#Oh yeah... happy new year ......

[98chao]

the way amy smacked the shit out of silver is always really funny to me

[eggnoodles0up]

slay the princess is a very serious and existential game

[indigocloverr]

WHOS THE BIG GUY NOW HUH ?????

[charmallows]

learned how to draw belle just for this. i think they could be cute...

[xxrat--punkxx]

Contemptuous little bone witch

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i don't think i posted doodles of Sundown Summer's loyal steed! he's a starry appaloosa. a... starpaloosa. constelloopa. appastella. he has a body count written in blood

[ninebuttonz]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! WOOOOO 🎉🎉🎉

Wham!! Making a tumblr account,, how scary!! Stay tuned for more tmnt (mostly rottmnt) silliness ;P

[valka-arialitan]

My gift for @arczism for the @cp77nyexchange !

So sorry it took so long ! ; - ;

I had lots of ideas and tried to combine them all, still without going all-in for the angst (I said I tried), but honestly, who wouldn't be ready to die for a guy like Vito ??

Anyway, hope you like it, and happy new year ! ^^ ��

[hinaliix]

Some doodles to start the year off 🫶

[staytiny-dreams]

beneath the christmas lights (c.sb x reader)

pairing: choi soobin x gn! reader

genre: non!idol au, freshly established relationship, seasonal fluff

warnings: zero, reader has a broken home, but it's not detailed, choi soobin being cute, angst if you squint (barely), sooo fluffy

wc: 1.8k

note: i don't like christmas fics, but we visited christmas lights at sunset while i was in my soobin feels so this was born. sorry if the formatting is weird this is the first time i've done this on my laptop. stay safe these holidays everyone

christmas time is confusing. for some, it is a joyous time of year filled with love and presents, decorations, family and friends. for others it is just a reminder of what they’re missing, whether it be family, friends or even money.

for you, christmas serves as a reminder of what you once had, and of what you’ve lost. 

yelling echoes through the bottom story of your house, your step mother’s shrieks piercing any peace you might’ve had as your father picks another fight.

sighing, you grip your headphones tight around your ears, knuckles tense with the force of your grip and with a flick of your thumb, the volume of the music surrounding you is bumped up.

you almost don’t hear it, but the vibrations of your phone against your thigh drags your attention down to your lap.

bin: (y/n)

before you can even type out a response another message comes through.

bin: i’m outside

you frown down at your screen, brows scrunching together. rather than sending through the question marks you’re tempted to, you pull your headphones off and place them gently on the keyboard of your laptop.

with your headphones gone you feel an immediate wave of cold wash over you. standing alone in your bedroom, you can once again hear the persisting argument occurring one floor down. despite the blue light from your laptop, the warm light from the fairy lights strung up around the room and the barely setting sun, you feel shrouded in darkness.

with familiar ease, you round your bed and approach the window, sheer curtains already having been pulled back.

sitting on your verge, two wheels on the curb and lights shining, is soobin’s car. through the tint on his windows you can faintly make out soobin, smiling up at you, giving you a shy wave.

y/n: ???

you replay your last few conversations with him in your head, trying to remember if you’d made any plans with him you may have forgotten about, but nothing comes to mind.

it’s christmas eve, shouldn’t he be with his family?

another vibration and a small chime sounds, effectively bringing your focus back to your messages with the boy in your front yard.

bin: just come down

with a huff loud enough to hide your smile, you slide on your sneakers, slip out of your bedroom and down the stairs.

while your parents are wrapped up in picking each other apart, it’s easy to pass by them, no questions asked, grabbing your house keys from the hook in the kitchen and quietly exiting through the front door.

“what are you doing here?” you ask as soon as the car door has been closed behind you.

