#NOT a good obsession to have! yet i have

[egophiliac]

since Eng is getting 7.5 soon(?), I felt motivated to go back to my Meleanor rig and make her a couple of lesson animations! ...except for alchemy, because the cauldron bubbles proved too hard to photoshop around, whoops.

maybe she just got lost on her way to the classroom...?

(credit: backgrounds are from the game, I just put her on top of 'em)

(aside from the backgrounds, this is not an edit, I drew her from scratch! please do not tag or treat as an edit!)

[technically-human]

Enter the Crow King, merry wanderer of the night.

He's a little charmer, even when your best mate has captured and jailed one of his crows! He wants you to stick around for a bit longer, though...

@i-am-as-normal-as-you-are commissioned this one, of course! You guys have been waiting for Monty for so long that I feel like I would never have gotten around to drawing him without some help lol

(@m0scorner I stole your gloves. They're just perfect)

Bonus dreamling, because you know the Crow King is stealing that aesthetic:

[otaku553]

Save me yi nine sols

(You should play nine sols it’s very very fun)

[myokk]

from my oneshot, note-taking 🫶🫶🫶

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

jon val jon or something

[teddybeartoji]

heavily based on the puss in boots movie but sukuna x death!reader..

a bounty hunter, who has set their eyes on the infamous sukuna,, known for his bloody blade and his feracious smile, he doesn't even bat an eye when you show him the wanted poster. he makes a joke about it, he laughs in your face.

but he does enjoy the fight and he is amused by this ridiculous act of yours, so he decides to draw his sword just to humor himself on this late night.

"try me if you dare, you wouldn't be the first to— "

like a gust of wind, like a slap in the face – you swat the blade from his hand without even looking at him properly and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

the steel clatters against the cold floor, it glimmers under the dim lights of the tavern. sukuna doesn't get scared. he doesn't.

the corners of your lips quirk up and the room goes cold. a mean laugh ripples from your throat and his stomach churns.

"go on, pick it up."

he swallows the lump in his throat.

the few steps count as a walk of shame inside his head. he won't let you get away with toying with him like this. adrenaline pumps in his veins as he bends to pick up his weapon and the moment his calloused fingers wrap around the handle, he's swinging it at your back with a low growl.

the sound two swords make when they clash against one another is nothing new to sukuna, so it really shouldn't be as big of a surprise when you deflect his blow.

when you deflect it with ease, with a smirk on your face.

sukuna's eye twitches.

a second swing and then a third. you're unfazed.

"sloppy."

he clicks his tongue and forces down the raw anger bubbling up his gullet.

a fourth and a fifth. a sixth. sparks from the blades glimmer in your dark eyes as you blatantly laugh in his face, seemingly so far from his reach that sukuna trips over his own thoughts – he reacts half a second too late and pays the price for it immediately; the cold steel rests against his adam's apple, your breath fanning his face as you tug him closer by the collar of his shirt. stuck between the counter and the end, he glares at you. he snarls, he bares his teeth.

a drop of crimson runs down the side of his neck as you brush your cold nose against his cheek. too close, you're too fucking close. the quiet, honeyed hum you give him gnaws on his insides, it tears into them like a hungry dog. your lips ghost over his pulse point and he feels you smile.

you inhale and a shiver runs up his spine.

"this is always the best part... when the fear finally starts to bleed, when you can taste it. smell it." his free hand curls into the material of your cloak but he's unable to do anything. he can't push and he can't pull, a deer stuck in a trap.

you slot a thigh between his thighs and press your blade deeper into him. "isn't it exciting to be so close to me, hm?"

warm blood trickles over your fingers. the tall man before you shrinks under your presence, under the weight of your makeshift scythe. he holds onto you like his life depends on it and withers at your next words.

"i'll take good care of you, i promise."

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about how eddie munson probably has a ridiculous collection of guitar picks. little jars of them. some collected at shows, some he picked up for a nickel at the only local music shop he's ever trusted to do work on his Sweetheart, some he was gifted for free at his local record shop that he's been frequenting for years now. the little old man running the record shop even gets excited when new vinyls are sent out with promotional merch, and he knows it's a band or musician eddie is into. probably even called eddie in at times and handed him a handful of metallica themed pics, hardly worth much, but solely because "i knew you like them and will find a good use for these, son".

my point is, he's got a pick for every occasion. shitty plastic thin ones for just fucking around with. thicker, nicer ones that might have been proper holiday gifts to him. the kind that are meant to hook on his fingers like rings (he tried using them a few times, especially for rifts, but ended up saying he played better when he felt the strings against his skin instead while picking away). novelty ones, ones that just looked plain cool. so on and so forth.

