#yay me!!!!! 👍

[baileyboo2016]

making fan art for “a friendship built on misery” (newest Gulliver torture fic) and I have joined him in misery. his misery is also mine. we are one and the same.

[tomaturtles]

Got inspired by this and had to

[sonicranger1]

Needed a break from the months long WIP so have this that's (i guess?) a continuation of my previous Ink post (Click for better quality)

Ink by Comyet | Extra doodle + small alt text version under the cut

[codecicle]

YAY!

[realboutfatalfury]

If you can save me, take my hand and show me Even if it’s painful, I don’t care

In a world where time remains still Even if I cry out "Don’t abandon me, please don’t leave me"

[nox-sssscraps]

April-June unfinished/unposted art dump!

[lumism]

happy pride month everyone i really did not plan to but i just came out to my mum which has been a seven year long process so umm! lets go 🫶

[lazycranberrydoodles]

boss lady doodle that i started during cringetober but didnt finish (i rewatched way of the househusband yet again.) nya

[francisforever2014]

came out to my dad 👍 there’s officially no area of my life in which i’m not out and proud we did it queers

[trainingdummyrabbit]

[She expected to feel scared. And perhaps she was, on some level. But it was the type of fear that danced on the edge of excitement. The silent promise of a “This is It.”]

Or: A post-Ruina musing of the library and Angela.

.

Angela was used to silence. There had always been moments of screaming chaos, sights she'd passed over that anyone softer than herself would retch at; it was all par for the course. But the moments that had really clung to her had always been the silence.

Moments between loops spent alone, staring at flickering screens disconnected from minds just out of reach, asleep. Lulls in management as she waits for the inevitable shoe to drop, casting everything back into cacophony. Isolated, as she stared at the unbuilt bricks of the future she would carve for herself, made of others’ hopes and dreams. The type of absence that had no true voice to complain, but eyes that casted judgement. The wordless pressure of resentment. 

She never much liked silence. 

…Even still, she found herself returning to the balcony, again and again. There was much work to be done, of course. Repairing the library was a tall task after the mess that was made of it, especially now that she was piloting with her own will. She did not mind– this sort of task was simply in her nature. Direct, organize, rebuild. This time, however, she was not on her own.

It was an odd thing to get used to, working so closely with those she had such a… complicated history with. And though they seemed willing enough to help, something still itched at the back of her mind. Again, the echo of that pressing silence rolled in and, against her nature, she found her mind wandering. And there she was again, staring out into that seemingly endless distance, in the spot where they’d lost one home and gained another.

It was a strange feeling. She thought she'd have had enough of this by now, casting herself back into the embrace of solitude. She had expected it to grate on her mind as it always did, enveloped in the downy cling of distance. It was something she had always done. Welcomed her like the incessant tug of a spider's thread. And yet, despite it all, the circling, the thrashing, the running– she could not feel that weight. No, in fact, she felt lighter than ever. She did not get what she wanted. She no longer had any failsafes– no lifeline to cling to, no beaten paths to follow. It was just her, the city walls in the distance, and the expanse of a world she had never gotten the chance to see. All here, right here, right now. 

She'd expected to feel resentment. Another plan she couldn't follow through on, another ending ruefully snatched from between her fingers. Another life that was robbed of her, from right under her nose. But… something was different this time. This expanse was empty, yes, but the wind whistled across it as it would anywhere else. The sun still rose and set, casting everything into hues uncapturable in the frames of pictures. Stars still hung in the sky, numerous, dancing. And here she was, capturing it all in her own two eyes. 

This world– this life– was still unforgiving. She had heard stories of the outskirts, of the creatures that lurked there, of the horrors that played out, again and again. But… was that not true of anywhere? Of everything she had gone through, this would not be the one to put her down. For once in her life, she realized, that voiceless gaze that had hung over her all this time… she could no longer feel it. She no longer worried of her presentation, that heavily enforced dance she was compelled to follow. This time was different. This time… this time she was truly an outlier. 

There was a difference between Silence and Quiet. 

Silence implied the lack of movement. Stillness. Silence implied solitude. A plane of glass between the self and the outside world, plainly in view but painfully distant. It’s the denial of the senses, and the dissolution of the self. Silence was what was expected of her. But quiet… quiet was a relief. She was alone, yes, but not truly. Even standing alone, facing the world with naught but her own thoughts, even still the distant shuffle of movement could be heard. Barely audible voices, squabbling, laughter. Breathing. Alive– it was alive. She was alive. Quiet was a respite. The lull of ocean waves, and a breath taken to start again. 

Start again. 

That was what she always wanted, right? The chance to begin anew, the chance to stand on her own two feet. The opportunity to forge forward through uncertainty. This was what she fought for. No, this was what they fought for. After so long stumbling blindly through layers and layers of darkness, the maze of human fear and desire, here she was. Once again she looked off into the distance, the sun gently making its descent behind the horizon line. And for a moment, that was simply all. Streaks of color, dimming skies, and the silent sigh of the open air. Yes, maybe a bit of quiet would do her some good.

And for a good few moments, she simply watched the sun go down. She could not feel the breeze, but she could see the ends of her sleeves ruffle in its current, hear the faint whistle of the rush past the library’s boughs. Alive. And she raised her gaze, up towards the tiny pinpricks of light slowly peeking their way through the waning reach of sunlight. And watched. Captured neatly in her gaze. This moment was hers and hers alone. And nobody could take it from her. 

Quiet. 

…And then, slowly, gently; she pulled her eyes from the glittering stars above and turned away from the balcony railing– committing every tiny light to memory. They may not have gotten what they wanted, but this was far from the end. It was nothing more than a slight detour. Nowhere to go but straight ahead. There was always more work to do. And with a silent nod to nobody but herself, Angela walked back inside. Ready to take the next step.

[dukeofthomas]

I will forever maintain that Jason would've been fine and Not a vigilante without Bruce making him Robin

[arthyritis]

If I could give three ocs three different iterations of the same name without feeling an ounce of shame, there's no reason I should be fighting myself to name a character what I want 🤨

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Literally spent the entire day today watching sfth. It’s all I did.

[a-tiny-sloth]

guys... i think i am just aroace

[automatonknight]

ok i'm curious. do people actually like. participate in art fight for the competition?

[ronanlynchbf]

and then an overwhelming sense of dread apear.