“do you trust me?” is all he says and you let out a snort, something somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

“absolutely not.” 

he mumbles an offended ‘okay’ that you can only just catch while he is turned away from you, rummaging around in the backseat. you roll your eyes affectionately at his response and simply face forward.

the sun has properly begun its descent now, yellow and pink clouds are scattered across the darkening sky. you find your chest tightening at the pretty sight and with a start you realise the feeling bubbling inside you at the view is akin to the feeling that bubbles up when you look at soobin.

a long groan startles you back to reality as soobin sits back in his seat, a small white and green bag with oil stains spreading across the bottom edge is clutched in his right hand. he stretches his arm out to you, the bag dangling between the two of you as you stare sceptically at it.

“what is this?” you ask yet reach out for the bag without waiting for his answer.

unfolding the bag, you peek inside and gasp at what lay in there.

“soobin what…” you begin to ask again, but you are silenced when you meet his eyes. his gaze rests on you with an emotion swimming through his irises that you can’t quite understand.

instead of once again questioning his actions, you reach for the donut, from your favourite local bakery he had brought and pull on it with both hands.

the soft dough comes apart easily and you smile at soobin, holding one half of the donut out to him. he beams back at you, his dimples igniting a warmth in your heart that soobin seems to carry with him.

“no (y/n) i bought it for you, it’s your favourite dessert.” you shrug at him and push the half donut even closer, the cinnamon brushing against his lips.

“and you’re my favourite person, you’ll go well together.” you state as if it is a well known fact. at this, soobin blushes a bright red and turns away, finally turning the engine back on.

the soft guitar that had been playing since you entered the car pauses as his radio restarts with the engine, then promptly continues its soothing tune. 

“hmph.” you let a small, huffy laugh slip past your lips. while soobin focuses his attention on driving off the curb of your front yard, he still finds it in him to question your laughter.

“nothing. i was just listening to this song inside is all.” you admit, your cheeks warm. it feels silly to be flustered by such a small thing, but everything about soobin causes your body to run hot and your heart to pound.

soobin doesn’t respond, instead opting to focus on the road as he exits the cul-de-sac your house sits at the back of as a means to ignore the warmth in his own cheeks.

“soobin! what are you- where are you taking me?” you yelp at him as your own house shrinks away in the mirror. when you look down from the mirror, back at soobin, you find him already staring at you. his eyes are dark, bar the same unknown emotion swirling through them, mouth set in a straight line and you know to take his next words seriously.

“do you trust me?” he asks and you swallow, your throat tight under the intensity of his gaze.

“absolutely.” at this, you are rewarded with his dimples as he smiles to himself, eyes back on the road as he finally turns off of your street and onto the main road.

settling into your seat, your arm rests on the centre console, palm facing upwards. your head lolls to the side, watching through the window that soobin must have wound down before your entrance.

the breeze sweeps over you and within minutes, as you had hoped, soobin’s arm joins yours on the centre console, his large hand tentatively reaching for your own. you open your hand more, allowing him to intertwine his fingers with your own, matching smiles spreading across both of your lips at the gesture.

“the beach?” you turn your head away from the window to look back at soobin upon recognising the route he was driving. his sweet smile morphs into something cheekier and he squeezes your hand with his own.

“i thought you trusted me, hm?” you huff for the nth time tonight at his cryptic response yet your smile doesn’t waver.

then, a split second before the lights come into view, it clicks. a childlike excitement you thought you had left behind awakens in you, your heart sitting in your throat and you aren’t sure if it’s because of the christmas light displays, or the boy who drove you to see them.

soobin slows the car right down as he drives up the strip of beach houses whose owners had gone all out. 

the two of you are lit up by reds, greens and blues as you crawl down the beautifully lit street. you feel as if your eyes couldn’t get any wider, taking in every possible detail you can from each and every display. 

a santa here, a merry christmas there, a snowflake or two, glowing snowmen, lines of candy canes and for a second you felt twelve years old again. your mum on one side of you, your dad on the other looking up at your own christmas display just a few short years before everything fell apart.

tears well in your eyes as you think of your home now, cold and dark despite the sun only just setting and the warmth that christmas was supposed to bring.

as soobin reaches the end of the street, he simply pulls over. a hand on your cheek brings you back to the present, your head whipping over to face soobin as a few tears spill over.

