#let's have more fun! ;D

[c00kietin]

more doodley cookies- but meme templates >:D

featuring my oc :]

images I used:

[skitskatdacat63]

"Non paeniteo potitus."

+ details & process

And, process !!

The jump btwn the second to last and last always surprise me whenever I make one of these because I always forget to take snapshots after I start painting. It's always like: oh yeah heres the lineart with some colors- BOOM fully finished✨️

What he's holding are the Austrian imperial scepter and orb, seen below:

I was going to draw the crown too but decided I don't hate myself that much(maybe some other day), and gave him a golden laurel crown, bcs I'm obsessed with that as a motif, and also its very remincient of the boy king statue that started this whole thing!

There's some symbolism of this, both intentionally but also just historically. I love that the orb represents that the monarch is holding the world in their hand, basically every old monarchy has one of those, and I think it's very cool for symbolism. But also bcs of that, I was forced to basically draw catholic fanart so, you win some you lose some. The star halo above him head is both to reference those religious statues with star crowns(I saw them a lot in Europe and they imprinted onto my brain), as well as: his four championships of course!

[irafook]

Nika x Law sketch for @nimudae (part of @lawluevents gift exchange)

[spacebubblehomebase]

Um, hello! Excuse me, but I have an-

ASK FOR YOU ALL!!!

I wanna try doing a Radioapple drawing session with other people who might be interested. Just one of those open ones for funsies and will be mostly focusing on fluff as that's my thing and I wanna meet this new community I'm in. But I don't know how. Do I need an app for this? It's unfortunate if it's because I have to pay something, but after my Finals week, I really wanna reward myself by drawing happy "shippy" stuff with you guys! ☺️ If it's at all possible, can someone tell me how? It would be greatly appreciated! 🙏 And maybe I'll even see if we can do this with those sweet Radioapple shippers on Twitter too! (And yes. I REFUSE to call it "X" or whatever.) I want it so baaad drawing with others in real time and seeing cute stuff is all I want in life PLEASE TvT haha I technically have so much to draw as I'm an art student, but it's just not the same as drawing with others while technically NOT being with others. It's like a happy middle ground for introverts and extroverts alike! Anyways, I'm rambling, but if anyone could answer this, do hit me up be it my DMs, comments or Asks, I'll be grateful for the help. Technology eludes me. 🥲 Haha. -Bubbly💙

[sysig]

Somebody ordered Sushi Beefcake (Patreon)

[good-beanswrites]

If ur still doing reqs id love older brother and little siblimg 0003!! I love es and fuuta sm, you can choose what they do but id rather it be post/no milgram!! Tysm

Ahh this was such a sweet request, thank you ✨ I had a lot of fun with it! I kept the details loose -- I don't know how t3 actually shakes out -- but Es still doesn't know much about themselves, so they end up moving in with the Kajiyamas. Enough time has passed for things to become fairly normal between the two.

“What are you doing? It’s giving me the fucking creeps.”

Fuuta made a disgusted face, but Es didn’t seem to notice. They just kept standing in the middle of the kitchen. It was 3am. They were barefoot, wearing one of Fuuta’s old pairs of pajamas. They stared at the countertop intently. They hadn’t even turned on the lights. Fuuta waved his phone flashlight around, trying to see what they were up to. It didn’t look like anything had been touched.

He took a step closer. His nerves were already on edge, coming into the kitchen to steal a late night snack and finding them standing ominously in the darkness. The little bit of light from his phone reflected in their icy gray eyes. 

“Oi, Es…?”

Sleepwalking. That had to be it. Fuuta rolled his eyes, breathing a small sigh at the realization. The sound was somewhere between relief and annoyance. Es was an odd kid as it was. It had been strange getting used to them living in his house, and now he had to deal with freaky stuff like this…

Fuuta approached as quietly as possible, putting his phone down. He reached out his hand. He planned on guiding them back to bed in silence, but he must have been too harsh with his grip. 

Es gasped, the dull look in their eyes turning to shock.

Fuuta immediately leapt backwards, his startled curse turning to frantic apology.

“Y-you were sleepwalking, I was trying not to wake you up but…” he trailed off, seeing Es scan the kitchen and get their bearings. 

“It’s alright. I’m used to waking up in strange places, I suppose.”

