#But the critters are just my friends

[wyrm-bl00ded]

human experimentation is against the Geneva convention and im going to change that

[maiko-coy]

Smiling Critters but Catnap is some sort of cryptid shapeshifter that can has a 100% capability to do harm but the others doesn't know and are trying to teach him the ways of being a friend which is sorta working--

[spookberry]

Trolls AU anyone????

[dizzybizz]

the little chipper

[hazeljunee]

my babies ꨄ

[niceforearmsnicerstaff]

can you tell who my fav is yet

[honk4shelbi]

apologising

[happi-dreams]

bathtime!! :D

[pokimoko]

Hello!! i just discovered your blog and firstly i wanna say that your art is gorgeous! <33 and secondly, if youre still taking requests could i get a lesbian/non binary cheetah? /nf

Thank you! Cheetahs be upon ye!

[frogwen]

🌟🎄Hello my fellow sylvanian/calico/miniature/doll collectors, lovers, artists, crafters, bloggers, ET ALL✨🎁🥂

♥️I've been procrastinating working on my holiday display this year for a number of reasons- work anxiety, family anxiety, personal anxiety etc etc. But these are not life-or-death; I have a warm bed to sleep in... with a full belly. A bare minimum of safety.

🖤🇵🇸My dear friend Asmaa is in need of help; her fund is for her family of 8 members for their continued EXISTENCE AND SURVIVAL. They are cold and they are hungry. There hasn't been a warm bed, a seasonal feast laid out for them for a long, long time.

🤍here is @gazavetters 's spreadsheet , my friend @asmaayyad2 is number 43

💚this is her gofundme -->

[glitchedcosmos]

Been kinda obsessed with them lately

[dailyhtfboards]

Day 2

Today’s board is:

Oh shit Pops fuggin dead-

(From TV episode 1C And the Kitchen Sink)

[meshimellow]

in my perfect world there will be no baking and no fire alarms

[northstarscowboyhat]

Do you have a sona? Just asking because I usually imagine you as Lucky Clover haha

HAHA visualizing me as Lucky Clover is honestly hilarious! They pretty much are my brand at this point. I don't really draw myself that often, but I do have a silly design for the rare times I do!

They're very silly and stupid but. This is the cowboy hat that draws nothing but UTY content.

[spaghetticat3899]

Grinning Companion scribbles

Assorted Aggie/magma doodles of me and my friends’ critters (plus Allan and Charlie). I have a crittersona whom I have yet to name. Some sort of goblin shark, bird, rat thing. Yes that is a Charlie plush doused in milk. One day…

You can somewhat see the evolution of the critter-sona here, they’d originally had a small brow ridge and Allan-ish eyes. I gave them dot eyes because only Charlie had them to my memory. They’d also were meant to just be a background character, never interacting with the canon fellows, minus the crossing of paths on occasion… but then I had fun imagining them being coworkers, so. I don’t know if it’s an AU or not, just roll with it. Important details: teeth and long ass fingers

Mr Boss and Pim are surprisingly pains in the ass to draw, if you were wondering. Somehow I get the Boss more correct than Mr pink circle somehow.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

OC Kiss Week: Day 2

First

Ngl this one both had me struggling and also had me in brainrot. I knew what I wanted to do from the moment I started planning for the prompts, but writing other people's OCs makes me nervous.

Feat. @dumbass-transboy 's OC Zero (he/him) and my OC, Adrien "Booker" Graves (he/him) from the ttrpg Lancer! We've been brainrotting about an arranged marriage AU forever, and this felt very appropriate for those idiots.

(special appearances from my OC Dupont - basically Booker's best friend - and Khione, Moss's OC!)

CW: Verbal abuse, panic attacks, brief gore visualization.

If you enjoyed this fic, please give it a like or reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to continue.

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“Oh, stop worrying,” Lillian snapped. She fixed Booker’s tie for the fifteenth time, her acrylics like talons against his chest.

He held back a sharp retort, struggling to be polite. “It's my wedding day, Ma. I'm just a little nervous.”

She clicked her tongue. “It's Mother, Adrien. I thought those speech lessons beat that country bumpkin out of you.”

You used to be a country bumpkin too, he didn't say. Instead, he simply nodded his head.

“Yes, Mother.”

A sharp pin stabbed his chest as Lillian affixed a boutonniere to his jacket lapel.

He tried not to flinch.

“Now,” she said huffily. “This match was already hard enough to get done. Don't muck it up. You're to be a good husband. The best husband, even. You should be like-” she stopped herself short, her hands stilling.

