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#thats all ily
gravedigg · 6 months
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Im about to color this but
with the posts about Gortash smoking and reading @amaranthsynthesis 's fic yesterday I'm just thinking about how fucking cool Enver and Virgil probably were when they were young(er) and in love
also really wanted to draw Virgil's pre-tadpole outfit
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papanowo · 3 months
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just checking in
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skizabaa · 1 year
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Sun's purposely not telling him how to tie his shoes.
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wu-does-art · 1 year
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will probably had a very interesting talk with mike later.
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criticalyasha · 6 months
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Devastated over Ashley’s “love you” in tiny
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stealingpotatoes · 3 months
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Trying to imagine a Zeb/Kallus wedding feels like a fever dream
knowing them it's like any given wedding disaster comedy but about 300000x more chaotic. half the shit goes missing. the empire attacks. sabine's fireworks go off 2 hours early and set fire to something. baby jacen won't stop crying. a lothcat eats the cake. the empire attacks again. everyone has to evacuate. they end up just marrying in the ghost's bridge after a starfight. both of them still consider it the happiest day of their lives
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drangues · 11 months
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this is drawn for @motherthroat's incredible cowboy au!! (link | link )
(THE DESIGN IS N O T MINE. mori was kind enough to send me a ref sheet for mike's design, hope i did him Justice)
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ofpaintedflowers · 11 months
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two in harmony
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a-beautiful-fool · 2 months
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here is a tag game for you guys since im gone for a bit <33
if you had nine lives, what would you do with them?
1. baker in paris
2. photographer in berlin
3. author in new york
4. owner of a forestry in greece
5. painter in the countryside
6. member in a indie band in the uk
7. owner of a small bookstore in canada
8. architect in spain
9. chef in italy
and then tag nine people!
@urbanflorals @svnflowermoon @daydream-of-a-wallflower @trying-to-be-cool-abt-it @theladyinwhite13 @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @gu1lty-as-sin @sleepinginmygrave @halucynator <33
(im so sorry for not tagging all the people i wanted too!!! ILY ALL SO MUCH!)
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spooksier · 4 months
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getting back into doctor who makes me jump for joy this show sucks so bad <3333
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marcmorrigan · 2 months
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@fenglianweek day 6: memories/growing up
the best thing thats ever been mine
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gravedigg · 1 month
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I bit God's hand and now he wont even feed me
This ones inspired by a picture of Mary holding Jesus but, since Virgil grew up in foster care and never knew his mother, there's no one there. Just the hollow space where someone should be.
It speaks to his relationship (and subsequent disconnection) with his heritage and culture as the orphaned child of immigrants and his difficult relationship with religion, having grown up religious but feeling betrayed and abandoned by god after his injury.
I wanted it to look like an old post card, it says return to sender but unfortunately they didn't leave a return address. It's probably just gonna sit at the post office until they throw it away. :-(
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starwarned · 5 days
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Inhale
my little entry for @aftg-420-fest !! <3
andreil, 1k words, rated T
summary:
“Want any?” Andrew asks, but he’s not holding out the joint anymore. The next inhale that Andrew takes, he holds for only a few seconds before releasing, the smoke brushing past Neil’s cheek. Neil blinks at the sudden onslaught and he catches on to what Andrew is offering.
read it on ao3 or literally right here!
Inhale
A soft flick of metal striking makes Neil look up.
For a split, panicked second, the sound reminds Neil of a cigarette lighter and the passenger seat of a police car. Before that old terror can take hold, Neil’s gaze catches on Andrew’s face.
His pulse steadies.
Andrew flicks the lighter again and takes a slow drag from the joint he has tucked gently between two fingers on his left hand. Neil’s brain gets stuck on Andrew’s familiar fingers for longer than strictly necessary, but he manages to pry his attention back to Andrew’s eyes.
Judging by the look Andrew is giving him — something unsurprised and almost smug — Neil was obvious in his distraction.
“Staring,” Andrew says, and then takes another, smaller hit, inhaling deeply before releasing the smoke into the air above Neil’s head.
They’re on the roof, and the sun is setting, and Neil likes this so much. He tucks his hands behind his back, officially bidding goodbye to his textbook that’s open on the ground in front of him. He and Andrew have been occasionally coming up here on weekends for hours at a time, now that it’s warm enough to do so. Andrew was a bit smarter for the long term with his pants and orange hoodie, but Neil is perfectly content in running shorts and a long sleeve. He’s sitting in an easy stretch on the blanket that Andrew had brought up with them, his foot a few inches away from Andrew’s.
He pokes Andrew with his socked toes.