Fuuta grimaced. ‘Odd kid’ was an understatement. 

They didn’t seem to notice. Their expression had darkened. “I… I was dreaming. I was back there, and,” their voice shook with sudden emotion. “And we were all…” their breath caught.

“Hey, don’t go and start cryin’ on me.” They didn’t sound like they were going to cry exactly, but he couldn’t be too careful. He wouldn’t know what to do. “You’re not some baby. All of that is over now.” 

Fuuta had meant it as encouragement; he knew how strong Es was. As strange as they may be, they were the toughest person Fuuta had ever met. Realizing that his words may have come out a bit harsh, he tried to speak softer. “Really, it’s all over. You can relax here.”

Es nodded, but stayed silent. The two stood in the dim glow of the flashlight.

Fuuta coughed. “Now, did you want something, or…?” He gestured to the fridge, then made his way around them. He dug around inside for a snack. 

“N-no. Thank you. I’ll be heading back to bed, then. I’m sorry to have frightened you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” Fuuta said quickly. He took out something, sniffed it, and shrugged. “And anyway, it was way less terrifying than when Haruka did it.”

“Haruka sleepwalked?”

“Yeah, and when you wake a normal person up from it, they’re supposed to go into fight or flight. None of us were itching to deal with Haruka’s fight response, you know?” Fuuta took a big bite. He turned to find Es with a miserable look on their face. Through the food, he mumbled, “what?”

“I… I didn’t know that. About Haruka.”

“Okay?”

“There’s so much I didn’t know about all of you.”

“You also didn’t know jack shit about yourself, so we can call it even.” Fuuta took another bite, assuming the conversation was over.

Es wasn’t as satisfied. “I mean it,” they said, their voice still strained. “I thought I knew you, but I’ve learned so much here. There was so much I didn’t know about you. I never knew what your family was actually like, or how well-kept your room is,” they gestured to him, “or that you hardly ever sleep normally.”

Fuuta couldn’t tell if it was a criticism or not. He clicked his tongue. “Well, I never knew that strawberry milk was your favorite, but you don’t see me getting misty-eyed about it.”

Es had opened their mouth to continue, but they blinked in surprise. “How did you know I liked it?”

“Because I like it, and you keep drinking everything in the house.” He rolled his eyes.“I bought twice as much last time I went out, and you still ended up stealing it all. There’s only one little carton left…”

Es’ face slowly softened. Then, a devilish smirk crossed their lips. “You know, I thought I heard that milk is good to drink before you go to sleep…”

“Eh? Oh, hell no! That’s mine.” He went back to the fridge, rummaging around to get it.

“Says who?”

“Says me. I’m older. And I liked it first.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. And I should get it because I’m younger.”

“Now that doesn’t make sense!” Fuuta retrieved the milk. He turned the carton over in his hand. A thought crossed his mind – one he would never speak aloud to anyone, ever. He recalled his sister helping him when he was too small to reach the milk. She used to heat it up for him before bed.

He lazily tossed it across the kitchen. “Not like I care. Here, be grateful.” 

Es scrambled to catch it. Once again, their expression turned emotional. “Fuuta…”

“It’s not a big deal, sheesh!” He picked his phone up from the counter, biting down on the snack he’d grabbed. “Like I said, all that is over. You just gotta be normal now. I know that’s hard for a weirdo like you –”

“Hey!”

“– but just try, okay?” He shoved Es’ shoulder as he walked. “C’mon. Pops doesn’t care when I’m up, anymore. But he’ll give a goody-two-shoes like you a lecture if he hears.”

“I’m not a goody-two-shoes.”

“Psh, you’re the worst I’ve ever seen!”

“There’s nothing wrong with being disciplined.”

“Drink your damn milk.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[nvrfearthefall]

They're on their way to kick your butt! 🤜🤛

[oatbugs]

pls i need to provide updates

[happy-hermit]

Part Two of White Hair Scar fic !!! This man is going through it <3

Part One

@stiffyck

--------

He’s lucky he doesn’t run into anyone on the way back to the Swaggon, because when he climbs into his bedroom and glances at the mirror, the first thing he sees is white. More than there was before. Way more. 

