#(cracks knuckles) lets do this

[suffarustuffaru]

HEY HEY HEY!!! its finally time to unveil 1 of my zine pieces for @tpfbotd zine!!!! this one u might remember if uve been following me for a while as ive shared two wips of it but im so excited to finally show it!! its been an honor getting to be part of the zine so pls check it out !!! <3 🥰

[blluespirit]

i think zuko's dry, sarcastic sense of humour is not used enough in fics. ppl always write him as being totally inept at humour (which like. he kind of is... ) but ALSO he's like damn ur gf died and became the moon? rip. yeah sure sokka let's leave appa in the reputable sky bison day care at the notorious prison im sure this will end well. yes aang katara and i will be sure to take a 101 spirituality class while hunting down the killer of katara's mum

[hayaku14]

jp kaishin socmed aus are so funny cos stans call kaito "kai-kun" or "kurokai" or "bakuro" but with shinichi they call him "kudoshin" or "shin-sama" LMAOOO

[truths33k3r4]

Mkay.

Y'all ever have those moments as an artist when... THERE'S WAY TOO MANY DIFFERENT THINGS YOU WANT TO MAKE FANART FOR???!?!! LIKE SHEESH PEOPLE STOP BEING SO AMAZING THAT I WANT TO HONOR YOUR WORK~ Oye to the vey..

Anyways, @phoebepheebsphibs, @allyheart707, @rufwooff, @sarathrwizard and @indieyuugure... SOME DAY... hopefully soon... THERE WILL BE ART COMIN YOUR WAY. ;)

... Be ready.

~ Melissa

[kazimakuwabara]

HEY YOU. YEAH YOU. You tired of seeing a customer yell at a cashier for no GODDAMN good reason? Fucking call that customer an idiot. Use your, "I am a customer, and the customer is always right privilege," to yell at another asshole customer. Fucking call their shit out. IT FEELS FUCKING GREAT. FEEL ALIVE AGAIN. DEFEND RETAIL WORKERS. DO IT.

[sengoku-nadeko]

[bakingcakeroll]

Me want hug you

iiwan t ttt t, H ubbbbb g yi t . oo p hysi cl,,lll toug. h i rrd comflrth

( I want to hug you too. ) ( physical touch. i need comfort )

[joyfuladorable]

< Prev Doodles | First Set of Doodles

Surprise, @redstringraven!! Guess who watched a playthrough of Horizon Forbidden West AND the DLC Burning Shores and Then proceeded to reread Pretend that I Never Left and draw Four More DOODLE PAGES!!!! To all the 2k3 Mikey fans out there, this is the fic for you!

[hershelwidget]

sorry i just went on an deep dive. it would cost like. 5 or so billion dollar for the octonauts to function. either inkling has pockets as deep as the ocean or there’s some highly illegal behind the scenes nonsense goin on here

[katyswrites]

1989 TV has me thinking about Steve…. *opens Google Docs*

[chocolaminity]

hello Tumblr may I offer you a healthy dose of art dump from December-February

obligatory sorry for putting Z-O-M-B-I-E-S and Guilty Gear and Ina11 and Sanrio in the same post !!!

also obligatory do not follow me for Guilty Gear content I barely know anything of it other than what my brother has told me + what I've seen and I just wanted to draw May because I think she is silly ^^

last two drawings r references from this post and also this vvv

[letthestorieslive]

There's A Bad Moon On The Rise

Rating : T Chapters : 1/1 Word Count : 2,601 Relationship : Scott McCall & Peter Hale Relevant Tags : Angst, Trauma, Episode: s01e07 Night School, Canonical Character Death, Spoiler: It's the Janitor, Mention of a dead body, Scott McCall-Centric, Scott Being Once Again Stripped of his Own Will and Body,

Scott takes a deep breath through his mouth and holds it in for a few seconds, trying to sooth his fraying nerves and slow down the pounding of his heart. He needs to be able to hear everything, anything. He needs to know if the alpha is close by and he can’t do that if all he hears is the crazed beat of his heart echoing in his ears. Only once he’s feeling somewhat calmer does he shift to breathing through his nose in quick motions. To his dismay, he catches on the smell of blood almost immediately.

Read on ao3

For Scottuary 2024

[empressofmankind]

Tomorrow we're starting Croctober

[reflections-of-mobius]

Because I can,...thoughts on who would dress as what for Halloween.

