#once in a blue moon thing

[filbosstalker]

3 am doodle dump idk I kinda blacked out tbh

Ok goodnight chat 🫡🫡

[apthepotat]

Narrator AP

If my Sona

this one right here

was in my silly friend’s @icedvio LoreCOMP and was one of the narrators there,I like to think this is how she’d look like:

with and without coat (the fur is always a necessity)

i always wanted to use some of my outfits and accessories as inspiration for my characters/Sona designs- so I based the fur coat off of mine that I own irl :D

this is the first time in forever that I drew and coloured and I didn’t even lineart or shade it SO JUST TAKE what I have

LoreCOMP belongs to @icedvio,check out his Ocs and designs he does incredible :D!!

sona is- well,my sona belongs to me no duh 💀

background from Ibispaint this took me almost three hours in one sitting but I had a lot of fun!!

[clearlyaginger]

Demisexual? No, you misheard. I said Dummysexual. I'm attracted to that moron over there. Look at them. They just tripped over nothing and set the house on fire. I'm in love.

[tiger-grace]

I think Alfred is constantly dreaming about retirement but is shackled by the knowledge that he is the glue holding this barely functional family together

Alfred: sir I really don’t think

Bruce: why not. why should I not invest millions into funding a therapy corporation that Jason will ACTUALLY be able to trust

Alfred: quite honestly sir I think if it says “wayne” on it he’s 10 times less likely to go

Tim and Damian kicking the hell out of eachother rolling around on the floor: (unintelligible screaming, glass breaking, various cartoon crashing sound effects)

Alfred: (stares into batcamera like he’s in an office episode with several decades worth of exhaustion)

[somnas-writes]

Hc that by Illyrian standards Azriel is considered unattractive.

Illyrians are a more practical group, they’re strong and have traditions they want to follow. They live in cold mountains in camps. Strength and endurance is a top quality, and while Azriel embodies this— He doesn’t look it.

Illyrians want someone whose body reflects their strength. Huge arms, wide wings, tall and bearing tokens of war (scars but not too many scars because that then signifies defeat). Azriel is trained for reconnaissance. His job is to be unnoticeable, being a huge hulking figure doesn’t make that easy. He’s tall and large yes, but he’s not that ideal Illyrian man. Hes just slimmer that average and plays sneaky. Not the big bold way that they believe is honorable. So by the cultures standards, he’s not attractive.

Cassian and Rhys both know this, that their sworn brother is considered “unattractive” by their peers. They never really think about it because that’s their brother, you don’t go around agreeing that your partner in crime is ugly. (Also because he could totally kick their asses and hey you don’t call the guy who is covered in conscious shadows ugly)

It becomes irrelevant as azriel ends up sticking to his job and doesn’t have to often interact with large groups of Illyrians (that gets to be Cassians job).

On the flip side, other groups of fae need that man CARNALLY. What makes him unideal in Illyrian standards makes him the perfect man in theirs. Strong beyond what they could achieve, skilled, quick witted and mysterious—he’s a 10/10.

Rhys learns about this after Azriel makes a rare appearance at a large event to let Rhys know about a new development in one of his missions, the crowd immediately hones in on this hunk of a man. Later, Rhys has to deflect multiple offers of marriage from court nobles.

[artful-alchemist]

This started with “Dean totally has orange cat energy” and just kept going and now I’ve lost all control???? Also nobody tells you cat anatomy is WEIRD. Why so bendy???

Special thanks to @lordcrowcifer for his suggestions for Crowley & Gabriel! (He made a strong case with the perfect photo of an angery looking Scottish Fold 😂)

More suggestions are, of course, welcomed because I have nothing better to do than draw dudes in plaid as cats. Breeds under the cut >>>

Dean - Orange Tabby Sam - Somali Bobby - American Bobtail Cas - Bombay Crowley - Scottish Fold Gabriel - Oriental Shorthair

[loveisalie-lie]

'A bunch of words, but it started with 'Rest.'

[faunandfloraas]

fav skz // Canteen! Canteen! Canteen!

[tau-centi]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompts in Memes 7

[maryymaruu]

Artsy friends~

[violent138]

Occasionally Jason decides to start recounting some past experience but loses interest and gets so repulsed by the idea of continuing that he does a 180 and announces it was just a joke.

Dick, who's been intently listening, narrows his eyes at that and both of them sit there, staring at each other.

"Do you want to order food?"

"I can go pick it up."

"Yeah sure man, sounds good to me." And they don't talk about it again unless they have to.

[whump-card]

Collars........ also collarbones.

[dustbunsinspace]

Chatty boyfriend 💙💙 Quick redraw of something from last year. It was fun to see how my style changed.

💙Redbubble💙

Alts and old version under the cut 🍊;

[nivea-ah]

kiss kiss fall in love 😍

[wildmoonatic]

eating up ur captain design............ /pos

can i ask how pico and captain met in your au (i think its an au anyway)?

very canon adjacent, but it's an au, yeah. my friend and i's funky little universe just to the left of canon where we take things too seriously, you feel me

short version: they happened to meet at a cop shop while pico was waiting for (yet another) police interrogation, weeks to a month after the events of pico's school. john took an interest in pico and offered, mostly as a joke, to teach pico how to handle a gun properly. what was supposed to be a one-off lesson for a quick bit of entertainment turned into regular practice sessions and accidental (but immediate) emotional attachment from both parties. whoops!

and if you'll indulge me, here's the long version, because it's been brewing in my brain recently and i guess my hand slipped

(WARNING: descriptions of and vague flashbacks to the events of pico's school)

💚💚💚💚💚

The police station was usually quiet at this time of day. Idle tapping of fingers against a keyboard, muffled sounds of cars passing outside or of people talking in another room, none obtrusive enough to disturb the thoughts swirling in his head.