Adrien put his over hers. Squeezing gently.

“Of course, Mother. As you say.” The ghost of his father lingered in the room, practically draping itself over his mother like a mourning veil.

Even now, at her worst, she was thinking of the man who'd widowed her.

Lillian swallowed hard and pulled away, fixing her hair. “Never mind that nonsense. Get ready. You're representing the Graves.”

He watched her turn away with a silent sigh. Disappointment was an old friend to him now, and he'd learned to welcome its presence.

“Yes, Mother.”

She walked out, and he followed her.

By Ra, the man was beautiful. To be honest, Booker had never noticed it before. Zero’s words had always come before his face, obscuring it like a mask.

Now, it was the beauty itself that he wore like a weapon.

At least Booker would have something nice to look at, he supposed.

They'd been practically avoiding each other the whole time. Khione and Dupont were the saviours of the event, flitting to and fro, keeping anyone who might annoy either grooms far away.

Aside from one instance of getting deadnamed, it had been startlingly smooth.

And then, the main event.

The music started up, a beautifully light melody that drew the guests towards their seats.

Across the room, Booker could see his mother make direct eye contact with him, mouthing words.

Don't muck it up.

He swallowed down nerves and made his way to the altar.

Zero and Khione were a vision to behold. Booker didn't know who had decided that Zero would be the one to walk down the aisle towards him, but he instantly knew they'd made the correct choice. The guests couldn't keep their eyes off the pair as they sailed forward, perfectly in sync.

It made Booker feel…off. He realized for the first time in many years he was having a sudden bout of gender dysphoria, feeling greasy and out of place here.

He tried to breathe. His eyes slid to the front row, where a picture of his father and sister sat on an empty chair.

It only made the feeling worse. He was five seconds from a panic attack, and there was no way he could stop it.

Someone pinched his side sharply.

Dupont stood next to him, withdrawing his hand quickly. “Breathe. You're not alone. I'm here.”

Booker breathed. His chest still felt tight, and he wished he had his emergency inhaler, long considered “immature” by his mother.

Ironic, really, that she'd risk his ability to breathe for appearances.

Zero stepped up beside him, and Booker offered his hand.

“You look beautiful,” Booker forced out. Thankfully, it sounded less shaky than he felt.

With an artful smile, Zero gave him a sidelong glance. “Of course I do. It's about time you noticed.” He placed his fingers in Booker’s palm, stepping up to the altar.

Right.

Booker had temporarily forgotten that aspect of Zero’s personality. He was like a poisonous flower, beautiful to look at but god forbid someone touched him.

It didn't help Booker's nerves at all.

The officiant in front of them was one Booker had known his whole life. The man was the one who married his parents, half the town, and now him.

He could barely keep track of the words.

His mother's words rang over and over again in his head, like a nail being hammered into a coffin. Where his hand held Zero's, it was cold and clammy.

He felt like fainting.

“Do you, Adrien Thaddeus Malcom Graves, take Zero to be your husband, to walk by his side in sickness and in health?”

The words jolted him back. He smiled politely and nodded. “I do.”

The officiant turned to Zero. “And do you, Zero, take Adrien to be your husband, to walk by his side in sickness and in health?”

Booker watched the most radiant man in the universe smile and lie through his teeth.

“I do.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Booker could see his mother sitting by the pictures, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

For a split second, he imagined it. Whirling and lunging like a feral beast, sinking his teeth into her throat and ripping it out, snapping open her ribcage to try and find his mother somewhere inside.

Not this decorative facade, this empty shell that breathed and walked and talked like her.

He forced it down, like he always did.

Like he had since the accident that killed his father and sister.

They were all each other had left.

He wondered if she remembered that.

The rings were exchanged, Booker’s last stand to his mother. He'd picked them out himself, complimentary and meaningful. Whether Zero cared or not, they would both look the part, at least.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss.” The officiant proclaimed.

Booker turned to Zero, their hands intertwined.

He'd kissed so many people. Shared his heart and body with them all.

At that moment, he made himself a promise.

This will be the last. Til death do us part.

He leaned in at the same time Zero did, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss.

The guests cheered and clapped, their applause like the clanging of a cell door swinging shut.

As he pulled away, Zero smirked at him. “Well, would you look at that. We're married.”

Booker nodded, feeling ice spread in his chest, freezing him over.

“Yes, we are.”

Hand in hand, they walked down the aisle together.