Vampire, whether pastel or not, who even knows. Probably similar to this outfit, save she'd also get contacts, some fake blood splatters near her mouth, and just have fun hissing at people. For those who can't see the outfit- think 'victorian vampire' with a dash of detective.

Semi-sexy pirate costume, probably a mix of a man's and a woman's outfit, since they'd want the feminine proportions but the masculine attire itself. Probably had to commission it, thank stars for making funds as a construction worker and protector of the city.

Fire captain. Mate doesn't really trust that any outfit they wore would look 'nice'. Would let the cats they look after at the cafe tear holes in it throughout their shift, no doubt. Mate doesn't mind or care.

Middle right. She'd claim it was a 'healer', no doubt. Honestly, Fin just strikes me as the type to wear witch-hunter outfits despite being a self-proclaimed witch.

Enderman from Minecraft. Absolutely just uses the whole 'stare at and they go wild' to disappear the moment he's spotted. Claims it's just 'really good visual affects'.

Hilariously, wine god costume. Even though the mate definitely has a low alcohol tolerance. However, it would semi-match with Bless, so they'd be happy.

Forced to wear a costume by some of his 'coworkers' (fellow agents). They somehow managed to convince him to wear a sexy cop costume, though Rust doesn't really get the intent behind it.. Xey're mostly in this to get its fellow agents to shut it.

A couples' costume with Tempest. He'd be the frozen king to Tempest's burning queen.

Sexy valhalla prince. Of course, he'd save that for later in the night....at the start, the top is replaced with a chain-link chestplate, though he does keep the cape (and gains a sword + scabbard- no not that sword, mind outta the gutter).

Wants to wear a costume, but he's afraid of being spotted by anyone. Wouldn't dare to wear one at the temple or anywhere near it while in disguise, either.

A couples' costume with Azure. She'd be the blazing queen to Azure's freezing king.

Good luck, she can change her form at will, so if she wants any costume change throughout the night, she'll get it instantly. Defaults, however, to a lizard witch.

[kareofbears]

hand of god, deliver me

Wednesday hated summers. Will continue to hate summers.

Her phone vibrates. I’m outside! :D

But it’s possible she started hating summers a little less.

--

Or, Wednesday and Enid spend the last day of summer together.

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Wednesday hated summers.

Winters are her preferred season. She prefers long, flowy fabric that covers as much of her as possible. She prefers the cold, likes the way air tastes when she steps outside, the way it clings to her like shedding skin, flimsy but present. She loves the dark—loves the way the sun has already set by the time she leaves her classes, loves the shadows the trees cast from the flickering street lights above her. Love the way it makes the hair on the back of her neck rise when she realizes she can’t see more than a block in front of her. Loves the effect it has on people, makes them nervous, makes them crazed.

Summer has none of these.

Even from inside her home, the sun had managed to squeeze its way through the black-out curtains and light up the living room in a way that makes her eye twitch. She sits on her family’s piano bench, idly touching the monochrome keys. Her black skirt is comforting, though it makes the back of her legs sticky with sweat. Air conditioning is a push of a button, but there’s something sickening about the faux-chill. The way it snakes around the room, flowing into her lungs, suffocating her. Even sweat and body odor is preferable to that.

A bird sings from outside the window—a robin with a sonorant throat. Wednesday digs her nails into the keys, the sound clashing together unpleasantly.

Wednesday hated summers. Will continue to hate summers.

Her phone vibrates. I’m outside! :D

But it’s possible she started hating summers a little less.

She stands, swipes her phone off the table before sliding it into her pocket, and heads out the door silently. No need to call out a goodbye. Her parents always know when she’s left the house.

Down her driveway, standing in direct sunlight, stands Enid, sporting a smile so wide that Wedneday believes that she’s physically incapable of replicating it. Only in the span of a few months, Enid had grown an inch taller, increasing their height gap even further.

The first thing that she says is, “Your hair.”

“Huh? Oh,” Enid touches her hair, almost shy. Instead of the pink and blue, it’s now red and green. “I figured it’s time for a change. Do you like it?”

Wednesday tilts her head to the side. “It’s festive,” she says eventually.

“It’s August,” Enid reminds. “It’s not supposed to be festive.”

“Then what is it supposed to be?”

