#Ouuhhh...

[golden--flowers]

Star wars tales of the jedi... ;_;

Oh I didn't know there was a tag limit. Okay last things are they were good episodes and I like how the clone wars animation style has evolved, the painty effect is neat

[waroferas]

for the loz requests, perhaps totk link in zelda's ancient hyrule dress? Been thinking about my own combo twin au/totk role reversal a lot, so this particular image has been on the brain lately

aw mannn i am so fond of role reversals now you've got Me thinking abt it

commissions

[asavt]

Something I wanted to try and do that I've been working on these past few days.

Some months(? ago I watched Nezha(2019) and after listening to FightSong like... a thousand times I was plagued with ✨thoughts✨! Wanted to try to do something like a "fake" project of sorts...

Some more thoughts about this under read more~

Explaining a bit more in depth of the idea because it's been plagging my mind for some time now (it's been marinating there and every time I listened to that song it would just gain more flavor).

Post-movie, canon divergence I guess?? Maybe?? Does it counts as an AU?? idk. The main points are that

1: Ao Bing technically betrayed his family and I was wondering if he would ever try to go back with them (would they or his father even allowed), I'm guessing not. I'm taking the path of him never going back home.

2: Nezha, after years have passed and people around him passed away (I guess), decides to try and use his other form (the one where he??? looks like a teen??? even when he's like three in the movie??? deities are confusing sometimes tbh). He's been practicing his control over this form, so far it's good. Sometimes he will revert back to the child-like one too.

3: It's been CENTURIES. Things changed, the place where they live would be closer to a modern-time city.

4: They don't allineate with anything. Like, no heaven, no dragons no demons. They go around doing what they believe would be right.

I am so willing to find a way to do a short animation with the song if this recieves enough attention. When would it be done or how clean would it look is another thing... But I would like to try if you guys are interested!

Also I should do this with other thoughts I have too. I have too many...

[hypnag0g]

Vutepose, the vending machine and interplanetary food export billionaire, and Roman, the unfortunate xenobotanist he hired to make Novian foods palatable to Aishish consumers. biting and maiming and killing and growing horrible fruits and veggies

(Vutepose's design was an adoptable purchased from @skunkes =:-] )

[silverfishcrackr]

yeagh.

[vanillimouse]

CW: Cannibalism (fantasized), blood, gagging (no vomiting), DARK

Thinking about a reader that struggles with love that’s all-encompassing.

Maybe you’ve been deprived of it and are fascinated by the concept—or the reverse, you’re spoiled rotten, no a foreign concept to you. Either way, you’re greedy. Looking upon human features with a sense of sonder isn’t enough. You need to touch them, crush them, own them. Squeeze the color out of their eyes and suck the melanocytes out of their skin.

A reader who knows that the average 250-pound hog will yield 150,000 calories’ worth of meat. A reader who knows this varies based on the pig. A reader who also knows that, essentially, humans are long pigs, similar enough to swap organs.

It’s natural to you that you’re drawn to men in the military. They’re the biggest, the baddest. The strongest—taking one down would be like a hominid versus a mammoth. The challenge excites you. And everything about them is documented well, from their muscle mass to their blood type. The government’s finest pigs, and you get to pick.

-

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Your love for him makes you feel awful.

It’s unfortunate that you met him. He’s lived an animal existence already—knows what it’s like for greedy things to pick and pick. There are scars on his body and nicks in his ears. He pads around like some sad dog. Not aimlessly, but like he believes he should be somewhere worse. Like he’s grateful for the nothing he’s gotten.

You think the universe has a sick sense of humor. You wonder if he lived as a lamb once and was butchered. And then was brought back to be human and butchered again. And again. Mentally, then physically, metal hooks cozy in his ribs. You wonder if you’re just fate for him. Because of this, you remain delicate.

He’s quiet company. So are you. You appreciate it. It lets you mull over him. Your favorite part of him is his eyes, you think. Feline almond made sultry by the paint smeared across his lids. Pretty, two matching voids, both framed by eyelashes more luscious than your own. You like the contrast; golden hairs, black iris. His gaze is sharp. You can tell where he’s looking even if you can’t see his pupils.

