#i need bloops

[hitching-hyacinth]

AT LONG LAST. PIRATE FIC IS DONE. 4.4k, genderweird lesbian pirates sharing a cold in D/&D-esque setting, please enjoy (gets n/sfw near the end)

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Kestrel sat slumped in the crow’s nest, so low that an observer down on the deck might not have seen them. Or, they should say, they hoped no one could see them. They’d been coming down with an ugly cold, one that left them constantly toying with the edge of a sneeze. No doubt caught off that bastard Belamy. Sneezing up a storm last night, he was—almost literally, with that air genasi blood. At least on lookout they could get some damn privacy.

They were looking out, sharply attentive despite their lax posture. It was just barely raining, coming down not in droplets but in a fine mist that clung to their skin and clothing. Just another layer of cold, damp misery on this gods-bedamned morning. Still, they squinted through the mist, scanning the water ahead for any sign of trouble.

Until their nose began to itch again. Kestrel sat up a little straighter, squinting now against the sting in their nose. They pulled the frills of their dampened sleeve over their hand and readied it an inch from their face, close enough to feel the heat of their hitching breath against their palm. Then they jerked forward into the frills, pinching their nose tight. “hh—! —’GHh!! —’Gkk! —’ktt! Ugh…”

But one breath was never enough, not for Kestrel’s stupid, twitchy nose. They kept their fingers firmly around their nose as their breath built again, fighting their nostrils’ attempts to flare. “hhh—! hhH’GTtss!! —’tss! h’tsSHw!!”

They coughed faintly to clear phlegm from their throat and pulled their nose from their sleeve, careful to mop up any mess before it could drip onto their face. Hurt their damn head to stifle like that, but not half as much as the headache the helmsman’s chirpy little blessings were starting to cause. Their nose still itched, but they rubbed the tip aggressively into their shoulder until the sensation faded.

And then they spotted it on the horizon: a smudge of red and gold. Royal navy ships. They hissed a curse and scrambled down from the crow’s nest, pinching back the urge to keep sneezing. Damn it. Damn it! Most of the crew could skate by an inspection, and the Golden Lady didn’t have any stolen goods on her, but whose faces were on the wanted posters? Kestrel’s and fucking Belamy’s. Kestrel had been to prison with Belamy once, and they’d swear to all the gods his company was almost worse than being alone.

They headed to the captain’s quarters and arrived more out of breath than they had any right to be—this damned cold! They knocked, muffling a breathless cough against a fist.

“Come in,” came the captain’s low voice through the door. There was an uncharacteristic huskiness to it, and when Kestrel opened the door, they found Captain Rienne, in the form of a hulking firbolg, with a handkerchief pressed to her cherry-red nose. Seemed even a changeling couldn’t chase away the signs of a head cold.

Kestrel cleared their throat. “Navy ships to sthh—fuck, excuse m—h’ISSHIEW! —’TSCHiew!! —ttshiew! —chsh!—fuck—hah’ITSCHWW! Goddamn—”

“Not you, too,” the captain sighed in lieu of a blessing.

“Navy ships to starboard,” Kestrel spat out, scrubbing their nose on the frills around the neckline of their shirt. “Looking for me and Belamy, no doubt.”

Captain Rienne sighed and sniffled thickly. “You’re paranoid, Kess. But find Belamy and get belowdecks in case you’re right. And take this.” She held out a clean handkerchief to them. “No one else had better get sick; it’s my last fresh one.” As if to make the point, she vented a loud, productive nose blow into the handkerchief she’d been holding to her nose.

“Thank you, captain,” Kestrel muttered, snatching up the handkerchief before they could start blushing for shame.

Now to find Belamy. No doubt he was sulking in his quarters nursing his cold as if the rest of the crew didn’t seem to have suffered the same fate. Kestrel marched to Belamy’s quarters, stopping only to muffle another rapid, fluttering fit of sneezes into the borrowed handkerchief. They wouldn’t mind the cold so much, they thought, if they could sneeze once or twice and be done with it. These silly little fits would be the death of them.