Now though, he was entirely preoccupied by annoyance.

Shut up. Why are you so loud? If you don't like pigs, why did you even come in here?

Pico had seen the strange man in black from the corner of his eye, swaggering in like he owned the place, only to start chatting to the receptionist with all the warm familiarity of two former classmates who never really liked each other very much. Derisive whispers in Pico's head grew louder in concert with his rising stress, adding to the noise, birthing a cacophony he couldn't escape from.

The man went quiet, and for a brief moment, Pico was sure he felt eyes on him. His own gaze stayed firmly on his sneakers.

The receptionist finally piped up with something other than a disinterested hum. "That's, uh, that Pico kid. Pico Fulp?"

"Ohh, so you're the kid who shot up his school."

Pico's head snapped up.

In an instant, his vision was dyed red, blood running so hot it threatened to burn him up from the inside. He didn't know when he got to his feet, but he was already taking steps toward the man.

"It wasn't me!" he snarled, words bubbling up and bursting out before he could stop them. "It wasn't! Watch your fucking mouth or I'll break your jaw, you stupid—"

"I got it, kid, calm down," the man talked him down, in a far more stern tone than Pico had been ready for, stopping him in his tracks. Matter-of-factly, he added: "I don't care how tough you are, you've got another thing coming if you think you can break any bone in my body."

Pico grit his teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

The white-hot fire of rage burnt out almost as quickly as it ignited, his little body only growing colder as he actually looked at the man standing before him, red giving way to black and white.

Tall and broad-shouldered, wearing sunglasses so dark it was almost impossible to see the inscrutable eyes behind them. He was uniformed — the army, not the police. Which rank was the three stripes for? Was the 'Captain' on the tag his rank, or his name?

Pico dared to speak up again. "It wasn't me," he repeated, far softer than before.

Captain turned bodily to face him. "I heard you the first time. So, what did you actually do?"

He looked away again, wringing his freshly scarred hands. "I... I stopped it, sir. I killed the shooters."

The slight movement of Captain's eyebrows snared the corner of Pico's vision. "Really now?"

"I... I found a big gun in the janitor's closet, they must've stashed it in there," the words spilled forth, as if he were back in that vile interrogation room already. "So I took it, and I shot them. All of them. There were four, a-and I didn't even know what I was doing, I was scared out of my mind, I'd never held a gun before in my life, I don't know how I—"

"You've never used a gun, but you still managed to take down four armed threats all by yourself?" There was a note of interest in Captain's voice, despite him crossing his arms.

Pico swallowed thickly.

"Please leave me alone!"

"I was told to just scare you! I wasn't gonna kill you!"

"...Two of them weren't moving, sir. I'd disarmed them, and they were afraid..."

Captain hummed. "Right. And the other two?"

No answer. Memories of callous men in blue giving him withering looks or laughing in his face when he told the truth kept his jaw clamped shut.

Captain lifted his head, looking around the otherwise empty room. "Where are your parents?"

A half-hearted shrug. "They don't want anything to do with me right now, sir."

They never did in the first place.

The soldier's thick eyebrows furrowed, but for the life of him, Pico wasn't sure what it meant. The man was as easy to read as a book with all its pages glued together. That, or he was just illiterate.

"I probably only lived because we were all just kids who barely knew what we were doing," Pico found himself saying, as if he hadn't also slaughtered a giant alien that day — Cassandra had been young and inexperienced in her own way, too. "If something like that happened again, I… I dunno."

Captain said nothing, just staring down at him, seeming thoughtful.

Silence fell over the room for a long moment, disturbed faintly by the nasty voices Pico had learned only he could hear. When the man's voice broke through the murmurs again, it hardly sounded any kinder.

"Look, if I were you, I'd stop pissing myself and go get some actual experience under my belt."

"But—"

He wasn't done. "You know where the gun range is, right? The one five minutes north of here? Meet me there at thirteen-hundred tomorrow. Even a minute late and the offer expires, got it?"

…What?

Pico lifted his gaze to meet Captain's, incredulous. "You mean... But, why would you help me?"

It was Captain's turn to offer a lazy shrug. "I'm bored outta my skull, and this is the most entertainment I've gotten in months."

He said that, but he didn't look very amused. Besides, a soldier like him surely didn't have time to waste on such petty entertainment as watching a child grappling with fear. Pico tried scrutinizing the man's face for a moment longer, unsure what he was even searching for, but quickly found himself at a loss.

The easy answer was that it was a genuine offer to help, to teach him how to properly handle a firearm and put that aspect of his trepidation to rest. Pico wasn't sure if he believed that, but for some reason, he really hoped it was true. That would mean that Captain saw something in him, something more than the unfortunate kid and murderer that the other adults saw, something worth taking a chance on.

Nice. This man, a total stranger, was being nice.

When was the last time anyone said something nice to him?

(Weeks ago, in a sterile hospital room, two hands gently clasping one of his own, their owner smiling in spite of the anxiety behind those pretty black eyes, the sweetest voice Pico had ever heard telling him over and over how everything was going to be okay—)

Pico shook his head, as if he could physically clear the memory away.

He's gone now. Stop thinking about him.

By the time Pico dragged himself back to the present, Captain was already on the way out, muttering something about the stench of hogs. Pico watched him walk away, until he disappeared from view.

"Prick," the receptionist muttered, returning their attention to their computer.

With little else to do, Pico returned to his seat. His own thoughts quickly took center stage as usual, but they were different now, looking tentatively to the future, rather than the bloody memories that tugged insistently at his back.

It had been a while since he had something to look forward to.