#I have stuff I wanna get out of my head

[mugmegan]

ugh I dont wanna study I wanna draw

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[mangfotingar]

in daniel matthews' case, it takes a village

[royaltea000]

Two young knights

[sonknuxadow]

LOVE LOSES !!!!!!!!!!!!

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[the-wiggler]

take me in your tender arms, roll me in the dirt

Sypnosis: It's not love, but Gage will take what he can (and remain in deep denial).

spotify play lover's dream by saints amongst sinners

[title is from cover me in roses in holden laurence]

word count: 1.3k

“Fuck, this party is boring,” They sigh, leaning on the counter and taking a swig of their beer. They were in the kitchen of some house party, the sound of some Spotify EDM playlist thumping in the background. 

Gage glanced over, peeling away at the sticker of some off-brand beer, condensation dripping down his hands. “Yeah,” He chuckled, eyes darting to them, “We should’ve known the minute we heard this music. It’s downright tragic.” His eyes follow the curve of their smirk, searching for approval. 

‘Down, boy. Your tail is practically wagging.’

Gage quickly averts his eyes, paying close attention to the way the ceiling light hits his beer bottle. He could barely look in their eyes most of the time, breathtakingly beautiful and full of promises. But now, when they were dressed in some tight top that left little to the imagination and showed just enough skin to leave him craving for more, Gage feared bursting into flames if he looked at them too long.

“I thought that parties now would be better than those booze-fests in high school but God,” They sigh, running a hand through their hair, “This is somehow worse. It smells like sex and artificial fruits everywhere.”

“That’s the vapes, I think. All the rage nowadays.” 

They wrinkle their nose, “Fuck, that must be it. God, I can’t believe I got dressed for nothing.” 

“I mean you look good,” He nervously forces out, taking a swig of his beer to fuel his confidence, “And maybe I could, uh, give that outfit the attention it deserves. Could think of a few ways to make it worth your while. Upstairs, maybe.” 

They return the look with a surreptitious smile and throw back a sip of their own beer, letting the question linger in the stale, suddenly too-quiet kitchen. “Yeah? And just what do you intend to do to me upstairs, mister?” 

It’s a game they play, sometimes at a frat party, sometimes when they message him in the middle of the night to come over, and they spend the hour making “small talk” before they inevitably end up in bed again. Always playing coy, dancing around what they really wanted. Teasing him and pushing him until he took the final step. It made Gage’s head spin. 

“Oh? You want me to say it here? In the kitchen?” He feigns disbelief, placing his beer bottle down, placing it on his chest in astonishment, “You absolute heathen!”

Mocking, joking, in an attempt to break the blatantly brewing sexual tension.

He’s still learning to get over his people-pleasing propensities, learning to ask for what he wants directly and accepting the consequences. But it’s a work in progress, and when faced with his friends-with-benefits that he’s not in love with, his resolve crumbles and all he knows is to beat around the bush, to laugh off any sense of intimacy between them, to hide any semblance of yearning on his part. 

“Hmm,” They smile, enigmatic as the Mona Lisa. Putting down their beer and moving to face him, they crowd him against the countertop, pressing their barely covered chest to his, eyes slowly dragging up, lingering, very pointedly, on his lips before meeting his gaze, “Me? A heathen? You’re the one who’s been staring at me all evening, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The words whispered against his lips, softly, their lips grazing against his for the briefest of seconds before pulling away, like it was a secret only for the both of them. 

Cause at the end of the day, that was all it was, wasn’t it? They were each other's dirty secret, whispered under the loud music of a frat party, said in the silent looks sent across the room. And Gage was fine with that, really, he was. The physical satisfaction of feeling them close to him, sending waves and waves of pleasure coursing through him, sneaking out of their room even before the sun had risen, hiding away in closets and watching them flirt with other people, just for him to end up in their bed again. He was absolutely ok with that. 

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he surges forward, closing the distance between them with one hand cupping their face, the other dropping down to their waist, removing any semblance of space between them.  

They move in tandem, lips moulding and bodies pushing against each other. God, they tasted good, like beer and passion and wanton lust. He was addicted to the taste, addicted to them, their hands roaming his body, their body grinding against his. An erotic display of bodies moving against each other, grasping desperately where they could, tiny gasps and moans entirely too inappropriate for the back of some frat boy’s kitchen.

They part, eyes still closed, his lips desperately chasing theirs. “Shall we, uh, adjourn to the bedroom, my liege?” Even now, even when they’ve made clear their desires, will he continue to hide the hopeless pining of his heart. Because this isn’t what he wants, not really, no matter how much he lies to himself, tells himself otherwise.

He wants to kiss them because he wants to, wants to kiss them over morning breakfast, wants to be greeted with their sweet smile when he comes home from work, wants to learn the quiet, intimate, inconsequential details of their everyday life, wants to become so intertwined with them that he teetered on the very edge of losing himself. 

Most importantly, he wanted them to love him the way he loves them.

But that’s for another night.

For now, he revels in their breathless chuckle, letting them pull him through the throngs of drunkards into some random’s bedroom. There, they push him onto the bed, grinning deviously as he lets out a quiet oof before climbing on top of him and continuing their heated kiss. His hands move to tug at their hair, swallowing the groan that falls from their lips while they move to slip under his shirt, cold hands against his warm body making him shudder. 