They knocked at Belamy’s door and barged in without waiting to find Belamy, sure as anything, nested up in his hammock in a state of disarray—hair loose about his shoulders, thoroughly dampened handkerchief cupped two-handed over his face, and a flush across his cheeks showing purple against his blue-gray skin. He slumped forward over his lap, letting the low-cut neckline of his blouse display more of his breasts than Kestrel cared to see.

How, Kestrel thought bitterly, did he manage to still look so damn hot like this?

Belamy didn’t seem to notice Kestrel, too busy with his brows furrowed, the just-visible bridge of his nose creased as his carefully steady breath began to falter, then to hitch, and then—"HAAESCHOO!!”—he snapped forward into the handkerchief, bending double at the waist as a gust of air burst off of him, blowing his hair back and even ruffling Kestrel’s across the room. Kestrel wrinkled their nose as the wind stoked the near-dormant ember in their own sinuses, bringing back that merciless tickle. They scrubbed their nose furiously with their borrowed handkerchief, staving it off for now.

For his part, Belamy coughed roughly into his own handkerchief, then blinked back tears and squinted at Kestrel as if just noticing them. “Hullo, Kess. You look like hell.”

“All thanks to you.” Kestrel sniffed sharply, folding their arms, “Navy ships getting closer. Captain told us to hide belowdecks.”

“Like cowards.”

“Like people with half a brain.” Kestrel pinched the bridge of their nose, rubbing away the beginnings of a headache. “Or did you want to go back to prison?”

“Belowdecks with you sounds an awful lot like prison,” Belamy muttered, but he rolled off his hammock and stretched his arms over his head with a slight cough.

Kestrel could say the same, but they bit their tongue and headed to the belowdecks storage without waiting for Belamy. If he wanted to stay out in the open and get himself caught, that was his own decision. Kestrel knew, at the very least, that the bastard wouldn’t rat them out.

They were fighting back another stupid fucking fit by the time Belamy joined them, their breath scissoring helplessly into their borrowed handkerchief, leaving them a bit lightheaded.

“Spit it out,” Belamy said indifferently, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

That was all the encouragement Kestrel’s traitorous nose needed. They snapped forward—“hh—! h’khshw! hH! —haH’ITSCHIWW!! —CHShIEW! —tssw!” They gasped a breath and pinched their nose in the effort to stop the tirade, but only succeeded in stifling the next, throat-scraping sneeze into silence at the cost of damn near blowing out their ear drums.

Belamy just laughed. “Gods above. Bless you.”

“Shut the fhh—! —the fuck up,” Kestrel muttered, scrubbing at their nose with the back of their hand. The skin around it was starting to rub raw and red, but what else were they meant to do with the incessant dripping?

Their small comfort was that at least Belamy seemed to be faring no better. Despite his posture, the flush around his nostrils was stark as day even in the dimmer light belowdecks, and he kept swiping a hand under his nose when he didn’t think Kestrel was looking. When he spoke, it was with a hoarse rumble that foretold a nasty cough taking him over soon enough. Kestrel relished the thought, though far less the thought of suffering the same fate themself.

Forty minutes the two of them stayed belowdecks, trading jibes while Kestrel made thorough use of their borrowed handkerchief. Belamy’s cough settled fast, and by halfway through the wait he was being pulled into harsher and harsher fits that almost made Kestrel pity the bastard. Almost, if it weren’t for the knowledge they’d be just as unwell by sundown.

Belamy’s breath caught dramatically where he lay on the ground and he raised a hand to his face, holding the back of his hand lazily a few inches from his face. “Fuck,” he muttered breathlessly. “I’m so sick of thhah…hHAHT—! nngh… hHAETChHOO!!”

Before he could quite recover, the captain’s voice boomed into the storage space. “Of course, officer, I’d be happy to show you belowdecks,” she said, deliberately loud enough to be a warning.

Kestrel yanked Belamy up by his lapels before he could react and dragged him to a nearby crate, whispering a steady stream of curses. They tumbled inside and Belamy, finding his bearings, scrambled in after, dragging the crate’s lid over them both just as the door swung open.