The entire front section of his hair is now a stark, unnatural white. Scar stands in front of the mirror and slowly takes his hat off. It won’t help, anymore. He’ll have to find a new way to hide. 

What is this? His mind works frantically behind a layer of numb acceptance. Why is this happening? Why is it happening again? 

It’s like his hair has given up on holding a color. It’s almost as if his body is forcing him to have some outward sign of his internal struggles, which isn’t fair; not when he’s trying so hard to keep it hidden. Tears prick at his eyes, but he stubbornly blinks them away, exhaling shakily and looking up at the ceiling. There’s a cobweb in the corner. He’s been away for too long. It feels like he hasn’t really come back at all. 

(Would that really be so bad? If he’d stayed gone? If he’d stayed there? No one has seen him since they’d gotten back. No one has come looking for him. No one cares if he’s here or not.)

The faint echo of the harsh words drifts through his mind, and he closes his eyes tightly, breaths coming faster. The phantom burn wounds spread across his body start to sting. It’s like he’s burning all over again, dying and dying and dying—

The mirror cracks as he turns it around so its reflective surface is facing the wall, and his hand is shaking where it now rests against the back of it. He’s lost the battle against the tears in his eyes, but at least now he doesn’t have to see it. And he’s alone. So no one else has to see it, either.

(No one would want to. No one should have to. He is not allowed to be sad, or angry, or lonely. He is only allowed to be happy, to be quiet. To be alone.)

The floorboards creak as he collapses down next to his bed, painful sobs wracking his body even as he tries so hard to stop them, even as he holds his trembling hands against his mouth, as if it would do anything — as if his hands could ever be anything but clumsy and unsteady and useless. 

The sun outside has set, and the lanterns in the room are burning bright. Scar can see his reflection in the window. He gets the honor of watching in real time as another section of hair turns white, bleeding slowly from his roots to the ends. He whines high in his throat, heart dancing to an offbeat drumline in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard that it hurts. His knees pull up to his chest and he hugs them tightly, pretending that it’s someone else holding him close, pretending that someone cares enough to comfort him, pretending that he is someone who deserves it.

Scar is on the floor in a room that doesn’t feel like his, in a world that feels wholly separate from him, and he falls asleep holding his own hand.

—-------

In his dreams, he is standing alone in a vast expanse of darkness, and someone is speaking to him. 

(You are trapped here) says the voice, gleeful and cruel. Mocking. (This will not change, and you will not change. You don’t know how, do you?)

“Who are you?” Scar demands shakily, and his voice echoes in the infinite space around him. “Where am I?”

(You could be anywhere) says the voice, and the inky blackness surrounding him ripples and changes and suddenly he is standing in the desert, cactus growing in a ring around him. (You could be here.)

No. Scar lets out a strangled gasp and stumbles backwards, sand grabbing at his ankles, blood dripping into his eyes, and he is tripping and falling and landing—

On a mountain. His wizard hat base is rising into the sky above him, and the wind is howling, and even his breath has left him. His vision is blurry. He cannot think. Please.

(You could be here) the voice continues, endlessly amused, and the world fades back into darkness. (You could be anywhere. But you can only be yourself. And you will always—) Scar gets the impression that the voice has gotten closer. (— be alone.)

“Who are you?” Scar asks again, broken and quiet. 

The voice chuckles, and the hair on the back of Scar’s neck stands up. (Don’t you know?)

It's right behind him—

Scar whirls around and comes face to face with— Red eyes. Horrific burns. Black cloak. White hair. 

His distorted mirror image grins at him, cruel and unforgiving. (You never were that bright, were you?)

—-----------

Scar wakes up screaming.

His breath rattles in and out of his lungs at unhealthy speeds as he scrambles into a sitting position, eyes wide and darting around the room. He’s shaking so hard that the bedframe is rattling quietly against the wall. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears. 

It was just a dream. Only a dream. Scar closes his eyes and counts to ten, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. When he opens them again, he is at least less likely to pass out.

He had moved to his bed at some point in the night, but now his covers are strewn about the floor due to his frantic movements. The sun is bright outside his window, and he knows without checking that it’s nearing midday. His head hurts. There are dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He is still shaking.

