you near Aziraphale and Crowley.”

“Once again, my dear, this has nothing to do with them. All I would like is to know why your first instinct was to take that coffee. The full truth, mind you. None of that sarcasm or loophole nonsense that you humans are so fond of. And do not be foolish enough to think I can’t tell the difference.” He looks at you pointedly.

That’s...a suspiciously innocuous request. But then again, it usually is with these sort of things, isn’t it? You feign non-chalance and tap your foot for emphasis.

“Are you done yet?” You ask obstinately. The door unlocks audibly behind you.

“Just think about it,” says the Metatron, “No rush.”

Oh yes there is one. You rush to open the door. Never before have you felt so relieved to be in a crowded place.

Don't worry about airplane route logistics or whether or not you can actually get a direct flight from Heathrow to Orlando. Just vote for whatever you would like :)

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning|| Previous || Next

[the-ninjago-historian]

Just finished this concept of Cole's Grandpa from Into The Deep! Man, drawing Lego is HARD. Those hands and leg were a real pain in the neck. But I think it turned out alright. Also, this design isn't final. So changes will probably happen.

(Tag List: @shatteredhope123 @nocturnal-nexu @dexter-the-dog @aroninshonour @piereoglyphics 😁👋)

Want to be added to the tag list? Just ask! That way you can stay updated on Ninjago: Into The Deep all the time!

EDIT: I almost forgot. You might want to take a closer look at that necklace around his neck. It's very important.👀

[verynormalandsaneaccount]

TW: minor stylized the depiction of blood, Death, Hermitshipping???

Death 2.0

Fanart of a Fic? Don't mind if i do! (This is for "Nobody Feels Like You" by lovesickprince on ao3 because the last 2 chapters broke me. It is rly good tho) Tried drawing a bit angstier? Sadder? make it really feel empty and desolate. There were other people around evidently but they really didn't matter.