#I'm obsessed sorry/silly

[scarapanna]

[WIP] Back on that grind wooo!!!

Old people beef, gotta love that/silly

[Link to the finished piece]

[wildflowercryptid]

i'm about to pass out at my desk, but have this stupid ass doodle i did before i go sleep.

[egophiliac]

here's the Meleanor chibi speedrun! upfront warning for some flickering and/or flashing throughout from all the sped-up zooming/layer changes.

it turns out I only really recorded up to when I exported the PSD for the first time, so I went back and recorded a bit more to at least show a little of the reworked cape breakdown and background. and then bounced her rig around so you can see a bit of it too! the parts I'm not too embarrassed to show, anyway

even sped up it's still like 47 minutes (s-she took a really long time to make okay), so there are timestamps/chapters in the description if you click through! I certainly don't expect anyone to sit and watch it through, but maybe it'll be interesting to skip around in?

[ellenriplley]

Jack Quaid as Brad Boimler Star Trek: Strange New Worlds - 2.07 "Those Old Scientists"

[hermit-frog]

people see Daniel sass Armand without immediate consequences, and assume that Armand must be into that old man. but in reality, the reason Daniel is still intact is much simpler — Armand loves Louis.

[bonicedemandarina]

I thought that i was over twisted wonderland but turns out that i was wrong, so here's a lil idia drawing

[zhongrin]

*taps mic* yes hi hello is this working. ahem ahem. testing one two three.

ah yes. we're back to normal now lol

..... were yall surprised ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )

long story short, i just wanted to do something for april fools… last year albedo made an appearance, so i thought of doing the same this year... but i felt like it would be repetitive. so given the recent developments and future events, this idea came up lol

in any case, it's the truth that i've been warming up to neuvillette.... i've been writing more for him, and if you saw my 2023 wrapped post you probably saw him as a 'runner-up'... and i really do mean it when i say he's been kinda occupying the back of my brain since last year hskdljfklsd at the end of his story quest... his tone when talking to kiara.... sobsob ueueue

however, i'm honestly still unsure if i can/want to have an actual selfship with him (ó﹏ò｡) i can't figure out how it'll work out yet... it just feels like with neuvillette's canon personality, he wouldn't even think of glancing my way in the first place, given the circumstances…. and zhongli... what do i do about him.... ough....

maybe he'll be a separate ship (e.g. zhongwrinth is one au, wrinlette in one au) on his own… maybe rinvillette will be a 'pining but not actually dating' kind of selfship.... idk..... on that note, i really should be making a selfship post huh lol

also, he's rerunning in less than 24 hours (like. 19 hours-ish for me) and i hoped this would be a sufficient offering for the hydro dragon to come home early… i'll play him twinkle twinkle little star on my guzheng while pulling or something, since it should arrive tomorrow afternoon lmao… i hope he likes the instrument that 'sounds like flowing water' hdlshdls

in any case, thank you for interacting in the short little event! it was more of a spontaneous decision on my part, but i hope you all had fun and i didn't butcher neuvillette's character too much, he's so hard to muse orz <3

lil doodle bonus of what could have been:

[fizzle-y]

WE NEED TO START TALKING ABOUT THE 2018 SEATTLE SPACE AGE BATCHELOR MAN BECAUSE?? WHAT.

"Born to a body no doctor could comprehend, nor no nurse could resist, the last hope for the planet. While others flee from danger, he runs to it, for he IS the danger..."

"for only the space age bachelor man can stop our queen destroying planet earth-MY GOD!"

"or the completion of her laser, the earth doesn't stand a chance, and the only thing that may save the day is your LEGENDARY MEGA SUPER DANCE!!"

*the queen of the cat aliens is introduced* "wow! shes freaking hot!"

I really wished I had a video (or even lyrics) but as far as I could tell instead of count dog-u-lous its an evil cat queen (played by constance) who wants to destroy earth and they? I think have a dance off? or fight or something

[hexedrosel-arts]

Assorted(or apparently associated according to my tired brain) doodles

The context is none

[takecarelove]

molly + eggy hanging out together rn <3

[sanchezsimp]

Warning: if you post anything with Rick Sanchez and Ford Pines I WILL tag it as Rickford even if there is no implication it is Rickford

[cheekblush]

i'd rather be friendless than to constantly have my boundaries disrespected

[cactusdying]

redraw of that thing i drew. Yeah

[quirkle2]

i bought slime rancher 2 the day it was released and it's been like a week and a half and i've already put a whole 34 hours of my life into it anyway i've made an sr au

[nocentis]

Black Arum ┆ Siegrain

Content warning: main character death, cannibalism, gore, toxic/unreliable narrator, highly canon divergent character portrayal. Read at your own risk. You will probably take psychic damage from this.