He gets out of bed anyway, sitting on the edge for a few moments before finally finding the courage to stand. He staggers over to the big chest against his wall and kneels down beside it, flinging it open and digging through it with trembling hands. Finally, he finds what he was looking for, and pulls it out onto his lap. 

A worn green cloak, hooded and heavy. Just another one of those items of clothing that he keeps for just-in-case purposes. It’ll come in handy, now. It’s perfect for hiding. He doesn’t have to look to know that his hair has gotten worse.

The cloak falls over his shoulders, a comforting weight, and some of the tension drains out of him. He’s only just woken up, but he’s tired. He is tired in a way that he doesn’t think can be fixed.

I need to go away, the thought appears unbidden in his brain, a quiet certainty. No one can leave him, if he leaves first. I need to build somewhere else.

It wouldn’t be for long, or for good. It would just be… a place to go. Just in case. Somewhere out of the way. 

He starts making a list of materials he’ll need for his new base in his head as he walks toward the door, already workshopping different themes and ideas. He pulls his hood firmly over his head and reaches for the doorknob, puts his hand on it, and he— freezes.

What if someone’s out there? His mouth goes dry, his hands going clammy. His heart speeds up, just a little. What if they want something?

Scar shakes his head forcefully and turns the knob. Stop being stupid, stop being scared.

He walks through Boatem with a few empty shulkers in his inventory, one hand on his hood to keep it down and the other twisted into the front of his shirt as he struggles to fight off his nerves. There are a few gray clouds hanging over the horizon, but they are far away, and the sun is shining. He wonders where he should go. Where would be far enough. 

He equips his elytra absentmindedly, just finishing when distant movement catches his eyes, and he turns, heart in his throat.

Grian and Mumbo are sitting on top of Treesa, and Scar has to squint to see what he thinks is a picnic. They’re eating lunch together. It is simple, and casual, and such a small thing, and Scar aches.

Mumbo spots him and raises his hand in a wave. Grian turns and does the same. Scar hesitates, mind running a mile a minute, his heart skipping stones across a violent ocean in his chest, and then he waves back. His hand shakes, and he drops it quickly, continuing his walk.

For just a moment, he considers turning back. He considers going over there. He considers throwing his entire plan out the window and begging them to let him stay. 

Instead, he pulls rockets out of his inventory. 

(Rule number one. Don’t go where he’s not invited.)

Scar picks a random direction, and he flies.

[artist-rat]

swordtember ended over a month ago but i wanted to do more! :') these are based on prompts sent in via replies and asks (tysm all!) (+ the last one an extra, a design i came across in my old sketchbooks a while ago)! from left to right: ball python, tiger, lion, balance, earthworm, pond

[atanxdoesstuff]

nejisasu doodle! a universe where the hyuuga's slavery bs doesn't get ignored and Neji and Sasuke are better off for it (and also they're married)

[cathalbravecog]

i'm the antonymph of the internet

[sysig]

Red Tape tied in a bow (P1 | P2 | P3) (Patreon)

Also decided to give a go to the caption thing again since this one’s rather dialogue-heavy!

[Panel 2] Peepers: Uhm...sir? Hater: What. Peepers: Could you- do you have the full paperwork on our health plan?

[Panel 3] Hater: Health plan? Peepers what in grop’s name are you talking about??

[Panel 4] Peepers: It’s really no big thing, I just wanted to see what was (and wasn’t) covered-

[Panel 5] Hater: Commander Peepers. Are you planning to commit insurance fraud on my dime? And you’re asking me how?

[Panel 7] Peepers: P- hahahaha! I would never dream of it, Lord Hater!

[Panel 8] Hater: Then-? Peepers: I just want to see what’s covered, sir. Like I said already...

[Panel 9] Hater: Hrmph. It’s all personally approved by me, so feel free to ask, Commander.

[good-beanswrites]

hi! may i request some mikoto + amane (platonic obvs) … anything? they are very dear to me 😭

Yes!!! Thank you so much for the request -- they really are such a good pair ;-; (The thing is, I had so many nice scenes in mind about how they parallel each other, but they wouldn't know or reveal that about each other so I kept restarting...) Anyway, here's something right after Mikoto's first trial/verdict!

Mikoto could pick up on someone’s bad mood from a mile away, though the skill was unnecessary when the other party very clearly and calmly informed him, “I’m in a bad mood.”

