#whats the main tag idk lmao

[jazbell]

Stargazing - 1

little comic based on the stargazing scene from ts!underswap! i really love this fangame i cant wait for the full version :3

part 1 | part 2

[necrotic-nephilim]

anyway the most frustrating thing about Gretchen Felker-Martin's upcoming Red Hood run is how it feels next to impossible to express potential concerns over the run without immediately having your take bandwagoned and twisted by people who are running with the most bad faith interpretation possible of every single thing she says or does and refusing to give even a shred of a benefit of the doubt to a comic that, i cannot stress this enough, *is not out yet.*

i recently posted about my tentative excitement for the run and by and large, i do stand by what i said in that post. i still think GFM's novels are great works, i still think Beast World wasn't the worst Jason comic, and i still think the concepts for the run sound interesting. but given her recent interview and some reason bluesky posts, my excitement is certainly more hedged, i won't pretend otherwise. but it's wildly frustrating to see people twist her words in the worst way possible and share out of context screenshots of the interview they clearly haven't even read. how am i supposed to expect this fandom to read her run with an open mind if they can't read an *interview* to form their own opinion? any shred of valid criticism/concern is immediately muddled by misgyony and transphobia and people doing full on acrobatics to make assumptions about GFM and her run. am i concerned she hasn't read any Red Hood comics or Huntress comics? yes. am i concerned her frame of reference for Helena seems to be that god awful Birds of Prey movie? yes. and am i concerned that she doesn't seem to understand the root of either of these characters? also yes.

but given the fact these two characters literally cannot get any worse? i don't know what you think GFM is going to do, exactly. Jason and Helena have both been at rock bottom for characterization for literal decades. and i can't help but feel male/cishet writers don't get half of this heat for their garbage takes on these characters that set them so far back in the first place. GFM's run might be great, it might be garbage, but it's likely not going to be able to return either of these characters to their "peak era" that fans worship, which atp, was nearly 20 years ago, which seems to be the only thing fans of either character want in order to be appeased and not rip GFM to shreds.

i just can't help but feel like this fandom is setting GFM up to be this generation's Devin Grayson. ie: the queer woman who is their lamb to slaughter to lay every bad writing/character choice for the next ten years onto, regardless of her control and/or involvement of the choices. with the even deeper irony being that Devin Grayson's mythical Nightwing run was *actually good*, most people just either didn't read it, or read only the notorious highlights in incredibly bad faith. it seems like GFM has no room for mediocrity here. unless her run is literally perfection, you're all going to rip her to shreds for it and jump at the bit to be transphobic/misogynistic in ways that aren't even subtle.

[spinostarz]

i was never able to get her face quite right

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

i've been very far home, my heart | nightowl (blooming panic)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags; established relationship, hurt/comfort, feelings of inadequacy / low self worth, gn!reader (they wear heels and have manicured nails, but otherwise nondescript. no gendered language), role reversal, arguing / messy human behavior, suggestive towards the end, they are implied to be the same height 🫡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ wc ; 3.7k (added 500 to wc in editing. ok)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n ; bro idk what happened here FDHJDKDKJ. my sleep meds were making me feel super hungover, i got a little cooked on the devils lettuce and then wrote this?? and it wasn't bad lmaoaoa??

i really like this blonde twink ive known for three days. he is like. so extremely, hilariously my type and exactly like several ppl i've dated so this end up being a reflective piece on being a giver n navigating adult relationships.

title is from where we go by jelani aryeh

The bathroom light is on.

It’s spilling underneath the door frame when you come in from work later than usual. It’s busy season, with new clientele - all of which require socializing around drinks and expensive dinners to secure them. It’s nearly 1am, and you’ve taken two Ubers to get back home from the restaurant all the way across town that you’ve been mingling at since nine.

You closed the deal though, and your boss (perhaps seeing the visible exhaustion in your eyes) has given you the go-ahead on taking a few days off. The consulting part of your financial advising job could wait until Monday, which was a relief to hear. You came home expecting Nightowl to be up. He’s always up this late, and when he is - he rarely limits himself to one room in the apartment. You have a routine to it. You sleep in the dark bedroom and Owl tries not to make so much noise as to wake you.

