#I already have so many wips lol

[dootznbootz]

Hear me out : The Odyssey but with Water Wife Penelope and Telemachus as half naiads growing mermaid tails on command a la H2O Just Add Water 🧜‍♀️🧜‍♂️

Ngl, I've thought about this for Mermay as it's fun! :D

I know I love the idea of Penelope being a piranha for some reason xD (smol, big bite, sometimes a pretty blue-green with orange, freshwater, etc.)

I've always imagined Odysseus as some sort of sea serpent-esque guy if he were to be a merman so idk what that would make Telemachus be BUT he'd probably be a mix???

Hm, idk, lots to think about! :D

[storytellering]

Torn apart. Inspired by Romeo and Juliet by Sergio Cupido

[quinn-of-aebradore]

WIP Wednesday - looking for the meaning of life

Hello friends! It's been a while since I've done one of these and I thought considering how long my current WIP is taking and how fond I am of it, it would only be right to give you all a little snippet! Enjoy 💜

She hasn’t seen Essek in… well, centuries. It pains her to admit that even to herself, that she let their connection wither and fade for so long. It pains her even more to acknowledge that it was already withered and faded by the point that she saw him last, before he vanished from the Dynasty and became a fugitive. She has been, as she always has been towards him, neglectful. Absent. She knows that if she’d reached out soon after his disappearance, anytime in that first century, even after he was lauded amongst the heroes of the Red Solstice, it’d have put him at great risk. But she also knows that that wasn’t her reasoning back then, or at least not the key factor in it, and even if it was, that it doesn’t excuse the next two centuries of silence. Most likely, he resents her still. It’s only in this life that she’s managed to shed that habit herself—loathing potent enough to sink into the bone—and it’s one she watched him inherit. She cannot fault him for it, if that is how he feels. Worse, though, he could simply not care anymore. If she taught him anything, it was apathy.

Light, that would break her heart, shatter it irreparably, but she cannot deny the likelihood of it, nor the fairness of it. All his life, she’s behaved as though she hasn’t cared for him. Only now, in this life, has she found the will to try and show him otherwise. It’s that same will that stirs her from her spiraling thoughts at last and pushes her forward, towards the front door of her son’s home. She crosses from the stone street to a gravel walkway lined with brightly blossoming flowers. There’s too many to count, to name, to decipher, but it’s beautiful and the air feels so alive. It makes her very soul sing as she comes up to the door, the glass of its windows stained and depicting a starry sky grown over with vines of white flowers. For a long moment, she feels as though she cannot breathe. And then, she knocks; three steady, resolute raps against the wood. A minute passes, in which she patiently waits, before the door swings open. The man standing across the threshold is not her son.

[jojissalsa]

thinking abt making a fanfic of older brother leon (probs re2r) being tormented by a younger sister reader....like just messing with him so hard CAUSE IK I WOULD. i wanna torment that little freak <3

[carlos-tk]

sometimes i can’t believe i was posting wips every single wednesday and sunday for literal months like who even was that person

[bf-rally]

okay so im back in navbar hell (when i thought i escaped...!!!) but ive managed to get this set up today :D

[bunitivity]

i've got some zolusanuso headcanons for you!

sometimes, for seemingly no particular reason, Luffy tends to latch onto whoever's closest and just spend the day with them like that; Zoro's the most indifferent to it and Usopp doesn't mind it too much, though he feels the added weight more than Zoro does. Sanji allows it, but has to stay extra vigilant to avoid Luffy from stealing food while he's cooking. Sometimes he tries to hand him off to Zoro or Usopp before cooking, but Luffy would whine and give him his best puppy dog eyes and Sanji is very weak, so Luffy always ends up staying.

nap piles on Zoro that leave all of them- especially Zoro himself- well rested and content after. They don't happen often, since Sanji isn't really one for naps and how he complains sometimes that Zoro's too hard to sleep on, but when the day feels long or he's having a bad day, he'll curl up right in the centre of Zoro's chest. Luffy and Usopp, either already in Zoro's arms or about to be, will move around to let him in and then cuddle up to him. Zoro doesn't say it, but he loves napping best when they're all sleeping together like this. He doesn't say it, but his boyfriends know anyway.

Usopp tends to draw his boyfriends a lot. Sometimes he'll learn a new style of art from an island- think charcoal or watercolour or something like that- and he'll immediately draw countless little doodles of them as he messes around with it. When he feels particularly proud of a drawing, he shows it off to his boys. They always love what he makes and make sure he knows it. They do their best to make sure to leave no room for his doubts and self-worth issues to creep in. Also, Sanji always ends up putting it on the fridge and Usopp always gets flustered about it.

Sanji- he's really bad at taking a break sometimes. He'll have nightmares and end up staying up the whole night, maybe multiple in a row, instead of asking for help falling asleep again. He'll cook as usual, but his boyfriends notice his fatigue. They'll sit him down at the dining table and Luffy will grab a blanket- or whatever article of clothing is closest- and drape it over Sanji. Then, for good measure, he'll wrap himself around Sanji too. Usopp will reprimand him about taking care of himself, with help from Luffy, while Zoro heats up some milk and honey. Zoro will probably get the last word in, which always makes Sanji frustrated, but then he'll hand him the mug of warm milk and sit next to him and rub his free hand. Usopp will take his own seat across the table and start telling some kind of soothing story and by the end, Sanji will be asleep on the table, having pleasant dreams. In the morning, he'll make them all their favourite foods for breakfast as a thank you.