After refusing his offer, Amane turned back to a thick textbook she’d been taking notes on. Didn’t kids usually complain that school was already a prison? She must have wanted the full experience. He'd worked nonstop at his studies as well, but this was a new level. Amane often reminded him of his little sister, though she always took the extra step like this. His sister would have jumped at this opportunity to play a few rounds of their favorite card game.

“It’ll be fun!”

He flashed a smile, but it had no effect on her severe expression. “I know you’re just trying to comfort me about our verdicts. I refuse to be pitied.”

“Comfort and pity are two very different things. But anyway, it wasn’t either of those things.” He gave an easy shrug “To be honest, I’m just a little bored. It’s weird not having any work to do during the day.” 

Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time in his life he’d had so many hours to himself. A lot of the others were fun to play games with. A few of the sportier prisoners helped him stay active. He enjoyed smoking breaks with the other men. Still, he was left to his own devices for the majority of his time. It was maddening. He’d recently requested some more art supplies, having used up the last batch, but they had yet to come in. Now with the verdict announcement, he wasn’t sure they’d ever arrive.

“That is your own problem. I already have something to do.” Her eyes lingered on the cards for the briefest of moments before returning to the book. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for it.”

Regardless of her hostility, he took a seat beside her. He leaned his arms out on the table. “We don’t have to play the same game.” The last time they'd played as a big group, several prisoners pulling the tables together to fit everyone. Amane had kept very quiet, eyes darting around at the cards as she tried to keep up with the rules. Not many of the others noticed the frustration clear in her face. Mikoto wasn’t the type to let her win out of pity, though he had begun to mutter the rules and strategies to himself a bit more as the night went on… 

“Is there a game you liked to play at home?”

 “No. There was no time for games in the house.” 

“All work and no play… hah… I know what that’s like.” He slumped his cheek onto his arm, lazily shuffling the cards around. He felt bad for bothering the girl if she truly was upset. He thought it was the bad experience that made her reject him, he hadn’t realized there were also family issues attached. Usually he could read people well; maybe he was losing his touch. He seemed to be losing touch with a lot of things, these days.

He readied a game of solitaire. 

“Mikoto?” Amane kept her face turned away. “There was… one game.”

“Yeah?” Mikoto shuffled the cards back together. He slid them over to her. “You should teach me!” 

She didn’t touch them. “You probably already know it.”

“Nah, I only know a few games. I’m better with tarot cards, though those aren’t really the gaming type. Come on, what is it?”

She told him the name of the game, insisting it wouldn’t be worth playing. She kept her attention on the textbook, but her eyes weren’t reading any of it. 

“Ahh, I’ve heard of that one! We start with four cards, right?” He started dealing them out.

“No, five –” she pointed to the deck, urging him to add two more. 

“Right, right.” He laughed lightly. “And the goal is to get pairs, and put them in a pile, uhh, here.”

Amane shook her head. She shifted her body slightly towards him. “You must be thinking of a different game. There’s actually three piles for pairs. One here, one here, and when it’s your opponent’s turn…” 

Her eyes gleamed as she explained the rules. She pointed to various cards, telling him exact moves and point values. “And to win, you need to –” Her expression shifted. “You… you already knew all this.”

“Of course not!” He put on his most convincing smile. 

She deflated. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Tch, tell that to the warden.”

His shoulders sagged along with her. If Amane could see right through him, why was the rest of Milgram still coming up with stories about what he did and didn’t do? “Well, I might already know the rules, but it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You can still give me a hand. Plus, if you really are in such a bad mood, it’ll be good to take a break from your studies. You should always take a break when things get too overwhelming, yeah?”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Eh? What’s that face for?”

“Alright, let’s play. You can go first.”

“I mean it, what was that look? Aw, come on…”

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

ok i can’t for the life of me think of any reason willow would have to be romantically interested in hunter but hunters obviously has a thing for willow now so fuck it im onboard with that now but only if they go through like 8 layers of slow burn friends to lovers over the course of their entire teens and twenties where hunter comes to terms with his trauma and finds reasons to like willow outside of “youre the first person to give me a purely positive experience with friends before i escaped from a cult” and willow finds some common interests with hunter outside of “that sport you agreed to play specifically to kidnap me and my friends into your cult”