You texted him you’d be late, and he’d read it but didn’t reply. Too worn down to think anything of It at the time, you slept on two car rides rather irresponsibly and were unsure of what to feel when your apartment didn’t have any lights from the outside upon arrival. Youwalked in after that, wondering if your eyes had been playing tricks. But the house was still dark, both upstairs and down stairs - in the bedroom and in the office. The only place you could find any trace of life was in the bathroom.

You’ve only left your bag on the couch downstairs. Worry makes your brows furrow as you turn the door knob to your shared bathroom and walk in. The clinical scent of bleach is the first thing to grasp your senses, jolting you awake from the haze of steam and leftover buzz of alcohol.

You cough a little, and find Nightowl on the bathroom floor. There’s a bottle of peach soju on the counter, and a few open packets of developer and mixing bowls. Owl is drunk already you think, or at the very least tipsy, moreso than you. The hot blush on his skin makes you think he’s been at it for a while. You try not to monitor his liquor intake too much, but the concern you feel is immediate and not helped by where you find him.

His body is slumped against the gray wall closes to the tub, sitting on the tile with a different bottle in his hand. His phone is face down beside him and he’s not noticed you come in. Your frown deepens as your heels click slightly on the tile. Crouching down at the knee, you reach your hand out for his forehead. His skin is so hot it’s scorching. You sober up almost instantly.

Even in his inebriated state, he seems to recognize you. His smile is wide, but you don’t feel like it reaches his eyes.

“Oh, so you decided to come home after all!”

You smile sadly followed with a curt nod. “Sorry.”

“Don’t really see what the point is in you apologizing when you’ve already been so late,” He says jovial. You try not to let it sting. You remind yourself that he’s drunk and stifle a sigh again. “But welcome home!”

“Were you gonna bleach your hair?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Yeah,” You reply, choosing to sigh that time. His lip wobbles a little and you try not to say anything more. “Do you want help?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

You mumble something about being right back and Nightowl hums in affirmation. A feeling washes over you. Bone-deep exhaustion crushing your lungs and making you wheeze when you step out of the bleach-scented bathroom. When you’re distance enough away that he won’t hear you - closer to your bedroom door, you breathe in and out, calming yourself down. After you feel more centered, you open your shared room door and take a stool from along the wall, bringing it with you into the bathroom. Nightowl doesn’t turn his head to look at you until you place it. Sharing a glance with each other, he gets up on his own and sits himself on the placed stool dramatically and you give him a weak smile through the mirror he doesn’t bother returning.

You’re quiet as you leave the door open a touch to make sure the steam doesn’t overheat you both. Shrugging off your suit jacket, you fold it and hang it on the towel racks behind you. You unbutton your sleeves and roll them into neat folds on both arms, and before digging into one of your bathroom drawers for plastic gloves. Sliding them onto your manicured fingers, you pick up the bowl of developer from the side of the counter and mix it using the provided brush until it’s all smooth.

Nightowl is unusually silent through the entire thing. If he weren’t fidgeting, you could barely tell he was there. It’s so difficult to see him that way. You try not to blame yourself too much.

“Gonna start,”

“Uh-huh,”

A longing passes over you in the warm, sterile air. The coolness from the A.C. in the rest of your apartment dries down the sheen of sweat your accumulated while out socializing. Your feet are killing you and your shoulders are aching and your lungs feel like you can’t get enough air out of them. That’s busy season for you. The price of your job with all of it’s stability and benefits is the annual stretch of months where you are so busy you feel like you are drowning.

It’s one thing to be so mind-numbingly busy when you’re single and only worried about not dying. Another though to have a partner waiting for you, who you love and would like to be with - who you’ve admittedly not done well in paying attention to. You’ve tried you think. Made some attempts, but it doesn’t feel good enough and it certainly isn’t enough for Nightowl. You know that, too. You look down at where your hands are applying the bleach, dazed - using only muscle memory to apply it to the roots and strands of his hair. You want to touch him. To press kisses into his spine, drunk and elated, and press your cheek to his shoulder and confess your undying love until he’s giggly all over again.

