#( not sure yet )

[r0taryph0n3]

More poppy playtime doodles!!

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

escape

[cesiscribbles]

OK

WILD IDEA

Imagine a Good Omens Pirate AU

BUT IN A TREASURE PLANET UNIVERSE (if you are not familiar with that movie it's pretty much sailing ships IN SPAAACE)

I had an old TP video game in the early 2000s that I really loved and today I found out it's on Steam! So I got it for a few bucks and started to gather some references for this AU idea:

So it pretty much Pirate Crowley meets Royal Navy Aziraphale and I imagined that those could be their ships. Not sure about the story yet but I'd like to mix some plot points from the movie with the story missions of the game (that probably no one knows XDD)

If you are wondering the game is called Treasure Planet: Battle at Procyon (for those who are curious and wanna get the game, don't expect too much. It's a super old game and 75% of the game is just waiting while your ship travels from A to B. But as kid I absolutely LOVED that game to bits and even now it holds so much nostalgia 🙈)

[comfytickles]

MORE OC TICKLES!!!

Click for better quality!

RAUUUGH I WANNA EAT THEMMM GFFJYGVCRDFHGHB

[sleepyheadnat]

"...do you remember who you are?" Twilight asked tentatively.

The dragon was unfazed, all-seeing eyes staring right past him. "I am the Light Dragon. I have roamed the skies of this land for centuries."

"Sure, right, yeah." He gulped uncomfortably. "But do you remember who you were before?" No recognition flashed in the dragon's eyes. Twilight briefly turned to look at his brother, standing a few feet behind him. He took in a shaky breathe. "Do you remember him?"

For once, there seemed to be the shadow of something, some emotion swimming behind those multi-colored eyes. The dragon turned its stare to Wild who felt uncomfortably transparent and desperately hopeful under its gaze.

"This is the Hero of Hyrule, his spirit the guardian of the land for almost as long as I have roamed its skies. He visits me sometimes. Brushes my mane. Talks to me of things I do not understand and memories I cannot recall. He says that he loves me. He is kind."

[bomber-grl]

A colored sketch of Hiro I did! Been awhile since I last drew him

[vacillatingcreator]

Body Swap (part 1)

NEXT>>> Lil Sonic and Shadow body swap comic, as a treat! It's funny imagining them saying things in each others voices YHFSSF How did they get body swapped? No clue!! You decide! Probably had something to do with Eggman! (as usual LMAO) Shadow is internally going like "Don't make that face, it doesn't fit me." HSFJFSH Don't know how often this will update considering how busy I am, but we'll see! (Comic dubbers feel free to dub, just credit me as the artist yes!)

[krystalisedsoul]

Cafe Nero

Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Summary: Illumi, having finished his job for the day, ventured into town and encountered the cafe his grandfather recommended heavily to him.

Notes: just Illumi getting butterflies seeing the reader lol

Word Count: 1154

The city breathed in the damp, metallic air of an approaching storm, its streets slick with the faint sheen of rain that had not yet fallen. Streets wound like veins through the urban body, pulsing with the life of countless strangers who moved with the aimless purpose of ants beneath a magnifying glass. Lanterns flickered weakly against the encroaching dusk, their light swallowed by the shadows that pooled in the alleys and clung to the edges of buildings like stains. Illumi moved through the throng of bodies with the ease of a shadow slipping through cracks, his presence unnoticed, his existence unacknowledged. The crowd parted around him as if by some unspoken instinct, their laughter and chatter fading into a muffled hum that did not touch him. He was a void, a silence where sound should have been, and the world seemed to bend itself away from him, as though afraid to acknowledge what it could not understand.

Neon signs buzzed overhead, their garish colors bleeding into the twilight, while the scent of street food—sizzling meat, fried dough, and spices—mingled with the acrid tang of exhaust. It was a place of life, of noise, of chaos, and yet, in the midst of it all, there was a pocket of stillness.