Oh these are so cute I love them so much! Just the idea of luffy backpacking sanji while he cooks is so adorable! I like to think sanji ends up feeding him pieces of whatever he’s cooking and letting him taste test and luffy just loves it and he thinks he’s really helping even though he’s not.

Boyfriend nappiles are the definitively the norm for them and they most definitely end up sleeping cuddling on the floor instead of their beds most nights lol.

Honestly the last one is my favorite it’s just so soft and nice🥺all of them taking care of sanji in their own way is just so cute I can just picture it so perfectly

[egg-baby-official]

Feeling the urge to draw some characters wearing my clothes again.... there's something healing about it

[7h3m4n9l3]

absolutely obsessed with this little graphic from CEC party games DS. the size the layout the visual interest - its so cute. and loops pretty well despite having 5 seperate animated sprites. i reeeaaally want to redraw this ......

[mortellanarts]

2023 go bye bye

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[fitzfunnymoments]

Thinking so much about the idea I have for a Little Robots movie <3 (it's not even a full idea beyond Watership Down but no one dies)

[crybaby-bkg]

our love is god from heathers is Yandere deku’s theme song and I just. I have so many Thoughts about it

[lumalalu]

man fuck it im gonna start doin wip wednesdays here

Summer is sweet and endless and she has nothing to do but look at me. She's looking at me now, through the sun's glare on her mirror. She shadows the shapes of my mouth, but doesn't put her voice to my words.

My parents are worried about Grace. They think something's wrong with her - I know what it is. Grace knows, too, looking at me, looking through the glare in the mirror. Everything about her is wrong. I could fix her, if she would let me.

Solid, measured knocks. "Gracie?"

"Yeah?" She pulls her braids back to look at her shoulders uncovered. The angle of her jaw. She is trying to see how it matches up to mine.

"Your mother and I are going to go to the mall. Do you want to come?"

I've never been a fan of the sweltering heat of a cracked-asphalt parking lot, nor the chill on my skin in a Macy's. Grace says, "Okay." But she only said that so that she can look away from me. She is a fool. I can be found in anything that can reflect. I watch her in the windows, in silver lockets, in the mirrors she models new boots in. She parades about like a wind-up toy, a ballerina in a music box. Her mother hands her new skirts for the new school year, button-up blouses, low-cut but not whorish, and modest stockings.

The dressing rooms are hidden in the corner, neatly separated by two icons of triangles - one upside and one downside. I follow her to the wrong one, the wrong stall. It's cramped and ill-fitting, somewhat like a body. Grace tries her best to avoid me still. It's a valiant effort, I'll give her that much. But at some point, in a few minutes, maybe, she'll have to turn around and face me.

Grace takes off her tanktop like the accused pushing off concrete slabs. She hisses with impatience at the clasp of her bra and its stubborn claws in her skin, throws it on the bench with more violence than is necessary. Branded into her back it remains, aching, smoking. Cramped and ill-fitting. She itches at it like the fabric is stuck in her, like it still remains subcutaneously and she could pull it away finally, permanently, if she also removed the skin. Her nails are well cared for, and so, won't do the job. I smile at the sound of her bent elbows.

Her pants go too, her keys squeezing free of the claustrophobic pockets and diving with raucous applause to the floor. Her phone is in her purse, because the back pockets are only decorative. Grace doesn't curse. Her words are never ugly. Instead, her lips bend into the shape of: "shit", and then she bends and picks up the keyring. It is unadorned. Why should it be anything else? A key only has one purpose.

For a moment we stand there together, Grace's back to me, my back not quite to hers. She is hesitating, stretching out the moment between one set of clothes and the next. The blouse is slippery and coarse in texture, sends spider legs running over her back. The skirt is of good quality, but takes up in the back, so she is afraid to bend. No pockets.

I ask her if I can see it. She stares at the off-white wall in silence, and then she turns.

"Oh, no, Gracie. That won't do at all." I tell her. "That thing isn't even fit to be a tablecloth. It's see-through, it's itchy on my ribs. It's pushing my skin too close to my bones, the points of my ribs poking at my lungs. It's like a coffin leaking air, sighing its way into the ground." 

Her breath hitches. "I don't know what's wrong with me." She's saying to herself, to the mirror, to me. I make a sound - in my mouth it is sympathetic, but in hers it is animal, pained, cornered.

[wikiangela]

chapter 3 of alive Shannon is such a disjointed mess so far and it's driving me crazy lmao

this is why I only write linearly, and here I skipped some stuff, some are just half-scenes with a note to add something (literally just that "add smth", nothing specific, and what is a problem for future me 😂), and I just can't lol

I finally got to the bombing but before I continue that, I think I need to clean up the rest of this bc it hurts to look at this mess haha

now only gotta find time to do that lol

[alchemocha]

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m going to try and draw something stobotnik related