Well, this was hell. Belamy laid heavily on top of Kestrel. Despite Belamy’s efforts to keep space between them, the crate hardly allowed enough room to get any distance. And to make matters worse, the crate was dusty as all hell, and it was all Kestrel could do to stop their breath from hitching.

“You ought to keep your distance,” Captain Rienne was saying, sniffing audibly. “We’ve got a cold on board. Wouldn’t want you taking it to your ship.” A creaking sound as she sat on the crate Kestrel and Belamy were hidden in. She must be in a smaller form than her usual firbolg if the crate wasn’t cracking beneath her weight.

“Your concern is appreciated, Captain.” But judging by the sound of approaching footsteps, it didn’t seem to have been enough to scare away the officer. “Remind me where you’re headed?”

Kestrel tuned out of the conversation, their attention drawn irresistibly to the mounting need to sneeze—and to Belamy’s face, which was flushed and screwed up, tears in his eyes, as he tightly muffled a few coughs behind closed lips. What a pair the two of them made. What a pathetic pair, who were about to go to prison over a head cold.

But soon enough Kestrel’s own need to sneeze overrode their thoughts entirely, everything possessed by the burning itch burrowing its way deeper into their head. With no time to disentangle their limbs from Belamy’s, they instead yanked him still closer and buried their nose in his shoulder to muffle the sound of their hitching breath.

Belamy, thank the gods, understood and shifted to press himself tighter against Kestrel’s face. Kestrel flushed so hot they were sure Belamy must be able to feel its warmth as their chest twitched against his, and—

There, the captain was talking, just a little louder than was natural, and Kestrel released a flurry of harshly stifled sneezes into Belamy’s shoulder—“hh’g! —GH! —GKHh!!” They gasped, too vocal, but hopefully the captain’s voice still drowned them out—“hhih—! h’ITss! —Dsh! —gk! —d!” They scrubbed their nose against the rough linen of Belamy’s shirt, chasing away the last of the itch. For now.

Carefully, Belamy pulled away. “All right?” he mouthed.

Kestrel nodded, breathing carefully through their mouth as the captain kept chattering with the royal officer, fluently spinning lies about the Golden Lady’s cargo and heading. Belamy took a breath and held it with a hand over his mouth—he could hold his breath forever ordinarily, but Kestrel figured if that really helped stave off a coughing fit he’d have been doing it all along.

Sure enough, before long, tears were rolling down his face, his shoulders shaking with effort. A puff of air burst from between his fingers, short but rough and rasping, and the officer stopped talking.

“Something the matter, officer?” the captain asked innocently.

“Shh!” the officer chided. “There’s somebody else in here.”

A short pause. Belamy was so flushed by now Kestrel could see his tear-wet face darkening even in the dim light.

“I don’t see anyone,” said the captain.

“Step off that crate a minute, miss.”

Kestrel could practically hear the reluctance in Captain Rienne’s footsteps, but she moved away. A sliver of light broke through as the lid to the crate began to slide off. And then several things happened at once:

One, Belamy burst into a fit of coughing, rough and scraping and so wretchedly consuming he was more or less dead weight on Kestrel’s chest.

Two, the royal officer—a sturdy-looking human man with big red sideburns and a nasty scowl—flung off the lid and let out a triumphant cry.

Three, the captain, bless her soul, tried to talk her way out, even as Kestrel tried to squirm out from beneath Belamy. “What in the blazing hell are you two doing in there?” she said, her well-acted fury somewhat dampened by the obvious congestion in her voice. “Gods above, officer, I’m sorry about them. Can’t keep them off each other half the time—”

The officer yanked Belamy, still struggling to catch his breath, from the crate by the back of his shirt. “A merchant ship?” he said dryly.

Kestrel didn’t stick around to see the conversation play out—they leapt from the box, breezed past the officer, and ran like hell, hoping desperately he was the only one on board. Guiltily, they thanked their lucky stars Belamy was so much easier to recognize. Not many air genasi on the open ocean, but plenty of scrappy little half-elves.