The thought of adoration soothes you. Makes you smile to yourself even amongst the unforgiving atmosphere. Nightowl doesn’t care for that, his face growing even more frustrated.

“Thought of something fun? Glad at least one of us is having a good time.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. He looks away when he sees how pained you look, and you shut your eyes trying not to react. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” He frowns, though he seems more sad than you.

“S—“ You clear your throat and laugh humorlessly at yourself. “Okay,”

You go about your business. Many things cross your mind but you can’t wrangle your thoughts into anything cohesive enough to say. Your jaw tightens a little, like your mouth wants to practice syllables it can’t remember. The distraction of rubbing bleach into Nightowls roots is welcome. His hair is a lot healthier than it used to be, after a year of forcing him to use hair masks. You admire as you brush through the strands, and Nightowl seems to lost in his own thoughts to say anything in protest. He probably hates this silence more than you. He’s uncharacteristically stiff, and there’s no smalltalk to distract from the surroundings.

You’re not feeling well enough to try and remedy it. Allowing yourself to stonewall and sit in the discomfort is about as much as you can do to reach a hand to your relationship. You probably can’t make it better, but you can do your best not to make it any worse.

“All done,” You mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. You slide the gloves off and toss them into the trash “We should sober up before bed. Hangover before bed sounds awful. Did you,” You hiccup. “Want some?”

He doesn’t reply to you. You press your lips into a flat line, feeling somewhat sorrowful but ultimately resigned. “I’ll make some anyway. And set a timer too while I’m down there. Just, uh - join me. When you’re done here.”

Before you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist. You’re taken aback by the sudden gesture (though there’s not force in it), turning around to look at him. His face is red. Wet tears pool on the corners of his straight, black lashes. Blinking a few times in surprise, you reach your hand to wipe them from the corners. Muscle memory. You find your love for him defined that way. He doesn’t flinch away from the touch, at least.

“Don’t you have something to say to me,” He insists. You frown in genuine confusion, a sad smile pulling at your mouth.

“Thought you told me to stop saying sorry,” You repeat with no malice, smiling a little. “That’s all I’ve got though.”

His lower lip trembles again and you try not to laugh. “God. How could you be so. God.” He sniffles a little. “You could cuss me out. Or like, I dunno, just get mad in general. You’re supposed to be mad, I was,” He cuts himself off.

You laugh a little tiredly, bending down to press your forehead to his. The flush of his skin against your own makes your heart murmur his name. “I don’t have anything to say, my heart.” You assure, smiling. “We’re both pretty tired. But I have tomorrow off. Let’s cool off and talk tomorrow. “Okay?”

“Okay,” He says back, still simmering. “As long as you’re here tomorrow.”

Your heart stings. “For the next two days, promise. I’ll toss my work phone if you want.”

He cracks a smile like that. “Might have to take you up on that, cutie.”

The familiar nickname eases you a bit, making you laugh. “Whatever you want.”

__

Morning comes unyielding and indifferent, like always.

Sunlight filters through the curtains as your eyes peel open and try to get adjusted to the light. There’s a weight on top of you, and the sound of steady breath. Another heartbeat thumps alongside yours and before you can make much sense of it - you catch the freshly yellow blond roots of your lover as he lays on your chest.

You went to bed last night not even facing each other. The image of him reaching around for you in his sleep and ending up in your arms feels like divine intervention. You admire how perfectly he fits there. Your eyes trace of his features. Thick, straight brows, skin like light gold, a straight nose and full lips. The shock of blonde suits him strangely, makes the dark lines of his other features pop. It’s rare you get to look at him so closely, even more so lately.