Illumi stood at the center of the sidewalk, his presence an anomaly in the bustling crowd. He did not move, did not flinch, as people flowed around him like water around a stone. His black suit, impeccably tailored, seemed to absorb the light, its fabric undisturbed by the wind or the press of bodies. The collar of his shirt was stark against his pale skin, and the silver pin at his throat caught the flicker of a passing headlight, a brief, cold glint in the dimness. His gloves, black and fitted, rested at his sides, their surface smooth and unblemished, as though untouched by the grime of the city.

His face was a study in calm, its features sharp and symmetrical, as though carved from marble by a hand that valued precision above all else. His eyes, dark and depthless, scanned the crowd without interest, their gaze passing over the faces around him as though they were little more than shadows. His hair, long and ink-black, fell in straight, unbroken lines around his face, its stillness a stark contrast to the wind that tugged at the coats and scarves of those who passed him by.

The device in his hand buzzed softly, its screen illuminating with a message from his client. The words were brief, devoid of unnecessary sentiment: "Payment sent." Illumi’s expression did not change, but there was a subtle shift in the set of his jaw, a faint tightening that spoke of satisfaction. His lips, pale and finely shaped, did not curve into a smile, but there was something in the stillness of his face, a quiet intensity, that hinted at the cold pleasure he took in the completion of a task.

Around him, the crowd continued to move, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of sound. A child laughed, high and bright, as they darted past him, their small hand clutching a balloon that bobbed in the air. A vendor called out, their voice hoarse from hours of shouting, offering steaming buns to anyone who would listen. But Illumi noticed none of it. To him, the world was a blur of motion and noise, a thing to be observed but not engaged with. He was a fixed point in the chaos, a stillness in the storm.

For a moment, he remained there, his gaze fixed on the screen in his hand, the faint glow of the device reflecting in his eyes. Then, with a movement so fluid it seemed almost inhuman, he slipped the device into his pocket and stepped forward. The crowd parted around him, their movements instinctive, as though some primal part of them recognized the danger he represented. He did not look back, did not pause, but continued down the street, his footsteps silent against the pavement.

The neon lights flickered overhead, their colors washing over him in waves, but they did not touch him. He was a shadow, a void, a thing apart from the world around him. And as he disappeared into the crowd, the street seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as though it had been holding its breath the entire time he was there.

Illumi stopped, noticing a café standing at the corner of the square, its windows glowing with a warmth that felt almost obscene in the grayness of the evening. Steam curled against the glass, obscuring the figures inside, but Illumi’s gaze passed over them without interest. ‘Cafe Nero’, his grandfather had mentioned this place, the drinks and bakery becoming one of his favourites when visiting town. Seeing as he finished his work for the day and it wasn’t too late, he decided to make his way to the door.

His eyes, dark and unblinking, were drawn instead to the girl seated near the window. She was a burst of color in a monochrome world, her laughter spilling into the air with a carelessness that felt almost violent. She leaned forward, her hands animated as she spoke, and the people around her leaned in as if pulled by some invisible force. They orbited her like planets around a sun, their faces bright with the reflected glow of her presence.

Illumi did not move. He stood at the edge of the square, his stillness a stark contrast to the fluid motion of the crowd. His hands, gloved and precise, hung at his sides, but his fingers twitched faintly, as though plucking at an invisible thread. He did not know her name, nor did he care to. Names were trivial things, labels for objects that held no meaning. What he saw was not a person but a disruption, a ripple in the carefully ordered fabric of his world. She was wasteful, her energy spent on frivolities—laughter, conversation, connection—things that served no purpose, things that could not be quantified or controlled. And yet, she lingered in his mind like a splinter, small but impossible to ignore.

The wind shifted, carrying with it the faint scent of coffee and pastries, and for a moment, the sound of her laughter reached him. It was a bright, discordant note in the symphony of the city, and it cut through the silence of his thoughts like a blade. His jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of tension betraying the smooth mask of his expression. He turned away, his coat swirling around him like a shadow given form, and disappeared into the crowd.

But the thread remained, thin and unbreakable, tugging at the edges of his consciousness. As Illumi set on his journey back to his mountain, his expression did not change, but something in him shifted, like the slow, inevitable turn of a key in a lock.

[wasyago]

oh we ran out of the queued posts..... oh... over 1000 posts, gone. what do i do....