They burst back to the top decks, scanning to assess the scene. Navy ship with the gangplank lowered, two other officers aboard the Golden Lady, talking with the helmsman and the cleric. Kestrel took a moment to catch their breath, which quickly turned into a scraping, needful coughing fit. Damn it, the last thing they needed was any attention. They turned casually away from the officers and hoped their hair had grown enough since the posters were drawn to make them harder to recognize.

“Euan,” called the cleric. Kestrel’s false name for when they had to go unrecognized. “All right?”

Dammit, Cariel. “All right,” Kestrel croaked unconvincingly, but a glance over their shoulder revealed one of the officers approaching, a pale-skinned, stocky-built elven woman.

“Euan, was it?” she said tonelessly. Kestrel nodded. “Officer Maylene. May I ask you a few questions?”

“Am I in trouble?” Kestrel asked, doing their best to play naïve. The cold helped, they thought, making them look just a touch more pathetic.

Officer Maylene’s brow furrowed. “Should you be?”

Wrong step. One more and they might be caught. “No, I j—h-hUH—!” Damn, not now, not when they needed to be on the lookout for any change in Officer Maylene’s expression.

Kestrel ground a knuckle against the underside of their nose, but it seems to have had quite enough of holding back. “Excuse me, officehh—hEH’ITTCHIWw!! hih—! h’TCHSHww! hAH’TCHHiew! Ngh, I’m sorry, I—hih’CHShww! —chhiww! —tshw! Fucking hell…”

The officer hummed dryly. “Bless you, Kestrel.”

“Thanks,” Kestrel muttered in the split second before their mind caught up to them. “It’s Eu—”

But Officer Maylene had Kestrel’s wrist in her grasp and twisted it hard, forcing them to turn their back. Kestrel cried out and reached for their rapier with their free hand, but Officer Maylene swept their feet from under them. They landed hard on their chest, knocking the wind out of them and setting them coughing as Officer Maylene planted a knee on their back and wrestled their other arm behind them.

One of Kestrel’s virtues, they’d long thought, was that they knew when they’d lost a fight. They went pliant and let the officer manhandle them, focusing on catching their breath while Officer Maylene lashed their wrists together and yanked them to their feet.

“I’ve got Blackcastle,” she called to her partner. Dammit, the least she could do was sound excited to have caught them. “Have you and Ollie got this handled?”

She must have gotten some kind of affirmative from her partner, because she nudged Kestrel forward. “Come on, Blackcastle. You’re with me.”

Kestrel wished they could say their mind was racing with plans to get themself free, but really all they could muster was panic and a steady stream of profanities. They didn’t struggle as Maylene led them off the Golden Lady and onto the royal ship, and did little more than swear at her and sniffle pathetically as she pushed them roughly into the brig. Dispassionately, she untied their wrists and locked the door, leaving them in the dark and damp.

They sniffled, cursed, and gave the door a few good kicks, which didn’t accomplish much beyond stubbing their toe. They slid down the wall and sat with their head in their knees, cursing themselves and Belamy and this stupid fucking cold and the fever that must be brewing for their eyes to prick like this.

Not much time to feel sorry for themself, though, before Belamy was thrown bodily into the hastily-opened door, sopping wet and snarling profanities between ragged breaths. The door slammed shut behind him and locked with what sounded like unnecessary force.

Kestrel cleared their throat. “What happened to you?”

“Damn bastards threw me in the water,” Belamy spat. “Too bad for them I d-don’t—drohhwhn—! h’AETtcHOO!!” Seawater jerked from him along with the spraying sneeze as he directed it towards his boots, leaving a string of mess hanging pathetically from his nose. He sniffed to little avail and Kestrel noticed belatedly his hands were still tied behind his back.

They stood and moved to untie them, but between the dark and the wet ropes it was slow going. Belamy shivered while they worked. If Kestrel was startling to feel a fever, Belamy was likely well into one—he had felt a bit hot crammed up against him in the crate—and being soaked through certainly wasn’t doing him any favors. Except aesthetically, a thought Kestrel mentally smacked themself for having.

“They didn’t try to drown me,” Kestrel said as the ropes dropped from Belamy’s wrists.

