#and i have so many ideas lol

[skelebab]

Saw this post:

And got inspired

[hiding-under-the-willow]

Okay so things have mayhaps gotten immediately out of hand with this au.

But! Yippee!! Main hermit ghosts design lineup!!!

[crispyliza]

I've got you all figured out fanartists

[verflares]

(draconifies your zelink) oh whoops lol

+ an extra pic of em hanging out together :]

btw, you can find these guys on inprnt! both as a pair, or apart :] You Choose.

[off-mozzarella]

Please read by opening each image, otherwise it makes no sense lol

This is the most stupid thing I've done all year but I was already too far into it when I started regretting it XD

I don't usually do this kind of thing but the concept had been rotating in my mind for a few weeks and I needed to get it out

I have a few ideas but this was already long enough and it felt like a good spot to cut it off, buut I want to see if people like it so 👉👈 hope you enjoyed it

Sorry if it feels a bit weird, I may be able to draw but not write lol, this is my first actual attempt at making a comic

[go-star-sailor]

transfem wirt truthers wya

[lylahammar]

Zorella, the centaur pop queen ✨

Thank you to everyone who helped me by voting on her final design in the poll from last week! I'm so so so happy with how she turned out 🥰

[scaredspoons]

roblox homestuck roleplay truly a place of inspiration

[skitastc]

Brownies❤

Ink!sans by Comyet

Palette Roller by angeutblogo

Paperjam by 7goodangel

Undertop!Gaster by stylincheetah

[cheriboms]

everybody was very nice on my last post(s) so !!! more cole and manfred be upon you :D

[sleepytroll]

[puppppppppy]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[somegrumpynerd]

The call is coming from inside the house, Dust

[bthemistake]

'Life in the hands of Helio'

Warning for graphic description of gore + injury below

↓

[Image Description:

With his throat slit, blood bubbling up into his mouth and soaking into his white collared shirt, Buddy Dawn struggles in the arms of Kristen Applebee's. His eyes are wide, unseeing, and hands come up to try and grasp onto Kristen as some kind of anchor, mutedly pleading for help.

Kristen's hand hovers above his throat, unable to help him with his death all but promised by his own party leader, Kipperlilly, and her god too far out of reach. She is panicked and resigned to only hold the kid she had hated moments ago. There is no miracle, no burst of light from the crystals in her pocket, when Buddy Dawn dies.

There is a visual parallel, with both Kristen and Buddy being dotted with freckles and something familiar in their eyes. If there had never been 'The Bad Kids', if she'd never asked to be put in detention with the intent to convert people to Helio, would she have ended up the same way?

Buddy had once said "I don't hold on tight, 'cause I'm in someones hand [...] You know Helio is holding onto us tight." but there is no Helio in sight, only Kristen. All that is left is for Buddy to go and meet his so-called-god and ask why he let him die, unaware he will not get an answer.]

[soepwashere]

I was rereading the rise comics recently and I feel the need to point out that Mikey is carrying Raph and Leo on his shoulders so casually in these panels

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."