The intimacy of his flaws makes your stomach flutter, texture in his skin and eyebags and all. You crane your neck to kiss his hairline and think about returning to sleep in the cocoon of warmth. The cradle of soothes you, makes your eyelids heavy with sleep again. You think it’d be nice to sleep in more, but you don’t want to squander anymore time with Nightowl. Shifting, you pry yourself away from his grasp and tuck him into blankets. You’ll wake him later.

You’re quiet as you tiptoe around the house and get your affairs in order. The bathroom first to shower and brush your teeth, then downstairs to start on breakfast. You take the ritual of it to calm down and ease the leftover nerves of your stomach. It was better to save any conversation for sobriety - so you don’t regret it. Still, you feel a fear lingering. A nagging voice in the back of your head as you flip pancakes and cut fruit and pour juice.

The eerie silence of Saturday morning pushes you to reflect. It’s rare you fight like this. Even more rare that Nightowl reverts to that kind of angriness, which is why you find you can’t get upset. Not even the sound of sizzling and frying can keep your mind from wandering.

Inadequacy is familiar. An old winter jacket, too sizes too small and ill-fitting but full of your own personhood. One of the things you and Nightowl bonded over a long time ago.

You did well in school, in college, made a career for yourself. It’s making up for the rest of you, you think.

At least you’re good at your job, even if the rest of you is not worth mentioning. The ghost of feeling like you are, in some basic and intrinsic way, not good enough likes to shake you every now and again. Not friend, nor partner. It’s not something you easily get rid of, despite how far you’ve grown past it. Or around it. Or ahead of it. Wherever you’ve ended up, occasions come that knock the feeling loose from your deepest memories. You work hard to cover for it.

You like to logic your way out of the guilt when you’ve poured so much into it and people drift. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Usually that works. Tuck your emotions into neat compartments, throw yourself further into your work, don’t drink too heavily or be alone with anyone for too long. Ignore everything, do it by yourself so you’re still worth something, wait until it’s over. Eventually it all comes to pass, and you come out of the other end alive - but alone.

You can’t do that anymore though. It’s hard to remember that. Isolation is no longer the answer, because there is someone (multiple people, really) who will feel lonely without you. Even if it’s unfathomable to you, even if it’s hard to remember. The consequences creep up like this, and your left with the emotional void of making a bad situation worse. Sorry is the only word you know. There are so many things to be sorry for.

You’re so lost in thought you burn a pancake and have to toss it. You also seem to miss the presence of another person in your shared space until Nightowl comes and wraps his arms around your shoulders. Turning the heat down, you shift to face him. He looks exhausted but he must’ve come down after washing up.

“You’re awake.”

“Mhm.” He says, still sleepy. A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “So are you. And you’re making me breakfast.”

You laugh. “I am. So, go sit down.” And then, a little more serious. “We have a lot to talk about but I’d rather do it on a full stomach.”

“We’re in an argument and you’re still taking care of me.” Sadness bleeds into his words.

You reply without skipping a beat, going back to the stove to pour some more batter. “Well, its not like I don’t love you anymore.”

There’s a long, long pause of silence that alarms you once you recognize it. Once you hear sniffling, you whip around again to see Nightowl weeping a little as he leans against the counter. Alarms go off in your head, once again turning the stove down. You wrap your arms around his waist loosely, bending down to get a closer look at him. He’s cover his face with his hands.

“Ugh,” His voice is thick and heavy. “Can you not be so nice and perfect and angelic? I’m trying really hard to be mad at you and I’m failing like a loser.”

You can tell there’s some sincerity in his words, though you ignore the first half of his statement. “I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

He pulls away then, looks at you incredulous. “You’re so,” His hands curl at your chest as you hug him slightly. You’re confused but don’t say anything. “God, you’re so frustrating.”

“Sorry,” You say apologetically. “Don’t mean to make you cry either. Feel like I’m going that a lot. We should really eat.”

“Don’t want to,” He whines a little as he says. “Just. I want to kiss and makeup already.”

You smile a little before humming.

“We should talk about it, then.”

Nightowl just nods, and you take that as permission to just go. You do your best to get the words out.