That’s a part you’d miss if you decided to devour him: his alertness. It must be hell for him, but it’s a wonder for you. His eyes eternally flick, scan. There’s an intelligence they’d miss if they glazed over. If they unfocused forever.

Your growth is proportionate to his. At first, it’s silent lunches spent together–revelment in and acclimation to a new source of heat nearby. If he grunts, so do you. If he speaks, so do you. You wonder if he’ll tire of you, interpret your mimicry of him as mockery. He doesn’t. If anything, he appreciates the space. You’re inoffensive.

Seeing his petals open only makes you hungrier. He’s quite talkative with those he’s close to. He’s goofy, too–something easy to miss under his deadpan delivery. When he fucks with you, it makes you greedy. Saliva pools under your tongue. He’d be warm, you think. Fit for a stew. Something that steams as high as the tea you both shared in your silence. Hardy, spiced. You pretend to hate his dad jokes.

When you lunge at him, it’s because he let you touch him. That was an unspoken rule for months–you didn’t touch him. He hovered in your space, tantalizingly close, casting a shadow over you, but he was off-limits. Not until he gave you the okay.

It was while you sat beside him on his bed, watching him craft a new mask. Another period of silence. Those were rarer these days, but still happened. You were happy to listen to his breathing, to observe the dexterity of his long, weathered fingers. He had gotten tangibly better at stitching. They were less visible. Straighter; neater. You would joke about it, but you were too comfortable.

You leaned in too close. You could blame it on his weight tugging you in his direction like a gravitational pull. You could also blame it on your peace-softened limbs, bones boiled down to jelly. Either way, your arm brushed his. You could tell it did because he tensed the microsecond before he felt the fabric of your long-sleeve.

You were ready to apologize. Fully prepared for him to kick you out, to ban you from the one place he found safe. You couldn’t conceptualize your punishment. It was a rule you had never broken before, not even by accident.

Your mouth opened and he silenced you. The roundness of your eyes and the way you gathered your body was sorry enough.

“‘S fine.” He muttered, but he stopped sewing. The needle sat frozen between his fingers, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. You cleared your throat.

“Could I, then…?” You were greedy. You were pushing your luck. “Just your shoulder, I mean.”

“Said it’s fine.” He huffed.

Your touch was light, experimental. Like he was a fragile bird that you got to hold. He didn’t tense as much because he expected you. You promised the shoulder, but your hand moved lower. Away from the dip of his collarbone to the expanse of his bicep. It was thick–your fingers, spread as they were, couldn’t wrap around it. You trailed lower, lower, lower still, until it was his wrist you were threatening. His hand had moved away from his lap. It rested on the bed, available to you.

Down a hand, he bundles the needle in the mask and casts it aside. “Pettin’ me like I’m a dog.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?” Your voice betrays the grin on your face.

You don’t even care to look up. You’re too engrossed in this. He runs hot, infernal against your fingertips. He’s pale enough for you to be able to trace his veins, so you do–trailing blue until you reach the leather of his palms.

“I hear that if you can see an ‘M’ on your palm, it means you’ll get married someday.”

“Yeah? You see one?”

“Yeah. And I feel sorry for the lass.”

He chuckles at that. It’s a low rumble, probably the closest he can get to a giggle. You like it. It makes you feel starved. With two of your own, you lift his limp hand. It’s heavy. Veins roll down his palms like lightning bolts.

You don’t know if you can handle this. His flesh is a temptation to you. He doesn’t understand that you want to score him and roast him over an open flame. You want him to be part of you forever. You think it’s beautiful, what male grasshoppers do to satisfy their mates. The idea of his body fueling your own is euphoric.

The attack is abrupt. You’re staring into the webbing between his fingers, then your teeth are in it. Specifically at his thumb where there’s a bit of extra skin. You clench your jaw as hard as you can muster, and to your surprise, he hisses. He’s human, but he didn’t strike you as one to show pain.

His blood trickles into your mouth. It isn’t much, as you didn’t clamp down on a hotspot. It’s thick and savory and rich to you. You groan and flex your jaw, chewing on him, urging more blood to eke out.

His hand tangles in your hair. It’s the roughest thing he’s ever done to you. The pain in your scalp is excruciating enough to loosen your jaw.