╳┆A lure was stuck in the soot between his lungs. Many times he'd felt the tug — enough that the wire fray had worn a rut where his ribs met — and many times he'd found her on the other end, reeling for remnants of him that no longer existed. She would aim to break him open, sift around in the cinders for those specks of him she wanted to confiscate, keep for herself, so that she could finally be rid of him. Once those flecks were washed and panned, the remains would reek like plough mud closure. For that reason he would come to her whole, every whit of ash accounted for.

A cherry little game they'd play. Her with flint and steel, eager to reignite that paltry spark of "good" that flickered freely for a lapse before he remembered himself. Him with tinder and kindling, letting it light only to call on the rain again. Her with just enough hope. Him with just enough time.

That resolve was so very compelling. More than her beauty, her candor, and even that glow he so loved to bask in — that luster he wanted to hold between his teeth and bury under his nails — more than that, her tenacity was a toothsome temptation, and he wasn't keen to deny himself anything.

So when he felt the pull, he caved to the beck and spooled the lisle. That day, the line seemed lighter, thinner, than it ever had. It should've been strong. Tensile. Instead it felt gossamer fine and just as frail, poised to tear at an ill touch, and he wasn’t exactly renowned for his gentle hands. Still, he gathered it with both palms and wrapped it proudly around himself like a ceremonial sash, grin scrawled across his face something devilish.

╳┆He found her lying in the shade beneath a long-lived magnolia, still and silent as she never was, with the color of her namesake spread around her head in halo streaks. Battle-torn, as she so often was, and yet uncannily... passive.

Anything he'd planned to say went out the airlock. Instead, he stood there with an anchor in his stomach, reaping the benefit of doubt.

Not a frown nor a sigh when he darkened her sanctum, only heavenward eyes tearless and unblinking and a resigned breath just short of peaceful. That worn tether waned phantom thin, light as helium, and the tension in his chest went slack.

There was no definite snap. No dramatic severing or ear-popping moment of clarity. Only the vague sense of loss so fresh a wound that denial was a numbing salve.

“Get up,” his voice a command, sandgrit against whetstone, thickened by an unnamed antigen.

The silence felt like mockery. A placid scene void of chittering fauna, clouds' drum, or even the most timid breeze. It wanted him to hear the absence of her breath and the stillness of her chest. It wanted him to hear the hollow. The empty. The nothing. Wanted it to resonate; to find the furthest reaches of his mind and clean them out until all that was left was this icy, clarifying silence.

He knew the end when he saw it. This was something much worse. It was robbery.

Her life wasn’t for the world to take. It was for him to hold in his hands. 

Something wet and pathetic slicked his tongue — some whiny, pleading thing — and it was stubborn as oil. The authority slid to the back of his throat and left him choking, “You are the indomitable Titania. You’ve laced fingers with Death time and again only to rise and slay and conquer, so get up.”

Her warmth was set to a slow drip, spilling from her in tired beads and seeping soundlessly into her chosen ground. Little whispers of her lost to greedy loam, sullied, never to be returned.

A waste of precious love. The sod won’t drink of her as he will. It will take of her and give back what? New “life” so fragile and fleeting? A feeble weed will take root, bloom its days few, and curl itself inside out? Pathetic. An insult to her legacy. An insult to the diamond-split sharp of her bladesoul.

His heart boiled over — popping, sticking, simmering sicksweet saccharine. It colored him cloying, flooded his mouth, and forced him to kneel at her altar.

"Please," he keened, hollow and morose, and his own pleading sickened him, “Say something.”

The sun trickled through the leaves like ichor, lighting up her black-blown eyes and the thin ring of honey surrounding them. Dim, distant, and dead as the moon.

His hand carved a path to her face, fingers featherlight against her fading flush. He brushed her bangs from her eyes and forced an unbroken breath through his quavering mouth. He traced each scar too faint to see and the parts of her skin their star kissed. Memorized the map of her face — each curve and crease, each fine hair, and every eyelash. He would carve out a space in his mind in her shape and fill it with the thousand sweet nothings he kept in his pockets.

He gathered her hand and threaded it with his own. When he opened his mouth, a rickety twine escaped from the deepest point of his chest, so he forced his jaws shut to keep the grief corked. He uncurled her fingers and pressed his cheek into her palm, trapping her there against his own scarred skin. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in this borrowed touch — this moment fated, stolen from him by this world's insatiable avarice.