Belamy smirked. “Didn’t call ‘em shit-sucking Royalist pigs enough times.”

“Oh, like you’re some freedom fighter?” Kestrel scoffed, a sound that stuck in their throat and set them coughing until their throat hurt.

Belamy sighed and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Hell of a pair we make right now.”

Kestrel couldn’t help but agree. “Just makes it more embarrassing for them when we bust out of prison again.”

“When you do,” Belamy said, so casual Kestrel could almost dismiss the tremor in his voice as shivering. “I’m headed for the gallows.”

“What?” The word slipped from Kestrel’s mouth before they could think to mask their shock in aloofness.

“It’s my third escape.” Belamy stretched his arms over his head, affecting uncaringness frankly better than Kestrel was managing. But, hellish as a year in jail with him had been, they had learned to read him awfully well.

Kestrel sat down next to him. “So we’re getting off this ship, then.”

“The Golden Lady’s good as gone,” Belamy murmured. “We’ll give ‘em the slip when we reach shore. And, Kestrel?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t quit this time,” Belamy said, far too seriously for Kestrel’s liking.

Kestrel sniffed. “I don’t quit.” They sniffed again, congestion shifting in their nose and sending a red-hot itch through their sinuses. They pinched their nose, not about to give in to their own body and prove Belamy right.

“Hah! Right.” Belamy’s laugh carried an unmistakably bitter edge. “You weren’t quitting when you let that officer bring you in here? You were going to serve out your sentence when I met you; that wasn’t quitting? You’re not quitting every time you put on glamours to hide from—?”

“h’EISCHWw!” Not how Kestrel planned to shut Belamy up, but probably more effective than anything they could manage on purpose. “Ngh, shut thhh—the fuck—’tShhiew! hih’iETChhww! —tsShw! —chhiw! —Shut the fuck up.” They sniffed and dragged the back of their sleeve under their nose.

Belamy scowled. “You think you can—what?—sneeze your way out of this conversation? With the same fucking cold I have?”

“That you gave me,” Kestrel snapped. “If you bring up my family again—”

“Gods, you’re easy to work up,” Belamy said breezily. “Forget it, if you’re gonna be that way. I’ll just hang.”

“You won’t hang,” Kestrel spat. “I’m not quitting. I don’t quit.”

Belamy laughed, even coarser than usual. “That’s my girl.”

Kestrel said nothing, just glared openmouthed until Belamy laughed again. It shouldn’t surprise them anymore, the games Belamy plays with them.

But Belamy surprised them again by brushing a cold hand over their cheek, gentle despite the fever chills. “You’re beautiful when you’re pissed, you know.”

And all the gods damn it, Kestrel wanted him. Wanted him to think they were pretty, wanted him to rile them up, wanted him around their fingers while they kissed his stupid, chapped lips until he couldn’t run his mouth anymore. They already had his cold.

By the grin on his face, Belamy could see it. He pressed his palm against Kestrel’s cheek and ran his thumb over their bottom lip. “Remind me why we stopped doing this?”

“I hate your stupid fucking face.” Kestrel batted his hand away. They didn’t quit.

“Please,” Belamy said, “my stupid face is the only part of me you can stand.”

Kestrel could think of one or two other things, but they had to give him that. Still, they snarled and lunged at him, knocking him on his back and pinning his wrists to the floor. “Lucky you’ve got that going for you, or I’d let you hang.”

Belamy coughed, half-laughing through it, his face flushed. “Well? Don’t pin me down and not kiss me.”

So Kestrel kissed him, and gods damn his endless breath-holding, because it was them who kept needing to break away for air. They let go of one of his hands and let their own wander slowly down his fever-warm body. Briefly, they pushed a hand under his shirt and grabbed his tit.

Belamy gave a pleased, stuffy hum and tangled his newly freed hand in Kestrel’s hair as they brought their hand lower, slipping past his waistband and between his legs.

Kestrel yanked free of the kiss, breathing hard. “Wet already? You do like me angry.”