“A change?” she shifts on her feet. “Something different, I guess.” Glancing at Wedneday, her eyes warm. “I considered black, believe it or not.”

Wedneday’s mouth twitches. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t go through with it, now did I?” Their eyes are still connected, and her heart thumps as though she were terrified. As though there was something dangerous nearby that can chew her up, spit her out, with only her bones remaining left to remember her by.

She blinks. It’s only Enid. Enid in her bright sundress, with pink shades perched on top of her head like a nesting bird, who’s taller now but doesn’t make Wednesday feel smaller.

“Let’s go before we miss the bus.”

—

It has been a very long time since Wednesday had used public transportation.

It’s surprisingly pleasant, despite the air conditioning. Other than the two of them, only the bus driver and an elderly woman were onboard, allowing the two of them to sit in the back without any interruption. Thankfully, Enid lets her have the window seat.

Enid chats, and chats, and chats. She doesn’t talk of monsters, or Outcasts, or killings, or mysteries. Instead, she talks about normal things. Teenager things. About what she did in the past two months, about a book she’s reading, about a shirt she knitted halfway through before giving up because she suddenly got sick of the colors. How she went to a farmer’s market a few ago and complained about how the mangos were underripe but the avocados are overripe. Embroidery is her new passion, she says.

Wednesday stares outside the whole time, at the blue sky and the flower fields that pass by, silent. She’s enjoying the one-sided conversation, strangely enamoured by her fluctuating voice and gesticulating hands. It feels like everything that happened the last school year was a hallucination, a dream turning fuzzy the moment you wake up only to be forgotten completely in minutes.

This, however, is the realest she’s felt in a long time.

“What’s this?” Enid asks suddenly, and she feels a gentle finger on her wrist, stroking the new silver chain there. “Are you liking jewelry nowadays?”

“A necessity. It’s embedded with Onyx stones.” She tilts her wrist, this way and that, vaguely enjoying the glimmer. “It’s expensive in case I need to sell it for emergencies. Or bribery.”

“It’s pretty.” Enid’s hand traces the stones one more time before pulling away. “It suits you.”

For a second, Wednesday considers letting her wear it, even if it was just for a moment. An heirloom to the Addams, one that dates back centuries and carries history that even she herself isn’t sure about. It was supposed to be an honor to wear this, unthinkable for outsiders to even touch.

Then her eyes flicker to Enid. Her high cheekbones and pale hair, the purse of her lips—a childish habit she has when she’s thinking deeply. The way she caresses Wednesday’s wrist like it would wither under her fingers, her nails painted a bright lilac. It’s as if she’s the color that shines through stained glass windows in a cathedral, unrelenting and vivid and filled to the brim with stories to tell.

Wednesday pulls her hand away. “Are we almost there?”

Enid jolts, hands scrambling to find purchase on the call button. “Oh my god, I almost forgot.”

Soon, the both of them tumble out of the bus, Enid still rambling about how she funny it would have been if they had to backtrack in the hot summer, although Wednesday isn’t quite sure what would be so funny about that.

As they make their way to the small town, she glances at Enid’s wrist, unburdened by Onyx stones, and nods to herself. The idea of shackling Enid to the Addams is sickening enough to make her nauseous, no matter how temporary, fill her stomach with lead and sink her to the bottom of a lake.

Her family can try and take anything of Wednesday’s, but not this. Never this.

—

The village resides at the mouth of a nearby river, buildings old but sturdy in a classic European way. It’s small and quaint, a fishing village that had overtime been reinvented as somewhat of a tourist hub, with small stores and market stalls scattered across the premises that creates an atmosphere similar to a renaissance fair. A combination of students, locals, and out-of-towners roam around, the last few days of summer encouraging everyone to soak in the sun and make up for doing nothing the past few months.

Wednesday feels her brows furrow, but instantly smooths over her expression. Still, Enid peers closely at her. “It’s the crowds, isn’t it?”

This time, she doesn’t bother hiding her grimace. “Don’t watch me so closely.” Her heart rate is spiking again. Instinctively, she scans for a danger that isn’t there. “It’s a fruitless effort to try and read me.”

Enid’s expression turns cocky. “I think I just did, actually, but we don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to.” She links her arms with Wednesday’s and takes them down a back alley. The whole path is shrouded in tall pine trees, creating a walkway of shade and cool air. “I had a feeling it would be like this, so…” she shrugs. “Let’s walk the road less traveled.”