“I really love you,” You say first, and then sigh. Nightowl clings onto you tighter and listens instead of interjecting, which must mean he’s feeling serious. “And uhm, was already feeling bad about myself. And then I got busy which made it worse cause I couldn’t really you know… be there for you, so I ended up pulling away to figure it out alone and then got even busier. Which was isolating for you, and I’m sorry for that. It’s hard to like.. I dunno. Lean on you. On anyone.” You laugh a little. “Is that too vague?”

“It makes sense to me but…what were you feeling bad about, even?”

“Well I was busy before that, so I just felt shitty about being a bad partner to you. In general, don’t feel like I deserve you but then you know,” You sigh “It was shitty of me.”

“Are you kidding me?” He says. His face is twisted in a pout. “You’re seriously being all mopey ‘cause you think you’re a bad partner when you’re like… literally the best ever? Like, that I’ve ever had?”

You’re too surprised to say anything. “Is that not why were arguing?”

“I mean,” His frown deepens, and he presses his face against your chest. “Ugh. So embarrassing. I am upset because you’re so busy and we haven’t spent time together but that’s like… totally not your fault, yknow? I’m being super clingy and I was just… really lonely yesterday.”

“Sorry for making you feel lonely.”

“Stop apologizing or I’m gonna bite you, ‘kay cutie?” He says seriously. You relent with a worrisome smile and encourage him to keep going. “I was getting like… all pathetic. Cause I thought you didn’t want me anymore, didn’t even occur to me something was wrong. I’m so sorry about that, about all of it - god. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you. I hate that it still gets so bad when we've been together so long. I just missed you so fucking much. And I think so highly of you, I couldn’t help but be all torn up about the idea that you were pulling away cause you didn’t want me.”

“I do want you. I’m just surprised you want me sometimes.”

“You’re dumb,” He whispers with no bite at all. “That’s my line. You’re like literally perfect to me.”

“So we got in a fight ‘cause we needed to be with each other,” You say with a long pause, then laugh. “How silly.”

“Guess so,” He says back with a little frown. “Are we okay?”

“We’re okay,”

You share a brief moment of comfortable, understanding silence. It feels easier to breathe. Even though it’s messy and foolish, you love being with him. It makes you feel real and whole - wanted to be missed that much.

“I missed you too by the way,” You reply with utmost sincerity. “Only thing I thought of all night was how much I wanted to hold you.”

“You’re making me blush.” He says with a loopy little smile. “Y’mean that?”

“More than anything.” You reply. “I like being with you. I like taking care of you. I like that you’re needy and jealous and temperamental.”

“Stopppp,” He groans and you laugh aloud, leaning forward to place a kiss on his jaw. “Not that I hate being told what you like about me but it’s making my tummy flutter.”

“I like loving you,” You say with some finality. “I feel really shitty when I feel like I’m failing at it because I take pride in being good at that.”

“Jeez,” His face is bright pink when you pull away. “You shouldn’t think of yourself so little, yanno? Not that this is a surprise but yesterday I was like, totally acting awful to you. I really am sorry I let it get that bad, I was just really worked up. Even right now you make me so happy, it feels a little unfair to me. I want to be with you all the time. So sometimes when I can’t I just get like… awful. And stupid. And want to throw a bunch of dumb tantrums about it.”

You nod in understanding. “It did hurt my feelings but I really didn’t feel like it was undeserved.”

“It was totally undeserved!”

You crack a little smile. “Agree to disagree?”

He grabs your face with both hands, knocking your foreheads together. “It was undeserved, no take backs. I’m sorry I hurt you and always will be. Stop being so nitpicky about yourself, kay? I’m literally crazy about you.”

“Me too,” You crane your neck to kiss his palm where it cradles your face. “I adore you, baby.”

“I like being adored by you,” He says with a sweetness that makes your heart melt. “I like loving you too of course, but attention is… nice. You know.”

He makes a face at you as you say this that you can only describe as a grin, before pushing himself forward to press a long kiss to your lips. You laugh a little into, smile splitting your face at the intensity he kisses you at first thing in the morning. Over and over, pulling and pushing - giggling as you chase his mouth as he pulls away.

