#I should study probably

[romanscool]

this is a very small snippet of the beginning of a 10k words chapter,,, you won't get any context sorry not sorry

-> day 5/10: that wanting feeling

Daniel’s stomach feels funny. The want to throw up is back, but there’s also this deep, deep pit of something that Daniel can’t put a name on, hasn’t been able to ever since he left and God. It’s just weird. Max not talking to him for three whole fucking years and just, asking for Daniel to come to the hospital after such a big crash. Like he wants Daniel to see how bad he got or something.  It’s just, weird. Not to do anything except when he has to.  « Is this you reaching out? », Daniel asks. He knows he won’t get an answer. But he wants one. He wants. He wants Max to wake up and apologize for everything, wants to apologize for everything he’s done, too. Wants Max to tell him he’s been wanting, too. 

all chapters of this little series here! hoping to see you in the next one!

until then, lots of love <3

[buttercupshands]

Just Loop.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

give me some whiskey and ill draw The Most Thing i can come up with

bonus:

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

Style swap- Invader Zim and Psychonauts

Cause I thought it would be fun and practice

.

(Please do not use or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me first thank you <3)

[daily-odile]

odile with a gun perhaps

gun

[rogdona]

[sandeewithtwoe]

squeaks at u

lust maybe? 🥺

i just wanna pat them in your art style

Gives them lots of pats

[gunstellations]

clouds

[lovebeatriceplz]

Hiii ! i wanted to know if you could make more Larry’s headcanons??? i love him so much help-

I've been meaning to do this forever but skl started and I'm rlly busy😭

My Larry Johnson headcanons pt. 3 🧚

General and dating

- Fast driver, turns those corners like it's nothing.

- Calls you up at very odd hours of the night/day. Doesn't actually have anything to say, he just wants you to talk to him.

- Enjoys comfortable silences.

- Obsessed with the feel of you, not even in a dirty way. He wants to be in your skin.

- Smells like pine needles and smoke (trust me he told me).

- Wiggles his finger in your ear when he wants you to pay attention to him.

- His humor is either eye watering, floor rolling, perfectly timed comedy or literal dad jokes, there's no in-between.

- Silent treatment does not work on him, you'll end up speaking very quickly.

- Snores like "honk shoo, honk shoo"

- Sensitive scalp, the second your hands are in his hair he's struggling to keep his eyes open.

- Teaches you (or tries to-) anything that he's good at/ interested in. So now you have basic knowledge on guitars, drums , painting, colour theory, video games and.... Hamilton??😧

- He was a theatre kid ok🙄.

- Listens to Mother Mother.

- His love languages are all of them, loves hard.

- Adores gifts, or anything that he receives from you. He's keeping it forever.

- Has ghosting phases, unfortunately. I doubt that they last long (like a day) but he always comes back around.

- Loves matching anything, clothes? Jewelry? Shoes?, he'll do it.

- Licks any part of you he can access then pretends like nothing happened.

- He wants to get close to anybody your close to, and wants to love anything that you love. It's one of the many ways he shows that he cares.

- Silly little guy <3

[iffondrels-library]

I LOVE giving these heroes big honkin ears. What's that? They're for hearing the gods? Nah I gonna make em scrunkly. Just absolutely ripped to shit like feral cats. They react the same way, too. Observe.

[dustykneed]

3+1: three times jim, spock and bones pressed each other into walls in sticky situations...

and one time they didn't need an excuse to do it anyways 😉

prompt fill for @mcspirkevents' mcspirk bingo prompt "why would you..."

[collophora]

Found a cool color palette. Might finish it later. (Probably not.)

[spaciebabie]

"who would win in a fight springtrap or x?" springtrap has the cataclysmic ability to fumble every single fight hes in w/out fail

[faaun]

last night i got home kind of tipsy and very much in tears and my mother told me the force you exert to keep someone in your life is proportional to the force with which they will leave your life. if you have to fight tooth and claw to keep them, their leaving will be just as hard, just as harsh, and just as definite.

[pallanophblargh]

Color! Composition still wonky, but this was done mainly to see how I liked the colors and such. I can reposition and resize birds/leaves/etc another time. And get a decent proper hexagon drawn up.

This has been an exercise in not letting perfection hold me back. I have to start getting back into art somehow, right?

[moonstruckmoony]

So a long while ago @lamieboo tagged me in this post (I'm not reblogging bcs it'll be way too long sorry 😢) I made some art and wrote a whole one shot for it because it was the perfect opportunity for a Winter lore I've always wanted to make. Please be kind lol 💀 I haven't written in ages and I'm such a noob when it comes to writing, also English isn't my native language. I had to run my draft through multiple writing tools back and forth to find better phrasings and dictions that better express what I want to convey. Roughly ~1,000 words.

Green and Gold

She stepped forward as the wardrobe creaked open, the boggart slipping through the narrow gap in the door. Long, flowing golden threads emerged first, and Winter drew in a sharp breath.