“baby…” soobin pouts at your tearful expression and your heart clenches in return, not before skipping a beat at the term of endearment.

with one of his hands wrapped around your own, the other covering your cheek and his eyes boring into your own, you find yourself drowning in that nostalgic warmth you used to associate with christmas. you squeezed his hand lightly and his pout shifted into a smile as quickly as your tears had fallen.

soobin’s smile felt like the sun itself was shining down on you, half of his face was lit by the christmas lights behind you and the other half by the setting sun. 

“thankyou, bin.” you manage to get out and his smile widens.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.” he strokes your cheek as he speaks, brushing away any residual moisture from your tears.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you try to snap, but it comes out weak as a couple more tears slip down your cheeks, only to be caught by soobin’s waiting hand.

“there you are!” he teases, landing a poke to your cheek as he chuckles at your attempt at your usual stern tone.

“i’m serious, dumbass. i…” soobin’s breath catches as your heart rises up your throat at the words that have been fighting to get out.

“i love you,” soobin rushes out before you can work up the nerve.

“what?” you ask, thrown off by his abrupt interruption. 

“sorry, i didn’t take you out here to tell you this. i just wanted to help you… i know, christmas can be hard for you sometimes and i- but i do. i love you (y/n).” you watch with a fond smile as he rambles, seemingly letting his nerves get the best of him.

“i love you too, dummy.” a pout takes over his face and he leans in close, breath fanning over your face. you lean in to press your lips to his, but in a flash, the hand the was on your cheek is now covering your lips. your eyes cross ever so slightly as you stare his hand down indignantly.

“uh uh, try that again, dummy.” he says, unable to keep the smile off his face despite his firm tone. 

with a roll of your eyes, you grab his hand and move it back to your cheek for him.

“i love you too, bin.” you offer and with an excited nod of confirmation, soobin leans back in, obtrusions long gone and finally presses his lips to your own.

[ssreeder]

Hii! I was super bored last night so I did a quick drawing of the meditation scene in chapter 14. I was struggling at drawing Zuko cause of the way he sits. He’s described as sitting “lotus position” I looked that up and it looks so uncomfortable. That’s why I’m team #CrissCrossApplesause. Anyways I hope your doing well!! :)

AWWWWWE OMG I LOVVVEEEEE IT!!!! Haha Aang & Momo in the second picture are adorable, and Sokka’s little “I love you” face at Zuko is amazing. Thank you for this it seriously is made my day!!

[kagender]

I wonder what if Pururu decided to become an Assassin like Dororo?

this actually gave me the idea to swap pururu and zoruru! pururu as an assassin, and zoruru as a medic. i think pururu would definitely be more reserved had she taken up the role of an assassin, probably to the point of intimidating the keroro platoon, minus maybe dororo. you can very much break this exterior though, she loves reminiscing about her childhood just like the giro/doro/kero trio and will excitedly retell some tadpole tales. this role swap would also likely result in her having a more active role in the garuru platoon arc which i think is cool! as you can see she has a scar on her face, gained from a battle with another assassin. her weapons of choice are almost pin-like throwing blades, to keep some of her needle theming in. now being the medic, zoruru would be the one responsible for the platoons' health checks. hes definitely more offstandish than most medics, taking things in an analytical and straightforward manner. i do wonder if he would still harbor some dislike for dororo? perhaps he would try to pull some medical malpractice on him. in this version, he lost his limbs from a nasty disease he contracted from a patient. this is also where his red eye and bumpy, scarred skin come from. he probably wears a coat when working but i didnt feel like covering his scarring up haha

[difeisheng]

各位蓮絡人們，新年快樂! it's been a slower winter holiday for me, but to start off the continued MLC brainrot in 2024, have a draft snippet with di feisheng's thoughts from a fic i'm chipping away at (inspired by @redemption-revenge's ideas on difang and archivist!fang duobing).