The noise you make when he forces you away from him is inhuman. Like a wounded animal, like a parasite detached from its host. Your eyes are misty. You’ve been caught. You don’t know how to explain that this is what love means to you. There’s no other method for you to cope. You want every piece of him that’s still intact.

“Please, S-”

“Easy, love.” He catches you before his name spills like his blood from your mouth. It’s gathered at the edge of your bottom lip. He didn’t bleed that much; it’s mixed with your spit. You’re drooling.

“I just need-” You grit your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. His wounded hand is moving. It cups and swallows the lower half of your face. His other hand remains in your hair, but it loosens.

This is a messy affair. He’s rubbing blood on you. His thumb, pad already slick with your spit, slides past your lips. He taps his nail against your teeth. The gates open. You allow him to slide his thumb over your tongue slowly. There’s a salty taste to him.

“Shoulda told me this ‘s what you needed.” He grunts. His thumb doesn’t stop moving, not even when your teeth pinch at him. This bite doesn’t seem to affect him. Either his fingers are less sensitive or you simply caught him off guard the last time. You gurgle.

He continues until his thumb hooks and a wave of nausea washes over you. You release his thumb, if not for a moment, and nearly choke on your spit.

“Careful.” He warns. “This better?”

In your valiant battle against vomiting, you push more saliva out of your mouth. It slips like molasses down to your chin. You try to bite again and manage. But when the pressure is too much, his massive thumb hooks again. This time, you do gag.

It’s torture. You can taste him, you can nip him, but you can’t gnaw on him. A tear rolls down your cheek.

“We can do this for as long as you like.” Simon purrs. He’s petting your hair, now, soothing you. You’re like a disobedient puppy to him.

You should be angry, but you honestly feel relieved. He knows how to handle you. He sees your sickness and treats you with the best medicine that he can think of. Your teeth grind—you feel thick skin shifting over bone. His tongue clicks.

He hooks his thumb.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

The Oath an older sister takes is on par with that of a Paladins, and sometimes upheld with the very same ferocity…

[mokutone]

ohhh hes MAD

[yoinkschief]

I feel like some of us have forgotten who we're talking about

[anonymocha]

Medbleu headcanon medbleu because you made me like this one more (Ex Balloon Party Baby Blue believer)

Baby Blue is KLS representation (I think) how cool. It's a very rare condition where people get so tired all of the time and will be asleep from weeks to months basically. Her way with living and coping with her illness has made Medicine Pocket a lot less morbid about their own condition and enjoy life more.

Baby Blue is more calm while Medicine Pocket is more limbic. Even though Baby Blue struggles between reality and her unending dreams, she has sleep-talked Medicine Pocket out of doing all kinds of awful things to themselves by slowly repeating back their answer to 'what are you doing'. Medicine Pocket wants to be someone she can depend on; they are more careful and steady when thinking of Baby Blue

Medicine Pocket, in turn, keeps Baby Blue safe when she is unaware of her surroundings. It was really crude at first but after they figured out it was impossible to change her condition they became more protective rather than bothered by the constant dreaming.

Baby Blue has a hundred nicknames/petnames for them. Medicine Pocket isn't confident with coming up with these names but she gets so happy whenever they come up with a new one. Blue's favorite name for them is 'Puppy'.

very wholesome..... Baby Blue requires Medicine Pocket to sleep with her for at least 6 hours a day. She can be little a clingy when Medicine Pocket comes home.

also also Blue mistook Medicine Pocket for a wonderlandshark at first and after she presumed them as such they had to step out of the room to try not to cry and explode thats True love .

📣Good Night USA

This is so important to me you have no idea ooouuuhhh 😭😭😭😭😭 I never thought of a proper proper wholesome dynamic between them to this extent and now I am enlightened…

This is a LONG post you have been warned. The MedBlue brainrot is SUPER REAL.

OK I CAN IMAGINE BABY BLUE CALLING THEM PUPPY IN THE SWEETEST SOFTEST SLEEPY VOICE EVER FULL OF GENTLE LOVE AND ADORATION… IM GONNA CRYYYYY AND MELT AND EXPLODE… Mental support Baby Blue is real (both in a meta and metaphorical sense).

