#and like a little insecure

[blamebonk]

Man who hates his job

[robotbeetle]

Arise, Bloodpact nation; I bring forth an offering

Though tbh this is not very accurate to the characters. I don’t think Astarion would doubt even for a second if Wyll would reject Halsin or not. I mean it’s Wyll we’re talking about here. However, in my Wyll playthrough; after Halsin’s proposition and asking Astarion for his thoughts, I couldn’t help but pick up a hint of insecurity despite him giving his permission (i rejected Halsin regardless). Thus this comic appeared before me.

On a separate note, id like to shout out my friend who I’ve been slowly converting into a wyllstarion shipper and who also hates halsin

[blondie-drawings]

I recently got a bunch of TNG novels at a charity shop and this passage from the FIRST BOOK is making me feel craaaaazy

[malcontentonline]

New animatic I thought y’all who’ve followed me recently may enjoy obviously inspired by @ludwigplayingthetrombone and they’re galaxy brain connections and wonderful animatics

[nsharks]

preview (again) of part 20 | bleeding blue :-)

The heat dissipates as you land hard.

Dread takes hold of you.

It's Blue— screaming.

You fly up to your feet, spitting dirt from your mouth, and break into a sprint. Ghost is already meters ahead, grabbing the knife from his ankle, inspiring you to do the same. Voices—unintelligible, but unmistakably human—grow clearer with each stride towards the camp. Visitors. Ruthless blood pumps in your ears. If they have dared to hurt her...

Ghost makes it there first. You part through the trees and snap your eyes over the clearing, relieved to see Blue behind the fence. Still draped in an oversized sleep shirt, she juts the tip of one of her dad's rifles through a gap in the fortification, aiming at four intruders. 

"Don't come any closer or I-I will blow your heads off!"

"We're not here to hurt you," one says: grizzled. Calm.

At first glance, they don't appear threatening, but you know better than to make that sort of judgement, your fingers tightening around the handle of your knife as you ready your stance the way Ghost has taught you. Two of them are mounted upon a brown horse—a teenaged boy and a woman some years older than you—with two men flanking their sides, chests swollen in tactical gear and backs mounted with rucksacks.

Their clothes are dirtied but they don't seem helpless. The men are tall and brawny, nearing Ghost in size. The older one, who you figure was speaking to Blue, wears a tattered boon hat and sports a dense, brown beard.

You make a quick sweep of your eyes to detect any weapons and spot the distinctive 'L' of a handgun at the younger one's waist. He hasn't withdrawn it yet, even as their heads slant in your direction, but you don't wait for him to—arching the knife in one swift motion above your head.

Ghost grabs your wrist. 

His stance shifts as he stares back at them. Then, he motions for Blue to lower the gun.

You jerk your wrist free with a quiet hiss. “What are you doing?"

He doesn't spare you as much of a glance and strides brusquely across the dew-lit grass, leaving you there by the tree line. Confusion knots your stomach. He greets the bearded stranger with the gruff utterance of a name: "Price."

He... knows them. The realization hits you, widening your eyes, but you’re too bewildered to move even an inch.

A masculine gesture ensues when Ghost reaches him; a clap to his shoulder, a nod of his head. "Simon."

Simon?

Then, the younger one steps around the horse and you instinctively flinch, half-expecting him to whip out that gun of his, but instead he offers Ghost a tilt of his chin and a worn smile. "Lt."

"Kyle.”

The exchange is perfunctory. You listen from paces away, unsure where your place is in this.

Nervousness has you fiddling with the blade of your knife, needing something to do with your hands. It is difficult to make out their words for a moment, deep voices turned to short murmurs. You glance a sideways look at Blue and find her eyes rounded in curiosity.

The next words you make out are from Price. "This is my wife, Nereida," he says and helps the woman down from the horse. Even from your view, you can tell she is beautiful in a raw, Grecian way. Fatigue paints violet beneath her dark eyes, and her hair is spine-length and black.

The young boy slips down beside her.

"And this one is—"

"My nephew," Kyle says. "Ari."

Now that you're looking closer, the relation between the two is evident, from their dark skin to the smooth bridges of their nose. The boy reaches a hand out to Ghost but it is left ignored. He clears his throat and waves for Blue to come over. She hesitates for only a second before unlocking the gate and darting to his side.

"I'm, um, Blue," she introduces herself, playing with the hem of her shirt over her knees. "Sorry for... threatening to shoot you. I didn't realize you know my dad."

"We're sorry for scaring you," Nereida offers.

Blue scrunches her nose. "I wasn't scared."

[zipsunz]

universally loved 💐

here's a version with all of the senders labelled!

[a2zillustration]

Buddy we literally JUST read a scroll about hubris AND you were just inspired about something called "Don't let history repeat itself," that 10 wis stat is really coming through.

| First | | Previous | | Next |

[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[napping-sapphic]

idk what girl out there needs to hear this rn but your big/pointy/crooked/etc nose is SO cute and also i’m SO gay for you like insanely gay for you

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i can’t really explain this properly but suguru is a “you’re mine, and i’m yours” kinda guy while satoru is just “i’m yours”….. do u get what i’m saying.

[dotts-inkings]

My prompt from @sixteenth-day-event was Ghostbur and Tommy - shovel ! This was a lot of fun to work on, working on painting practice :]

[nouverx]

More pages from my sketchbook, completely unrelated to Hazbin this time.

Those skulls are real items that I have in my apartment btw!

[starrysharks]

reassassination swap AU... fuckin.... unassassination idfk

[earlgodwin]

(When asked if the slap was real and unscripted) "Yes. Yes He did! We only did one take, he warned me it was coming, but Jeremy isn't the kind of actor to do something without a genuine intention!" — DAVID OAKES

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[fisheito]

rereading the nuca pink doujin and seeing yakumo tear himself apart re: his snake form vs his human form all this agony and self-doubt and silent suffering and fear of rejection like "if i looked less human would u hate me" , "if u saw me in my true form wouldn't that be horrible. terrifying. disgusting" , "if i admitted i want to swallow you whole would you think worse of me"

and i imagine him asking something like this to the crowd of clan members , who are , undeniably,, a group of Kinky Fuckers

they all smile with the serenity and carefully masked excitement of a horny olivine. masterful beautiful reassuring expressions (errr..... masked to different degrees depending on the clan member)

[foxett]

More suntan because I'm an attention seeking artist hey guys!!!