and he's got his collection just sitting in little jars across his room. he used to keep them in other things, like old ash trays or tin cans he'd cut and mold to be good containers. but then he started dating you, and you insisted on lending him any empty jars you weren't using. you had your own collections in yours: pretty stones found down by the creek, bottle caps of the sodas you and eddie get every time you stop at the gas station right on the edge of town by lover's lake - you even had one of every single crumpled up note eddie had ever given you over your time of dating. a few jars of those, actually. so what was lending him a few spares? at this point, the jars were a collection in themselves, and... well... it was prettier to see his vast collection in those glass jars anyways. being able to pick out the vibrant tones of the guitar pick you'd been with him as he'd purchased two weeks prior, or the pick from the show you'd gotten him tickets to last christmas. it was nice. a cute reminder of time spent, of what made eddie munson tick.

the important thing is, eddie munson isn't blind. he sees the way you look at that collection, especially after he fills the jars with it.

how some days, he'll be strumming away on his guitar, softly humming, and you'll just grab a jar to pick through. interrupting his nonsensical playing to ask him where he got one you didn't recognize, sometimes asking for the stories behind ones he knew you already knew. he'd caught on to the way you just liked hearing him talk, especially about the things he cared most about.

you also really, really liked the pick he wore as a necklace. it was probably your favorite in his collection, and you knew it was his favorite too. giving it as a gift to you was never an option, because it had been given as a gift to him originally by his mom.

so he does the next best thing.

he figures out your favorite pick in his collection. the one you always go back to, the one you ask for the story behind on a nearly weekly basis. one similar to the one always resting against his collarbones. pearly sheen, marbled tones, a slow indent the shape of his thumb being worn into the old tortoiseshell. it's a little less red, a little bit brighter, and he can't even strum it against his strings anymore without thinking of you. it's somehow become his lucky pick - the pick he cherishes most aside the one from his mom.

and the one he chooses to turn into a necklace, for you.

does it all himself. carefully piercing a hole through the top just like his own, picks out a nice chain that costs two paychecks of his, takes an old pocket knife to it and spends weeks carving your initials into the shiny material. he's gentle as hell with it, finishing it off with some gold paint to fill in the carving that matches the chain and swirling tones of the picks.

a week before christmas he nearly backs out of the gift idea, and almost begs wayne to help him go to the mall and pick out some other basic but safe gift for you. a perfume/cologne, a nice sweater, anything. wayne refuses to let him, and the only thing the gentle old man will offer is a nice box for eddie to place that necklace born of love into.

the look on your face on christmas morning, sitting in the center of the munson's living room, on the verge of happy tears as you lift the homemade necklace so gently, soothes away every single doubt ever had about it all.

and the look on wayne's face is a simple, caring, stern vision of i told you so.

[dewwshi]

i read homeland and this is mostly the impression i got

[xxplastic-cubexx]

thought you'd enjoy this art by ozanpulat on insta.

OH I DO I DO VERY MUCH ENJOY THIS

[embarasseddragon234]

Just watched/read Dandadan and there's something familiar about the boyo lol

Jokes aside, I think Okarun and Dib would be friends!

OR Dib would stab him, considering Dib's first reaction to meeting an alien was "I'm gonna catch and dissect you!" Because he's the most feral 12 year old to ever exist.

But they'd EVENTUALLY be friends. After a bit of stabbing.

[egophiliac]

couple more quickies, because I gotta work through my Shroud-family feelings before I can even begin to process the Diasomnias, please bear with me 🙇

anyway, I couldn't decide which composition I liked better, so I did both!

[arctic-reptile]

sukekiyo ElectricLadyLand (08.07.2024)!!!! they all look so good auaaagahagh

kyo from instagram; yuchi, takumi, and utA from twitter

[idontmindifuforgetme]

when you accept that the unique things about you are the best things about you. when you fall in love w your uniqueness and become obsessed w it and reject conformity. when you think for yourself and draw your own conclusions and adore that you don’t perfectly fit into a mold. that’s when you’ll know true peace

[kenmaiii]

after two years i finally draw the favorite

[panharmonium]

i am not usually interested in dramatically canon-divergent scenarios because the canon story is what compels me, but i've been obsessed with this moment ever since i re-heard it during my second viewing. from the perspective of someone who already finished the story once and now knows the truth - this was wild.

WHAT IF?