“Like I said,” Belamy said breathlessly. His breath caught, hitched—he pulled Kestrel down and muffled a violent sneeze into the crook of their neck, his breath hot, and fuck it wasn’t fair that he was still so beautiful even pathetically ill. The force of it spilled more wetness from him, slicking Kestrel’s fingers. They slid two inside him and Belamy gasped roughly even before their thumb found his dick.

Belamy slid his hand down Kestrel’s neck and dug his fingernails into their back, pulling himself closer as Kestrel curled their fingers and took his lips with theirs again, tracing slow circles with their thumb.

They don’t know how long it took, Belamy’s cunt pulsing hot around their fingers as he bucked into them. It was never long with Belamy—he was easy, even if he hated to admit it. When he came, it was almost gentle, a wave rolling on open ocean more than breaking against the shore. He clutched Kestrel’s shoulder and broke away from their mouth to lose himself in ragged panting until he came down. His touch turned soft, stroking the back of Kestrel’s hair, and they pulled their fingers free and wiped them sloppily on the side of his still-dripping pants.

Belamy laughed, then coughed, then wormed his hand free from where Kestrel still pinned him to the floor.

“I’m still pissed with you,” Kestrel murmured, and they even halfway meant it.

“Uh-huh.” Belamy coughed again, turning to the side, though that didn’t stop his hair from getting in Kestrel’s mouth as it whipped in the wind he stirred up. Without missing a beat, though, he hooked a finger under their waistband. “Would you still be mad if I—?”

A key scraped in the lock of the cell and Kestrel jumped off of Belamy as that fucking Officer Maylene strode in. She raised an eyebrow, her expression thoroughly unimpressed. “Your captain wasn’t lying about keeping you two off each other.”

Kestrel scuttled further from Belamy, blushing furiously. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, I suppose.” Maylene shrugged and locked the door behind her, a hand resting pointedly on the scimitar at her hip. “I just thought you might want to know you’re wanted alive, Blackcastle, but the Royal Guard are willing to compromise.”

Belamy sniffed derisively. “We know the Crown’s half-assed morals already. You didn’t come in here to make threats.”

Maylene’s lip curled. “The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is that I can’t be bothered to clean your blood off the deck.”

“Please,” Belamy scoffed. “We both know it’s because the Crown wants me to die spectacularly.” His grin was more a baring of teeth. “Don’t worry. I’ll deliver.”

Just for good measure, Kestrel spat at her, though the rapidly losing battle against another fucking sneezing fit was robbing them of the breath to speak.

Maylene rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll make a pretty corpse.”

“hh’IIShiew! —tchshw!” Kestrel took a sharp breath and snapped forward again into a desperate “ng’tchw! hih—hih’TCHww! Ngh—”

Maylene said something no doubt infuriating, but Kestrel was coughing too hard to hear her, throat scraped raw by the sneezing. They didn’t bother to cover their mouth. They hoped everyone on this ship got sick—petty revenge, but they’d take what they could get.

“Great,” Belamy was saying by the time they recovered. “Don’t suppose you’ll bring us a little whiskey for the cough, too?”

Without gracing that with a response, Officer Maylene left, leaving the two of them again in the dark with a click of the lock.

“Bet I could kick that lock in,” Kestrel said coarsely.

“And then what?” Belamy laid back on the floor, stretching his arms over his head.

In lieu of answering, Kestrel cleared their throat.

“We’ll get out when we dock,” Belamy said. He was never much one to be comforting, exactly, but his tone was almost gentle now. “Captain Rienne knows where they must be taking us. We’ll give ‘em the slip and lay low long enough for the Golden Lady to find us, and then we’ll get some goddamn rest until this all blows over, right?”

And they would. They always had. Kestrel wouldn’t quit, and the two of them would worm their way out of the Royal Guard’s clutches before they even caught sight of the gallows, and maybe they’d even find the time for Belamy to fuck them before they were back on the Golden Lady where word would get around.

For now, though, all they could do was wait.