I also like how she’s, in her own way, helping to keep the researcher in check. Someone has to keep her safe, therefore they also should keep themself safe so that they can be there for her. Yes, they love their job and the delightful dangers it brings with it. But they also have a person dear to them waiting for them. Also, in my headcanon, Medicine Pocket shelters a lot of supposed-to-be-experiment dogs at Laplace so they got to get it together for their pups, too (I imagine Baby Blue napping together with their puppies at the Laplace fields occasionally… Puppy tea party… Somft…). They want to take care of her and their pups, be dependable, and protect them. They used to think that this protection comes at the cost of their own wellbeing but NUH UH. Baby Blue's presence and words remind them that there are dangerous thresholds that they don't need to cross, no matter how 'logical' it seems.

She wants them to sleep with her an adequate amount of hours, therefore they cannot fuck up their sleep schedule by pulling impulsive all-nighters (I’m guilty of this too whoops). These two would get! Cozy! And Baby Blue would softly sleeptalk nonsensical but calming tales from her wonderland to help them sleep. I assume bedtime stories aren’t a very common thing in their childhood, especially when they got taken away with the beagles. So Baby Blue's whimsical, imaginative antics would be like taking back tiny but meaningful pieces of their lost childhood, stolen by a life of cold, clinical, and dangerous research. After they started sleeping with Baby Blue, her warmth and comforting stories allowed the researcher to get not only much-needed sleep, but also sating a yearning. A yearning for coziness and unconditional peace they likely brushed aside for a long, long time through the span of their childhood to teenhood.

On Baby Blue, a lot of people likely gave up on her. Doctor after doctor after doctor shook their heads and raised their hands after examining her condition. Teachers, friends, and even strangers are bewildered by her, calling her crazy, and treating her as more of a 'case study' or 'phenomenon' than an actual person. Those who did stick around her for a while couldn't stand her constant dreamings and tendencies to isolate, they either took it to heart or found themselves drifting away from her. It took her a while but she convinced herself that she was used to it, wonderland and its dwellers were her true friends after all. But at the same time, I feel like she would still realize that she's living in two worlds, and recognizes her loneliness in one of them. She tried to not think about it for a while but it likely bit at her some nights. Medicine Pocket may be the only doctor insistent enough to stick with her for longer than many others before them thanks to their stubbornness and curiosity. That's enough to get her attached to them, to say the least.

I WOULD LOVE TO SAY MORE THINGS ABOUT THESE TWO (such as her wonderland and their research on it, Baby Blue getting curious on Medpoc's research which led to them infodumping, more Baby Blue interactions with Medpoc's pups, Medpoc protecting Baby Blue from weirdo doctors at Laplace, etc etc) BUT I MAY NEED TO SLEEP GOODNIGHT INDONESIA 🔊THANK YOU ANON FOR THE ASK FEEL FREE TO SEND ME MORE OMG THE MEDBLUE BRAINROT IS REAL!!! I want to write a fic abt these two SO BAD. I want them to BE HAPPY!!!

[pocketmonstersspecial]

is digimon worth getting into??

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The games are generally agreed upon to be mediocre (at least the old ones, recently theyve been getting better at it, though theyre still not Perfect at all imo), but the anime is so so good. Like genuinely has made me cry its genuinely good anime. i love all the characters and their stories so much ouuhg,.. DONT watch the english dub though atleast in the second season they butchered it so fucking badly theyre like completely different characters they turned the main character into an incel and everyones an asshole Im genuinely convinced most people who dislike this season only do so because they watched the dub

[summerforg]

He farm wheat..

[zzoupz]

Airdorf seems to really like your art :O

yeah I think he found one of my older art that has tags on it and went on a fucking retweeting spree😭😭😭 this is so unreal to find out at 1 am I dont think i can go to sleep after tgis

[dirt-str1der]

Still thinking of the hc that majima has never killed a man in her life but nishida has and its not like hes the best at it or anything but like he could do it again

[fizzytoo]

need to kiss her real bad

[snakerdoodlle]

Red Queen x Star Wars AU

-

Welcome to Cat mashing together two of his hyperfixations in an attempt to get the slightest bit of motivation 🫰 thus, Dark Side Maven with a red lightsaber is born

You can interpret this AU however you want, I have no idea what I’d do with a plot line or whatever (as of rn) I just wanna draw people with glowing laser swords lmao