#literally dont know how to tag this

[cabrocabron]

『 иσω ρℓαуιиg . . . . 』 

╰┈➤ 𖡎 ѕσfт fυzzу мαи - ℓємσи ∂ємσи 𖡎

[amethysttheanarchist]

Literally just woke up from a dream where I got kidnapped and Johnny cage saved me

Here's the issue with that, I know jack shit about mortal kombat, I've only played the game like a couple times, months ago. So how in God's name did he get in there

[malanatero]

All of the symptoms of asphyxia remind me of asthma. More info below

Anyways, here is Ceferino, a character based on the concept of lack of oxygen and oxygen itself. I chose the colors based on a blue underpainting? Like the base was blue and then I worked over that. I got the idea of painting him based on a writing prompt which was something along the lines of "What would you write if you had 5 minutes left of oxygen". I was supposed to write him having that same problem but got carried away with the design lmao. I just started drawing him again and again and couldn't stop myself.

Maybe someday I will do what I intended to do with him but until then here you go, a full character sheet.

[azvhaalk]

glorious evolution

[hoshizoralone]

reflection

[howoffcentre]

Making magnets 👍

[potatobugz]

objects loving objects baby!!!!

[ph-cutie]

tfw you dont wanna sit on the chair but you maxxed out electrochem instead of volition

[stratopshere]

star

timelapse

[evilherehotel]

literally how did she get out of that

[cobaltfluff]

goro picks up a clingy nyakiren

[paxcallow]

desire to draw raz's hair unhatted and uncombed spiraled into imagining an extended gag about some emergency situation forcing all of the psychonauts out of the motherlobe into the quarry in their jammies at like 2 am and judging each other's clothing choices instead of getting actual work done.

[heathersapples]

EMMA D'ARCY HOUSE OF THE DRAGON S2 || Emmy's FYC Panel (2025)

[cannednoodle]

Picking your girl up from her bible reading club

I had been experimenting a lot with the designs as of late, also! Happy holidays!

[anonbinaryweirdo]

While it may seem a bit of an uncomfortable scent to have to constantly breathe in, the smell of the sweat that was faded into his clothes; and the smudges of dirt scattered about in his hair, matching how dirty his outfit already was; it wasn't exactly what one would describe as a pleasant scent . But it was fine. His gloves may be a little—just barely—damped in both water and blood; almost completely filthy and battered, but you wouldn't want anything more than the feel of it. To feel the quarter of that palm, of that very same glove against your skin, in your hair, squeezing you tightly.

"shhhh.." he pressed his chapped lips to the root of your nose, his heart only further breaking at the sound of your quiet, hardly concealed sob. Childe gently cupped your face in his hands, bringing your eyes to meet his own blue ones. His eyes, they never did carry a certain spark like any other, not since he saw the light of the outside world again after three months of blood and darkness.

But, you were always an exception. Just seeing you would bring an invisible shine to his eyes—one that no one could bring about.

His eyes were almost like an ocean; still, but only on the outside. Gaze into it, and you'd see the same thing as everyone else. They grew fierce during a fit of rage, like the waves of water flowing aggressively in a storm. You never knew what you were in for, just by staring into the surface. You never knew what was beneath it all.

But if you got the special chance of diving deeper into the hues of thick blue, if you get the chance of exploring the one place everyone else wouldn't dare tread into, you would see that it was full of life. It would consist of some dangers, of course, yes, but there was a sparkle that was shamelessly present, compared to what was shown outside.

and Childe believes, with a full heart, that he wouldn't even have one if not for you.

"I'm here now." he reminds you, trying to calm you with his voice and full promises. "and i'm not going anywhere. I promise."

You sniffle, looking up at your lover with wet, red eyes. you want to trust his words — and you do — it's just...

you needed to be sure.

You bring up a weak arm, battered in blood seeping through the ripped cloth, and hold out your pinkie. Your hand shakes. He knows what you're searching for and smiles.

He locks his pinkie with yours, and takes a deep breath.

“You make a pinky promise, you keep it all your life.

If I break this pinkie promise, you throw me on the ice.

The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend,

The frost will freeze my tongue off so I never lie again.”

He doesn't let go of your pinkie, even after the chant is over. Instead, he brings your locked fingers to his lips, and presses a tender kiss to your curled one. "Is that better? Do you believe me now?"

you nod.

You've always believed him. He's never failed to be there for you, to protect you when you needed protection. and he's proved that, time and time again. He's proved that today. When your life was flashing before your eyes, when all the fight had left your body and you were helpless and surrounded by foes—all you needed was to blink and suddenly the grass was red.

You don't know how he did it. How he knew you needed him.

But you were glad he knew. You don't know what you would've done without him there.

And he wouldn't know what to do if you weren't here.

[caycanteven]

he sits