[zephyrine-gale]

momocon catalogue!! I'll be at AA-1310

see you there! <3

[fierykitten2]

Spoilers for today’s Doctor Who episode

So when 12 was announced we got memes of The Thick Of It in Doctor Who, when 13 was announced we got memes of Broadchurch in Doctor Who and when 15 was announced we got memes of Sex Education in Doctor Who. Does that mean we’re about to get memes of Doctor Who in Doctor Who?

[maehwajuuuu-chu]

I need to work on the headdress and other clothes parts, but I'm quite happy with the mask so I guess I wanted to show a little bit of my current plans and etc hehe :D I got inspired by the Serpent Mask of Quetzalcoatl for the mosaic aspect of the mask This is a former pyro archon design I'm working on (look lore said there was a bunch of pyro archons before the current one - THATS LIKE NUMEROUS POSSIBILITIES...so yes I wanted to give one a try a few months ago and look which hot milf is stuck in my brain now lols)

[jabibi-the-beef]

when is the best time to start posting fanart do i just throw it into the void and hope you koi fish draw near or will you be like the clouds running away from the sun amidst the texas heat

[anathemav360]

actually, since impulse’s birthday’s on miku day…

[bloopsalot]

I needed a warmup and my favorite comic artist (@modmad) stared a prompt where you draw kiddy you with what could be your starters!

Realistically my starter would be my childhood dog, represented by the Arcanine, Buuuut I also started my internet journey at like five And we lived close to a power plant, hence the Porygon2.

Pachirisu was also one of my imaginary friends growing up, so I'd be remiss if I didn't add my best friend!

[misswifi]

I don't think alot of people understand how much of an influence their friends can be. Those people you have formed a bond with, seeing some as family even. It's hard to break a bond like that through the years.

I had to cut alot of people out of my life, alot of them were people I saw as family with everything but blood. But their influence on me was terrible and I was afraid of becoming like them.

I was thinking back on one of my OldOLD friend groups. These two girls I had known for atleast 5 years and trusted them alot. (Ps. There was no backstabbing involved) But I wasn't comfortable sharing my achievements, stressed thoughts, stuff I did for fun or even any problems I had. They always found a way to turn something soo good and smth I loved in my life into some negative thought. Always seeking out the negatives never just truly enjoying life and being happy or giving sympathy to your friends. They didn't care about how I felt and they always tried to get me to follow their bad habits.

No I don't want to read you smut books or watch scenes where people sugarcoat it

No I don't want to vape and smoke

No I don't want to give up all my free time to help you because you don't want to do it yourslef

No I don't want to be the one always giving and never recieving

No I don't want to smack talk other people

No I don't want to be the child that talks bad about their parents

No I don't want to cuss or swear

No I don't want to stop reading my Bible

No I don't want to stop being friends with my other friends

No I don't and I never wil want to do those

I know my values and I may be seen as stubborn or even a 'bad' friend but I don't care. I know my worth and I know which path I want to follow. And that isn't the path I want to follow

[mistermalaprop]

turns out giving me free will has consequences

I can't look at myself omg what have I done

OOH this is a wonderful picture to have while eating my dusty ahh sandwich thank you so much— wait…

CROSSHAIRS HAND OMG

DONT PANIC STAY CALM SRAY FUCKIN CAALMM

This is so tasty I’ll be thinking of this for a while… I need to draw more sussy stuff since I drew that SureRod piece a bit ago..

[hitching-hyacinth]

lil sketch dump of stuff I probably won't finish

[leztit]

the worker crawling on his hands and knees toward lestat's chair like a child who's just seen a box of blueberries fall out of the fridge

[meowrimo]

my type ? swordsmen who show off their chests ??

[redactedbloop]

Hush first hug video when?

[kyrawaff]

We got what we came for! 1 skin down, 1 to go!

And a round of applause for the squad that made it all possible <3

Blue Poison, im coming for your workout skin next!

[lillotte17]

.

[bloopsalot]

I would like to see your plush sona!!

omg!!! Well I dont have a Lot of fully finished art of the plushiesona but I do have this which is my intro banner for my comic's patreon!!

My sonas been kinda my main warmup doodle when i cant figure out what else to draw so I have a few things. Main threads are: big shirt that says "shirt" and overall ankle-biter energy