#it fits so well :D

[egophiliac]

figured I'd do Azul for his birthday(ish), and did the twins too while I was at it!

Azul gets Octillery and Tentacruel, Jade has Gorebyss, and Floyd has Huntail. all pretty obvious choices, but sometimes it is just obvious!

[freshocto]

reposting from my twt <3

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Ones Who Live - 1x01 - Years

[aimbutmiss]

I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING AT THIS SEQUENCE Zoro looks so concerned

[zu-is-here]

Eat your feelings

[asukachii]

Bonus panel!

[main post]

(I don’t like putting watermarks so, PLEASE, if you want to post this gif somewhere GIVE CREDITS! Also, don’t use it in edits/videos. Thanks~)

[alt-ernativewonderland]

Niko and Edwin talking about the Cat King

[eldstunga]

Whate'er seeming they may wear, know full well the Fey, and fear - Their fickle nature, dark and queer - For mortal laws no ken nor care, and 'neath their glamour sweet and fair - fell, their hearts,

and wild, their stare.

[beaulesbian]

One Piece ep. 257 || "That was really something. They don't call themselves pirates for nothing."

manga ch. 367

It was cute Luffy really did the peace sign in the manga as well!

+Bonus "That was fun."

"No human could pull that off"

[summershouto]

I kept thinking about luffy w/ this meme

[otaku553]

Some more spy x family one piece crossover doodles :)

A fic may or may not be in progress…….

Edit: the fic is posted :)

[sysig]

Light and darkness, but mostly darkness (Patreon)

[moussofshroom]

lusan and the crane wives???

[spielzeugkaiser]

I'm procrastinating so hard (and still coughing my lungs out) that I not only procrastinate on the things I have to do but also on the things I planned to draw, sooooo... another trans!Hinata piece 👉👈 Poor guy feels a bit insecure first.

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[zu-is-here]

✧ Studio Magazine ✧ [1]