[fanby-fckry]

*Arackniss comes out as aroace*

Henroin: So I’ve got one son who likes men and one who likes nobody. Does anyone in this family like women?

Molly: *slowly raises her hand*

[deiiamorte]

Thinking thoughts about Rookanis+Spite and how awkward it'll be the first time Lucanis is a little rough in bed.

It's hot, they're both naked and sweaty and Rook is arching his back and his neck is deliciously exposed and inviting, and thus Lucanis does the only sensible thing and wraps his hand around it, and he squeezes.

It earns Lucanis one reaction he was looking for; Rook's eyes roll back, and a drawn-out moaned "yes" passes his lips. However, it then draws a second reaction, one Lucanis hadn't accounted for: Spite freaking out.

That's OUR Rook. Why are we doing this? Hand around necks is to kill targets—No. No! Rook is ours. Rook. Not. Target. Don't want him dead!

Lucanis doesn't get the chance to say a word before a sudden flash of purple overtakes him, leaving Rook with a very stressed-out demon between his legs.

[your-soup-overlord]

A tiny look into one of the fics called It's My Party (And I'll Cry If I Want To)!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why don’t you just tell them?” Jazz asks Danny once she sits down on his bed, pushing aside his blankets and patting beside her.

“Mom and Dad love you, metagene or not.” She continues.

“Seriously, Jazz, we’ve been over this.” Danny sighs, sitting next to his sister as she turns to face him better, “They hate ghosts, and have threatened to rip phantom apart molecule by molecule. If they’re willing to do that, then what makes you think they’ll stop once they find out their son is a ghost?”

Jazz frowns, “Danny, I know the accident was terrible and horrifying for you, but you’re not a ghost. You need to accept the fact that it simply activated your dormant metagene and gave you ghost adjacent powers.”

“How can I have a metagene when both mom and dad don’t have one! Jazz, I know you don’t want to believe it but-“

“No Danny,” Jazz exclaims as she cuts him off, “ You’re alive. You can’t be a ghost, because ghosts are unfeeling and-“

“Jazz, just stop!” Danny yells, slightly teary. He stands up off the bed, putting some place between him and Jazz as she also stands up with a deepening frown.

“I know you don’t want to believe it but I am a ghost, I died in that accident. I know you don’t want to believe it, but if I can somehow come to terms with it then why can’t you?”

Jazz just stares him down with her disappointed stare. After a few quiet seconds she then sighs, looking exasperated and somehow even more disappointed as she levels him with a harsh glare.

“Even Sam and Tuck agree, Danny. You’re going to far with this ghost thing! I don’t care what that yeti says, or any of those other creatures! You’re not dead. You have a heartbeat and most importantly, you care. You’re not evil, and all this death talk is beginning to freak Tucker out!  And you especially need to stop around Sam. They’ve begun talking to me about it, and about how you’re scaring them. And, well, we’ve all agree that you need to stop fighting those ghosts. Mom and Dad are perfectly capable of getting them, so from now on you’re benched. Those horrible things have been filling your head with lies, and it’s becoming a problem.”

Jazz declares before she walks out, keeping that awful disappointed glare on him.

Danny slams the door behind her, silently seething and holding back tears. They talk about his death so easily! Yet they don’t care to acknowledge it. Danny died, whether they want to accept it or not, and there was nothing they could do about it.

[akodsamaka]

I need a fic of loki showing up at a crime scene/battlefield wearing a crop top because "I was feeling feminine"

And the Avengers are like "wtf" and thor is just used to this, like "she/her then ?" And lokis like "nah, still male, tnx for asking" and then chaos ensues

Please, I'm desperate

[bee-sidebranch]

Trying to find a better way for me to use my traditional inking in my pieces, i can't be bothered to go through the hell that is scanning the images and running them through three different devices via cable.

I'm not happy with how the piece turned out but tbf i barely rendered it.

the characters with the * do not belong to me

*1 belongs to Ohmanit

*2 belongs to PrismSoup

*3 belongs to druidshollow

[mlmneuvifuri]

hbd kaeya