“We kissed but I dunno if we’ve made up,” He says. Concern briefly passes over your expression. “Got some really good ideas about how we could do that.”

You give him a flat look but can’t contain your laughter.

“We should really eat breakfast,”

He puts a hand at the top of your waistband with lidded eyes and smiles. “There’s something else I wanna eat first though?”

You pretend to be exasperated.

“Jesus. We just made-up and you wanna fuck already?”

“Duh. That’s like, the best part,”

You snort. “We’ll go once and then I’m making you eat breakfast even if I have to force it down your throat.”

“Ooh, feeling rough I see,”

You snort. “Yeah, guess so.” You shoot him a little look, leaning into whisper and nip at his ears. “On your knees for me, baby.”

He giggles a little, giddy with mischief in his face. “Mmkay,”

He presses a cheek to your clothed thigh, lovesick. “I love you,”

You can’t help but laugh at his choice of when to say it and simply reply back in full adoration. “I love you too, my heart.”

a/n ; ANOTHER AUTHORS NOTE? sorry for being the ceo of yapping im insane

i just want to like. give some insight on this fight bc im worried it seems onesided. reader has low self esteem and really beats themself over their own expectations in everything. they isolate when they're overwhelmed and work was already doing that to them. and then things got busier, which meant there wasn't really time to repair the relationship between them which is why nightowl gets as mad as he does.

nightowl is deathly afraid of being unloved and abandoned, and he get a little caught up in his self hate that they fail to realize something is going on with their partner. so he lashes it out and it feels warranted but he gets like guilty bc reader doesn't react to the goading any differently

i think nightowl is a very complicated but incredibly familiar character. he's a little selfish but i find him incredibly endearing and i have a strong desire to dote on him and monopolize him. which was the intent for this fic. but i ended up just exploring real life relationship dynamics between a character like this. very selfless x selfish. they love each other and find fulfillment in this. i love them.

[riddlerosehearts]

gale is so gentle, so soft whenever he touches elenion, when he kisses him, holds his hand, cradles him in his arms, runs his fingers through his hair. and that's... very disarming for him, at first.

not because any of elenion's past lovers were ever cruel, or tried to hurt him—he's just always been careful to keep things light. passionate and fun, yet fleeting.

but this—this is different. no one has ever touched him with such care and reverence before. no one's ever held him the way gale does, like he's a fine work of art, beautiful and delicate and meant to be treasured. after all, the person he used to be would've never let anyone get close enough to have a chance at loving him like that. he would've kissed them and touched them in ways that were as playful, dramatic, and distant as possible. performing intimacy without ever truly giving it, let alone receiving it. and he always told himself that was enough. as long as he didn't have to fall asleep alone each night.

how funny is it, then, that gale was the first person to truly see his performance for what it was and offer him something real instead? a master of illusion magic, seeing through an illusion that had even fooled elenion himself? ha. he could write a song about that. he just might have to. maybe he'll pretend he simply wrote it about the moon—but he has a feeling a certain someone will see right through that.

[southsideofchicago]

also i love when people like my posts after like months of me making the post you just know some poor person got swept up into the rabbit hole of a fandom and because of the lack of content had no other choice but to go on tumblr to satisfy the book hangover

[cobaltfluff]

the only part time job I actually wanted

[hollypies]

New pfp!! Anyone who followed me from the hlvrai amino days might recognize this gal! I wanted to draw her again it'd been to long lol💙🤍💗

(Her name is Somniac!)