The rest of the boggart soon took form—a woman in a pale blue dress, slumped weakly on the floor, her calf bleeding from a deep slash. Golden locks framed her worried face, and her piercing blue eyes, so much like Winter’s own, locked onto hers. Winter’s hand instinctively went up to the scar across her left eye. The woman’s chest heaved with silent breaths. The faint murmur of the students lining up behind Winter faded until she could hear nothing. Then, the woman’s lips parted, as if to speak.

“Close your eyes, snowflake.”

Was that truly her mother’s voice? Winter couldn’t remember if boggarts could speak. Could they mimic human voices? Or was it only mouthing the words while the voice echoed from somewhere deep within her mind?

Her hands went clammy. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. 

She knows what’s coming next. Behind her mother’s beautiful, tear-streaked face, a blinding green light appeared. Winter swiftly squeezed her eyes shut and raised her wand. “Riddikulus,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she kept her eyelids tightly closed.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · · Sebastian went pale, even as the swirling Mallowsweet leaves spun into a twister before him, which without question, the most mesmerising form of the Riddikulus charm he had ever seen. It wasn’t a form he would laugh at, unlike most transformations of the charm. It was breathtaking. But no, what had truly gripped him was the green light that followed her mother’s appearance. He had never seen Winter like this—paralysed by fear, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. She was always so composed, so captivating. Full of life, curiosity, and wonder.

He hadn’t realised this was her deepest fear.

And it was the very same curse he had cast just last year. On his uncle. Right in front of her. What had she looked like back then? He couldn’t quite remember. The sound of her laboured breathing lingered faintly in his mind, and he recalled her standing frozen for a moment before following him as he fled the catacombs. But the look on her face—he had no memory of it. Was she shocked? Horrified? Traumatised? He had been too distraught, too consumed by his own turmoil, to notice. Merlin, how must she have felt? Watching her best friend cast the Killing Curse—the very same curse that had taken her mother’s life—right in front of her? His throat went dry. His insides twisted painfully. Clenching his hands into fists, he dug his nails into his palms.

Was this… was this the reason she had refused to learn the spell? Not that he had wanted her to; in fact, he had been relieved when she didn’t. But it left him with questions. She was his kindred spirit, after all, and he knew the Dark Arts intrigued her, even if it was purely out of curiosity and for the sake of knowing. She wanted to learn, and had learned the other two curses. He had thought, perhaps, she would eventually ask about the last one, even though he wasn’t sure if he could bear to teach her—not after what happened to Solomon, to himself.

To Anne. But she was adamant in her refusal to learn it. She had said so out of the blue, when they began speaking again after the catacombs—after weeks of silence between them. Now, he finally understood why. And his heart broke for her. “Sebastian? Sebastian, what just happened?” Ominis’ voice snapped him back to reality. His best friend’s face was filled with concern, surely anxious for not being able to see what’s happening. Just this time, Sebastian is glad he couldn’t. He wouldn’t want Ominis to witness her in such a state. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He tried again, but his gaze drifted to Winter, who was slowly making her way towards them from the front of the line. Another student—Arthur Plummly, perhaps—stepped forward to face the boggart, but Sebastian hardly noticed. His focus was solely on Winter, her head bowed, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body trembling slightly. “Winter…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. They stood there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze. “I… I’m sorry.” He finally managed to speak. “What... what are you apologising for?” So much. Even though he’d already apologised to her and Ominis countless times, he hasn’t apologised for this one. “You—you know why.” He knew she understood. They’d always had a way of reading each other, and this was one of those moments. “That’s… It’s not—you shouldn’t…” She trailed off. And Sebastian was thankful she didn’t finish. Because he did feel like he should apologise. Even though hadn’t known about this, what he did that day might’ve stirred up memories she had buried deep down. Just like the cursed boggart had just now. Another silence passed before he slowly pulled her into an embrace. One hand rested on her back, the other gently cradling the back of her head. She froze at first, startled, but after a moment, her body softened into his arms as he tenderly stroked her hair. From his peripheral vision, Sebastian saw Ominis approached hesitantly. His alabaster hand tentatively found Winter’s smaller one, which still hung limply at her side, and she allowed their fingers to entwine. Sebastian could see the questions lingering in his best friend’s furrowed brows, but he’s certain that Winter would talk to him–she would explain everything to them when she’s ready.

He glanced forward, aware of the curious eyes from the students waiting in line—some watching with intrigue, others with quiet sympathy. It was a peculiar view, after all: Winter with her two best friends huddled together in such an unusual position. Up front, he caught sight of Amit ducking as his boggart morphed into harmless paper planes flying about after his successful Riddikulus. Sebastian hadn’t seen Amit’s boggart, but he imagined it was likely something ordinary, like a failing report card marked with a dreaded “T” in Astronomy or History of Magic.

None of that mattered now. The only person of importance was the girl in his arms, her trembling slowly subsiding, her once-laboured breathing easing into a soft, steady rhythm.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · ·