#DRAW MY DEAD WIFE

[anrisimps]

The dead are always watching (Wip) Redraw of this

[duckchaw]

Obligatory butcher joke for Jenny

[vampiresinthedaylight]

some bits from the books I really like... I think they move each other <3

[auss2egr2t]

sixty three eighty one || soixante-trois quatre-vingt un

[cyberniix]

janus sanders save me janus sanders

[thou-babbling-brook]

Did a redesign of Connor’s mystery wife! She’s gotta be my oldest OC, I literally designed her like a week after I got into AC back in February 2019. I know @ramshackledtrickster has posted her a bunch, but I wanted to share her on here too :3

Her name is Tekonwenaharake! That’s more of a placeholder name, really, since there’s a living Mohawk person with the name, but I don’t wanna just refer to her as “T” or “Connor’s wife,” so I’ll be tagging her like this if I post her more!

These drawings came about because I was playing around with drawing her more historically accurate. Eventually, I found a happy medium between her original design and historical records from the time (paintings, clothes, etc.). I really loved how this turned out and I hope you guys do too!

Also fun fact: I always try to make her look like an older version of Io:nhiòte since I imagine she looks a lot like her mom. I imagine even the earrings were gifts to Io:nhiòte that she then wears in the AC Reflections comic!

[grumpyghostdoodles]

Poor Peepaw Starlo. They grow up so quickly.

[toxxtt]

the lady's favorite treats 🍰

[midnightdemonhunter]

Did you know that no two missteps are the same?

[heyhollow]

I would just like to point out that you turned a Doberman into a golden retriever and I think that's hilarious. (Referring to how you usually depict Michael to the ballpit version in that comic.)

This is literally all I could think about while Drawing Ballpit Micheal Lmfaoo

I know there's like a canonical reason he's like that in the au

But I only ever draw teen Michael as an ABSOLUTE DELINQUENT

It was honestly hard drawing him being nice lol😭

[d0gwithabr0kenleg]

someone take this pen away from me rn

[doodles-in-sand]

"No, wait-

Please don't go-

----, please, you can't die-"

"don't leave me"

(this piece has a partner fic :) since tumblr HATES links though the fic is under the cut, and link to the ao3 ver will be in reblogs <3)

Kirisaki Shidou opens his eyes to a field of flowers.

It is calm, peaceful. In his hands is a bouquet of flowers, unlike any in the field. A rose, beautiful and bright red. A hyacinth, bluer than the sky above. Baby’s breath, small and innocent. And a bird of paradise, her favourite. 

A gust of wind, brushing past his head, like a familiar touch caressing his hair. He turns, and standing there, alive and well, is his family. His wife, his sons, exactly as he remembered them. Alive, healthy.

He watches as his sons run in the field like the children they are, and he feels not longing, but joy. He hears them laugh and yell joyfully. It feels familiar, domestic. 

They run past him, energetic as ever, in a childish game of tag. In their hands are flowers from the bouquet he holds. Baby’s breath and hyacinth, flowers that remind him of them, of their innocence, of their smiling faces.

And he looks at his wife, her hair billowing in the breeze. He can hear her laugh as she watches their sons run and play.

She turns to look at him, smiling, and in her hands is a rose like the one he holds. 

And for a moment, he, too, is alive once more. For a moment, he is the man who has lost nothing, who can smile genuinely. 

For a moment, he is not a murderer.

But then he takes a step towards them, and the moment fades. He blinks, and his sons are nowhere to be seen. In their place, where he last saw their smiling faces, last heard their youthful laughs, are patches of flowers, wilting and grey. 

The flowers that were in their hands lay wilted on the ground.

…their flowers in his hands wilt as well, crumbling in his hands.

The feeling that rises in his chest is disturbingly familiar.

He looks up at his wife, her figure now standing alone in the vast field of flowers. She is turned away from him, and she is still. So still he could almost mistake her for a statue, if not for her hair still flowing with the gentle breeze.

And for a moment, he is the man with everything at stake. For a moment, he is the desperate doctor who would do anything to save what's left of his family.

For a moment, he is a selfish gardener, willing to sacrifice it all for the sake of one.

He takes another step towards her.

Her figure blurs at the edges.

…wait, no, dont…

He takes another step. Flowers die at his feet. He does not notice.

She does not move.

Don't leave, please-

He takes another step, and then another, reaching out his hand. Flowers die with each step. He does not Care. He does not care about the flowers. He cares about his family

With each step, the rose in his hand withers. He quickens his pace, reaching his hand out in desperation.

Please, you have to live, you can’t die! 

At some point, she turns, when he is just close enough that his hand brushes against her hair, and she smiles.

Please don't leave me alone-

…And then she’s gone. Her figure dissolves into the breeze as strings of light blue, drifting away along with the petals of her rose.

He looks down at the bouquet in his hands.

Only one flower remains.

And like it, he, too, is alone.

He looks down at the trail of wilting flowers at his feet, and at the wilted remains of his family, and finally, he understands the weight of his actions. Finally, finally, he understands his hypocrisy.

And in that moment, he is a man who has lost everything. In that moment, he is the man who took and took and gained nothing. 

In that moment, he knows that he is a selfish, disgusting murderer.

…

Kirisaki Shidou opens his eyes to the ceiling of a prison.

It is a once-unfamiliar sight that he is beginning to become uncomfortably familiar with.

Sitting up from his bed, he presses his palms into his eyes, choking back a sob, trying and trying to rid his mind of his dream. Trying to rid it of the memories of his murder, and of its memories of what he's lost.

…In the end, he only really succeeds in making his gloves wet.

He stands up, ensuring that his eyes are dry before changing out his gloves for a new pair. He takes a deep breath, before setting himself to work. There's no time for grieving, here. There are people who need medical attention. The prisoners’ injuries were of more importance.

…besides, he doesn’t deserve to grieve. To grieve is to make peace, to come to terms. That would be too good for a murderer like him

[rebornghost]

they can have a photography class together as a treat

[anna-scribbles]

thirteen update 🍂 🎹 🏠 👻

chapter 2: November

chapter summary:

She was in a good mood. If she was ever going to take it well, it would be now.

“Maman, what if I went to school this year?”

excerpt:

“Heh.” Adrien flicked a finger beneath his chin and strutted the length of his bathroom floor, glancing at himself in the mirror. He twirled a rose—a red one, one he’d grabbed from the vase downstairs—between his fingers and then presented it to the mirror with a flourish.

“Haruhi!” he declared, “the spring of my heart surges upon the sight of your fresh smile, my love. My heart beats at the command of your drum! Your face is the fierce longing of my soul, and I present to you now this token of my lavish, undying—”

A sharp knock clicked against the bedroom door and Adrien froze, his hand still passionately hovering over his heart.

“Adrien?” Nathalie’s voice called, and Adrien—true to character, if he did say so himself—startled so hard that he slipped and fell onto his butt on the tile.

“Yeah?” he called, hastily pulling himself up and trying to find a place to set down the rose.

Nathalie peeked her head through the bathroom door and took him in, his rumpled hair and the too-small blue blazer he’d saved in the back of his closet for occasions such as…this.

“You have a guest,” she said flatly, and Adrien could not for the life of him figure out whether she was making fun of him.

She left before he could decide, and then it was only a matter of seconds before his bathroom door was thrown all the way open and a blonde ponytail bobbed into view.

“Adrikins!” Chloé crashed into him, wrapping him up in a hug that nearly knocked him over again. “It’s been way too long. You’ve been neglecting me. Aw, did you get me a rose?” She plucked it from his hands and then scrunched up her nose. “Ew, is this real?”

“As real as the current that springs from the well of my heart,” Adrien invented, and Chloé frowned at him like he’d just spoken Greek. “Nevermind.”

She looked him up and down and scrunched her nose up even more. “What did you do to your hair?”

Adrien frowned at his reflection in the mirror and pushed his hair further over to the side.

“I was trying to make it look cool.” He’d been trying to make it look like Tamaki from Ouran High School Host Club.

“It looks like you just rolled out of bed.”

read on ao3

[acido0oo]

Butch Morgan

more below break

[raddest-laddest]

and the most she can do is throw shadows at you but she’s always a woman to meee