They spend the day like that, entering shops, peering at clothes (Enid), enamored by the spiders that crawl through the flower beds (Wedneday), browsing through books (Enid and Wednesday). The whole time, their arms stay linked. Whenever she tries to pull away, Enid would tighten her grip, whining. It would be too easy to yank her arm out of the way, but she’s slightly, abnormally, inexplicably charmed.

Her heart beats quicker, the fear getting stronger, but she doesn’t mind it.

She doesn’t mind any of it.

—

The last shop in their strip is a thrift store.

Wednesday sits on a bench just outside the dressing room, legs crossed as she waits for Enid to finish changing. So far, she’s gone through military uniforms, Victorian era gowns, and cheerleader.

“This better be the last one, or I’m leaving you here,” Wednesday murmurs.

“Ha!” she hears a snort. “As if you know how to bus home.”

Frowning. “I do know how to bus home.”

A blonde tuff of hair peeks out from behind the curtain as Enid grins at her. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone, rich girl.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes before standing up to stretch, letting her gaze wander around the store. Shelves of useless junk next to racks of ugly clothes. No wonder Enid loves this place.

She lets her feel take her to the glass cabinet, the lighting dim but just bright enough to let her peer inside. As she expected, most of it is worthless. Colored plastic, sterling silver, scratched up gems on rusted bases. She’s about to turn back when something glints at her.

Eyes widening, she leans down, sucking in a breath. There is no hesitation in her voice when she says, “Excuse me, how much?”

—

The bus ride home is quiet.

There are a few more people riding with them, but it seems they’re all just as tired as they are. With the sun setting, everything is bathed in a warm orange light. The temperature had gone down to something bearable, so the bus had opeted to let the windows roll down instead of relying on the air conditioning. She closes her eyes, enjoying how the wind rustles her hair gently.

A weight slides onto her shoulder. Wednesday turns carefully. Enid had fallen asleep on her, chest rising and falling in even breaths, gently jostling along with the bus.

Eventually, carefully, so, so carefully, she reaches into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out a pale, pearl bracelet that she puts on Enid’s wrist.

She watches her for a long time. Watches how the sunset makes the pearls shine in an entrancing way, how the color is so unmistakably Enid.

In a moment of bravery, or more accurately, stupidity, Wednesday intertwines her fingers with Enid’s. In this angle, it’s impossible not to notice how the Onyx bracelet from earlier is gone—replaced, instead, with a black pearl bracelet of her own.

Wednesday Addams is not stupid.

She isn’t quite so stupid as to believe her own thoughts. She isn’t quite so stupid as to believe that this is something as juvenile as a friendship bracelet. She isn’t quite so stupid as to believe that what she’s feeling all this time was fear.

Was it fear that causes her heart to race? Her mouth to twist into a smile? Her chest to feel like it’s going to explode? To change her mind about something she hated because the girl sleeping on her shoulder expressed a liking to it?

Wednesday Addams is not stupid, but she is a coward.

Maybe it really is fear. She’s scared enough to wait until Enid was asleep. Scared enough to use the words she’s never afraid of using. She’s scared to want. Above all, she’s scared of the scale of her want. But what she’s truly afraid of is something that doesn’t dare even name. She isn’t ready.

Absently, she squeezes her hand around Enid’s, praying she doesn’t stir. The hand tightens in return, and the head on her shoulder only seems to relax further, the bracelet’s strapped around their wrists clinking together.

She isn’t ready.

Wednesday lets her gaze slide back to the window, and appreciates the warm air of summertime.

But maybe someday she will be.

—

Enid lies in bed, staring at the pearls on her wrist, other hand gripping her phone, Wednesday’s contact open, unsent messages by the dozens clogging up her screen.

i love it. why didn’t you wake me up?

i love the color, but why didn't you get me black? i told you I'm starting to like it more as time goes on

i love seeing you, i had so much fun

summer can’t end soon enough. roomies for life!!

how do you feel about summer?

i love you

I love you

I love you.

She tosses her phone aside, shoving her face in her pillow.

Maybe someday.

[snagyeon]

i have to sort through 10,000+ photos for this album help. a good third of these photos have someone's finger blocking the camera. but anywayyyyyy look at these photos i took of mini-me in san fran last year ^-^