[rysttle]

Googling for specific features in a person's face/body for art reference and it's all 'how to get rid of it' tips and im here like :((((((((

[your-messiah]

[the-kipsabian]

BRACELETS FOR SALE

OKAY HI!

finally got some ready made wrestling themed bracelets up for sale! what you see is what you get, you can order multiples for a bit of an added shipping cost cause its really hard to set it up in a way it makes sense without overdoing it but it is what it is, if youre concerned about it please message me so we can figure something out if youre planning to buy a lot at once. i will be adding more to here frequently probably when i make more 💜 they are priced pretty low with a pay what you want option on top of that if you feel like they're worth more tho

AND if you're not seeing anything you want and/or are looking for something custom i have great news for you!!

you can also order custom bracelets for a little bit of extra price, however ordering more than one gets you a small discount so :) up to four bracelets at a time as thats what the shipping cost they let me set for this covers

(also wink wink ko-fi functions as a tip jar as well if you just like whatever stuff i make 💜)

[chuffedtwobits]

(WIP!!!!) I've busted my butt to get nice art done to try to apply to the traffic zine for wild life and I think this is one of my favorite pieces to do recently. I just have a million flowers to paint but it'll be done soon <3

[sweet-star-sketches]

WIP from November 22nd, 2024 forgot to upload this oopsieeee In my buddy @eleanorose123's ongoing Yu-Gi-Oh hyperfixation, both of us have repeatedly lamented the lack of a proper design for The Light of Destruction in GX outside of some weird smoke with a jack-o-lantern face on it, despite it being a significant villain in the series. That and the fact that death/darkness has a proper design (and it rips), so I decided to take a crack at a full one for The Light over a few late-night hours.

I'm not going to pretend I understand Yu-Gi-Oh's design philosophy and thus I'm not going to pretend that this would fit it either, but I had fun anyway! I wanted to capture some cosmic god vibes with it while using what little scraps of imagery/colours we do get for it in the anime. Any day I'm making glowy star stuff is a good day :] ...Should I finish this? 🤔 I'm fine with leaving it as a fun little experiment here of course, but it might be distinct enough from the source material to make a print without too much trouble. Or at the very least a nice finished illustration I can add to my collection! I need to do more of those in general. Anyway, enjoy!

[bookshelfdreams]

the thing is though, as much as we all scream Ed did nothing wrong! at each other (and we're right, he didn't), the show itself, I think, does something much more interesting.

It asks us to forgive him.

Yes, he did terrible things. But we are asked to forgive him anyway. Not because he's very sad (although he is), not because he's pretty (he's so pretty), not because he had good reasons for everything he did (he had), not because the lasting damage is honestly neglectable (it is).

Not even because we are getting a very good look into his inner life, his issue, his trauma, his self-image (we do, and if that couldn't make you have empathy for him, why are you even here).

He deserves forgiveness, and healing and love. Just because. Because someone wants to give it to him, because he's worth it. Because sometimes we do fucked up, horrible things, and we are still people, we are allowed to come back from it, we are allowed to have a life after.

In-story, not everyone has to forgive him. Lucius is pissed at him, and that's okay. He's allowed to feel that way. But amid the worst of the pain and violence, Ed is never unsympathetic, because we are meant to forgive him, immediately, unconditionally. In-story, he's worthy of love, and I am so looking forward to him realizing that.

[batcave-dinosaur]

Thinking about xenobio Clark dick but in a sad way. Like obviously he'd never be able to have sex without them knowing about him being Superman, unless he did it with his pants on but like. Going unreciprocated for a long time would suck anyway. But anyway, I was rereading some great superbat xenobio fics and at least a couple have Bruce mentioning that like. Alien dick (especially tentacles) are a huge fantasy for a lot of people. And that got me thinking about Clark, lonely in his young adulthood, looking into all kinds of fantasy porn and it being soothing and heartbreaking in the same breath. Because it is sort of nice, to have this part of him be desired both in spite of and because of its weirdness, but also knowing none of it comes from a place of real understanding. Cuz knowing that people desire something is not the same as knowing they would accept you, as an alien and a Person.

[guardian-angle22]

Just a little psa that while I appreciate getting gif requests after episodes (and I promise I will get to all the ones still sitting in my inbox as soon as possible 😬😅)... I just really don't enjoy the plots with the guns. and don't want to make gifs of them for the most part. so keep that in mind if you're sending me anything regarding tonight's episode or the next since they appear to both be ranger heavy. thank you for understanding!