He kissed her palm directly in the center; held it against his mouth and felt his own ruined breath echo back to him from the deepest grooves of her skin. Again, he begged, “Please, Erza.”

Of the armors innumerable now haunting this hallowed ground, this one least befit her. 

He revered Death. If there was a god, surely it was Death, he thought, for Death asks for nothing but life. The dead don’t know that they’re dead. They know a split second of euphoria and then a sharp, definite end. Isn’t that the work of a gracious god? One last stroke of color whether in peace or peril, and then eternal rest. Back to the dust you sprouted from.

But now he couldn’t see any of that beauty he often waxed poetic about. All he could see was change yet to come. All he could see was her, and he wanted her back.

He wanted her back, yet he knew better than anyone that there was no such thing as resurrection. While Death might be gracious, it was not generous, and it was not to be reasoned with.

The thought of her buried deep, bathed by the dark and abandoned to rot — it washed his mouth acid sour. It ate straight through his tongue and lingered in the roots of his teeth, burning, raging redhot in his jaws’ marrow.  A grave didn't suit her anymore than a pyre.

Soon she would be cold. Stiff. A feast for flies and their insatiable young. In the days to come, she would bubble and bloat and sallow. Her skin would loosen and slough off. The sun would bleach her bones. The meat of her would melt into oil and fat and bogspit. She would mix in with the soil, the groundwater, and this thankless magnolia would thrive.

It was tall, thick, with branches spread in all directions. The lowest of its limbs showed off the varied deep greens of its large waxy leaves, their undersides a chalky brown. A few white flowers bloomed, palm-shaped petals open in praise like they'd come to witness and worship. There was no question why she'd chosen to crawl here. It must've reminded her of home.

Despite its beauty, it was hardly worthy of her. Nothing in this ravenous world was. Her grave should be carved within his chest. There, he could keep her warm. He could host her in his veins. One day, they would wade the waters of woe together. Until then she could live under his skin.

He wouldn’t allow her to spoil. Wouldn’t place her gently into time’s whittlesome hands only to lose her peel by peel by rotting peel.

This world has taken much from you. Do not allow it to take her too.

A carnal ache etched itself into bone, a depth of passion he hadn't felt since he wrought for a false Heaven.

She is a fruit, ripe as a plum and twice the taste. Peel her open. There is a seed at her core. Plant it in your soot-field chest and watch her bloom anew.

What are these hands for if not this?

Flesh like sheets of silk. Muscle like rope. Blood like honey. Bone like an ivory trove. The splitting, the squelching, the straining, ripping, snapping; it burrowed marrow-deep and lingered there. Her chest peeled apart like jagged teeth, jaws croaking their rusted tune, and inside that redslick maw was the center of the universe.

The heart upon its throne, still as she, shielded by her precious lungs. It slid into his palm like it was always meant to be there. Raw, rich, and so very scarlet. Its sinews strained against his pull — those hollow vines that fed even the furthest parts of her — so he wrenched them free and draped himself in them like matchless finery.

Eat. Eat ‘til you’re sick. There’s a hole the size of her in the pit of your stomach. Eat until you fill it. 

What are these teeth for if not this?

Tough as leather; smooth as rubber. His teeth slid right off the rind and clicked together with nothing but metallic sheen between them. He gnashed at that ink-dripping muscle until he found a spot weak enough to tear apart. It tasted of rare meat and iron; a heady gore thick enough to drown in. He swallowed, gasped, and that first new breath felt like a blade.

The child inside him saw her split-open ribs as his cradle. He wanted to crawl inside, curl up, and die. He wanted to paint himself her color.

He lost his vision to the hot, angry wash. His own sobs were a distant sound, muffled by meat and blood and his own desperate fingers. He was numb in the mouth and in the shake of his hands, but he forced himself to eat, eat despite the choking, the gagging, the wet, weeping remorse.

Don’t you dare throw her up. Be grateful. Swallow and say thank you and finish what you’ve started.

He bit into his own palm, indistinguishable from her core, and he cried out in sour relief. His hands spread raw grief over his face, through his hair, and down his neck.

You’re no better than this starving world.

He curled into himself, hands clutching his own aching chest, and despite the cloudless sky, he called upon the rain.

[emile-hides]

Hugga Bugga; Good for the Mental Health

I'm not a typical shiny hunter, I'll just spam hatch eggs till I get the shiny I want rather than run around looking for them, but you can't do that for Paradox Pokemon and I wanted a shiny Slither Wing really badly

Her name is Migas because I wanted to name her something egg themed. She's sunny side up and I love her.