the first thing one might note if they were to enter the imperial archives of the great xi, housed in an unassuming wing of the palace grounds, is that they are far too dark. the windows, grand and admirable as they are in an effort to capture the sun, are not enough to illuminate the rows upon rows of shelves taller than any man. fit to be a forest they are, books, scrolls, coiled slips of bamboo lay stacked upon each. some neatly, others in haphazard formations to the side of an aisle or path, no resting place designated for them yet. the records all fall in as one, draped in shadow save for those in reach of the carefully set lanterns and candles.

these lights— poor but determined substitutes for that of the day— flicker disturbed by one's passing in otherwise still air, and perhaps that is the second thing to notice: that any breeze serves only to push around dust and the scent of old paper. other open, towering libraries and halls of learning are far more renowned, where one may enter and seek out like minds, or some to hear new theories from. archives such as this, important though they are for the dynasty's repository of knowledge, are to too many considered tedious. they house no great collections of classics or poetry, in lieu of concerning themselves with careful records and documentation. the average scholar would consider this building unworthy of visit, unless someone required a history on some person, or village, or particular official collation of such and such event. it is evidenced in the isolated sound of creaking shelves, the steps of only a few individuals in the entirety of the complex. this deserted quiet would be the third thing.

all that di feisheng's attention rests on, however, is the form of fang duobing.

he darts between cramped bookcases with ease, strides down aisles guided by instinct over senses. there is none of the carefree, ceaseless monologue to his presence, only his footfalls on stone, and so di feisheng is left with nothing but to trace his steps through this labyrinth in matched silence. for all that he'd met di feisheng for the first time in years with words chosen by purpose, not impulse, fang duobing had never struck him as one to keep his thoughts tucked away inside his head.

what happened to the young master with a voice of unwary privilege, making himself known to anyone who could listen? it took him too long to recognize fang duobing by the river's edge the day before, silent and solitary, the two of them studying one another for a frozen moment like any two strangers on the roads of the jianghu.

somewhere in the time gone by, cut by two paths of grief diverging, di feisheng missed the time that wore away fang duobing's rougher edges. not only with the learned hold to his tongue; the man before him stands taller, more confidence sketched in the fall of his walk and the grip of erya in one hand. if i gave you ten years, di feisheng told him once, you would be able to parallel me. in some ways, measured in more than their weapons, perhaps fang duobing has already risen to his level.

the same constant of a ponytail springs with each step, though. something still boyish hangs about him, as fang duobing's silhouette disappears around corners of this endless hall.

something once-familiar on a different figure, and so all too abruptly, between one instant and the next does the image of fang duobing blur into another.

this reunion between two of them should have a third, yet like the portrait that still hangs in baichuanyuan, an image unchanging, all they have is the recollection of how he walked away. seven years, and still unfound. seven years gone, left for somewhere no one could follow, and di feisheng tried to anyway but all he achieved is that now even fang duobing walks ahead (too far; when did di feisheng's footsteps falter?) and once is a joke, twice is shame, third is—

"老笛，你還在嗎?" fang duobing's boots scuff to a stop, and di feisheng blinks, illusion shattered. "we're almost there."

no, he isn't li xiangyi. it would be unjust of di feisheng to think otherwise.

back then, he never believed fang duobing could stand where li xiangyi once did, either. how time wears down the blade of a remark once-sharp, turned to something that could be almost merciful in how fang duobing looks back at him. equal parts concern, and curiosity.

"我在," di feisheng says, returned to the present, and fang duobing carries on.

[gokustits]

There’s no stronger bond than a girl and her unconventional comfort character

[todayisafridaynight]

guess what day it is

[revvywevvy]

oh hey, someone dropped lesbians in my bowl of cringe! (ref for s/i under the cut)

soooo... this is cherylle. shes a loser. but shes bittergiggles loser. i dont have much lore for her but im trying for babygirls sake. for now all ive got is girlie got drunk, stumbled into the hellzone that is that abandoned freakass kindergarten, and it was over from there lol