“Watch the hands,” He breathlessly warns as they part, even as he quickly pushes his sweater over his shirt, “Oh- fuck- wait, my sweater uh- a little help please?” They snort, breaking the mood momentarily as they carefully manoeuvre his sweater over his head. 

“Ok, ok quit laughing, asshole,” He complains, tugging at the hem of their tight shirt, “C’mon, off. S’not fair I’m the only half-dressed one here.” 

“Wait.” They mutter, moving their head down to press a light kiss to his neck, forcing a gasp through Gage’s lips. They continue their assault on him, pressing soft kisses all over his body, marking him, smiling against his soft body as he falls apart under their ministrations. 

And maybe one day, Gage will ruin this perfectly good arrangement, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. But for now? For tonight? When they’re worshipping him like this, sweet praises falling from those kiss-bruised lips? When their hands are pressed against his sweaty body? Gage will tell himself that maybe, just maybe, they feel the same way he does, that they want him the way he does. 

That maybe their heart also threatens to burst when they hear him laugh, that they search for him in every room without even meaning to. That every joke they tell is just to hear him laugh, that every love song seems to have that one specific line that so perfectly describes him, that they have a secret playlist for him that they listen to in the dead of night. That every kiss they press to his body is an admission of love, of adoration for his entire being. 

He lets himself forget, momentarily, that this is all a dream, that in the morning (if they even stayed that long) this would be over; that the love and ecstasy he feels is only a means to an end for them, a temporary distraction for his aching heart. 

For tonight, he forgets. 

[stormbreaker-290]

In other news:

[drpicklesart]

so I had the idea for something like this a while ago, but last night I walked in on my sister watching those compilations of stuff just. getting crushed in a crusher and I knew what I had to do.

[somegrumpynerd]

I have a scene in my head that I wanna explore in my truce au but I have to draw so much first to get there so here are scribbly contextless doodles in the meantime

[triglycercule]

all i have been able to think about today is that silly little knife game where you stab the spots between your fingers and try not to hurt yourself and how that silly little game is SO horrorkiller. i cant explain it it bothers me so much that i cant explain it but it just does its so them

they play it when theyre bored. because when in doubt bodily mutilation and the risk of hurt and pain is always an appealing one. and when i mean they i just mean killer because horror wouldn't wanna just hurt himself on the fly like that for funsies. he likes to see others hurt because hahaha FINALLY some damn entertainment!!! but hurting himself???? nononnno hes already got enough body pain as it is oh and killer has already grabbed his hand and started playing (and now horror can't back out because killer's got him sucked in the game)

they sing the silly little song. horror has all his fingers the knife goes chop chop chop if killer misses the spaces in between horror's fingers will come off! and they are both enraptured and both captured in this childishly morbid game. it's so anticipatory because they both know its all up to killer to decide if horror gets hurt. hes more than precise enough to keep the game going for hours long without ever hitting horror but would he want to keep it going for that long? horror doesn't know how long killer would want to wait before getting to see him react to getting hurt

and killer does eventually do it even after theyre sung the song over and over countless times and tried different harmonies and finally killer decides to end this little song and dance and stab into horror's hand. maybe he decides to do a finger. maybe the palm if he really wants to piss horror up. its sudden its surprising and GODDAMN is it painful!!!! horror's trying not to show it but with all the sweat and the way his fingers are twitching killer can see that it hurts him. it's a bit amusing :3

and then horror grabs the knife from killer and they do it all over again but this time horror's the one doing the stabbing. he's not as precise as killer. he hits him a lot more than killer hit him but goddamn it he is in PAIN and wants to let it out because hes annoying and irritated and goddamnit would killer just stop looking at him with that blank smile while he's bleeding out from his hand???? yeah horror's pissy

horror's annoyed and trying to get some form of petty revenge on killer (he likes it when he finally manages to get that stupid smile to falter just a little bit) and killer's watching horror desperately try not to just stab the knife through his oh so very exposed soul that he could very easily hurt if he really wanted to hurt killer. anyways the game finally ends when either one or both of them get bored! but thats fine!!! killer will get bored again and horror will end up escalating it to a messier point than it was before and the only thing that'll get hurt is the surface that they use to stab between fingers. oh and eachother of course :p

[afrenomes]

It feels like I’ve forgotten how to make art

which sucks because I’m supposed to be, like, making a career out of this

[telesodalite]

I need to be weirder about the scavengers and cannibalism...

[south-sea]

i think a lot of people don’t always realize the difference between “this is how i interpret canon” and “this is how i want to write it because that’s what’s fun to me”. a lot of times the latter is all headcanons or AUs are, not an indication of what the writer thinks “is” or “should be” canon

more power to those who are super tuned into actual canon and know these details like the back of their hand, but sometimes people just wanna use a series as a sandbox, not a ruleset. genuinely nothing but respect for people who ARE that knowledgeable, but i and a lot of other people are just here to have fun with characters we enjoy—and want to put them in more accessible settings

[capricioussun]

Not for any particular reason, but chat how would we feel about a uf papyrus / general underfell focused magma on monday? Would that be nice?