“Know what year the War of 1812 was yet?” Andrew asks in retaliation.
Neil doesn’t answer but shuts his textbook, shoves it off to the side, and then scoots in closer.
Andrew holds out the joint in offering, but Neil doesn’t take it. He has smoked with Andrew a few times since Andrew and Aaron picked it up, and doesn’t mind it when they do with more regularity, but he hasn’t really gotten the hang of it yet.
When Neil scoots in even closer, Andrew tucks his legs in so he’s cross-legged between Neil’s outstretched legs. Neil tucks one up and Andrew’s hand immediately goes to his knee, softly running his fingers over Neil’s skin, tracing the shape of his kneecap.
“Want any?” Andrew asks, but he’s not holding out the joint anymore. The next inhale that Andrew takes, he holds for only a few seconds before releasing, the smoke brushing past Neil’s cheek. Neil blinks at the sudden onslaught and he catches on to what Andrew is offering.
He shrugs, and then eyes Andrew’s mouth, where he’s already drawing the joint back to his lips. Andrew wraps his mouth around the filter, and then inhales, his cheeks bowing in with the movement, and Neil doesn’t bother to hide his staring again.
“Andrew,” Neil says.
Lifting his hand from Neil’s knee, Andrew tucks it under Neil’s chin, and draws him close. He squeezes just enough that Neil’s mouth falls open slightly.
His mouth barely an inch away from Neil’s now, Andrew exhales the smoke. Neil doesn’t have to move. He just inhales, sucking in softly, and letting his eyes shut at the feeling of the smoke entering his lungs. It’s easier this way, and Neil hums softly as he lets out the breath.
“More?” Andrew asks, and his voice is low and soft. Neil tries not to get turned on by it. (He fails supremely.)
“Yes,” he says, and Andrew takes another hit, adjusting his hand so he can slide two fingers under Neil’s chin, and pull him in again. This time, Andrew’s lips brush against Neil’s as he exhales and Neil has to focus in order to inhale properly.
Neil has to turn away to exhale and Andrew drops a kiss against the shell of Neil’s ear. Neil turns back to him, and they’re barely a breath apart.
Then Andrew’s mouth is on his, a whispered, “Yes or no?” tucked against his lips. Neil’s responding “Yes” is muffled, but clearly received.
The effect of the weed isn’t immediate, but Andrew’s mouth is, and insistently so. Andrew kisses Neil with an intensity that never fails to absolutely floor him.
They kiss with fervor that only slows slightly as the weed kicks in. It’s barely a buzz in Neil’s skin, just weighing him down, settling his brain a bit. He bites down on Andrew’s lip and then sucks on it, grinning when Andrew inhales sharply. When Neil pulls back just a bit, he finds Andrew’s stare and stifles a smile at how high he looks already — mouth soft, eyes hooded, gaze easy.
“Done?” Andrew asks, holding up the joint, which has long gone out, but could be relit if Neil wanted it. He doesn’t, so he shakes his head. The joint gets dropped unceremoniously on top of Neil’s textbook.
Wind whips across the rooftop, sudden and stinging cold. Neil’s exposed legs get the brunt of it and he shivers, but the gust is short-lived. With the sun this low to the horizon, it is colder than when they first retired to the roof. Neil scoots in closer to Andrew, and Andrew completes the move by gripping Neil around the waist and tugging him up into his lap. Neil wraps his legs lazily around Andrew’s hips.
“Andrew,” he murmurs, face pressed into his hair.
Andrew doesn’t say anything and sets his mouth against Neil’s neck, leaving a kiss there and then tilting his head to run his nose along the same spot.
“Andrew,” Neil says again, and it’s a sigh this time. Barely there, whipped away in the next harsh breeze.
“Don’t fall asleep.”
“Stop being so comfortable,” Neil mumbles.
Not rising to the comment, Andrew tucks his face fully into Neil’s neck and rests more of his weight on him.
It’s not Neil’s fault that he falls asleep a little bit. It’s not his fault that he never feels safer than he does in Andrew’s hold.
Andrew doesn’t call him on it. He just holds him. Neil trusts Andrew to take his weight, to hold him there.
Neil trusts Andrew to wake him up if he’s going to smoke more.
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neptunesailing · 7 months
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you thought i was done with spiderstars? WRONG. beams you with doodles
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riseatlantisss · 7 months
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me when my party members make jokes about Astarion starting to burn :
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hear me out : tav should get the option to angrily shut them down and grab a cloak or something to shield him from the light as they follow him into the shadows 💕
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dizzybizz · 1 year
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ok but what if i was a huge kaeya stan, what then
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