#anyway i hope you like em :3

[may1th]

would yall be interested in seein my hylics oc??? no??

too bad

hi hi hi hi hi look at em!!!!! silly beast

they are a splithead!!!! hehehehe!!!!

they are 7'1 ft tall (around average for a splithead/hc)

they have a major fixation on dread knights (explaining why they wear armor constantly)

fun fact they were litteraly made on roblox look at them

i hope people wont mind if i plug my artfight here but uhh..

https://artfight.net/character/5214891.viperre-hylics-oc

incase you wanna attack em :3

(EXTRA!!)

another note i decided to add because im just insane is that i basically put alot of like..??? joseph joestar into him????

since for 1 i do think that they would do the whole ''your next line will be (blank)'' thing execpt this hardly ever works and also theyd definetly run like this

oh how i love you josephmuln/silly

[pokimoko]

Asexual bird? Please

How about two asexual birds?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

local dog unused to such fluff & tenderness, more at 8

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[goldenhypen]

⋆｡⠐ happy ✧｡♡

✴︎｡⠐ birthday ⠐⚬⋅｡

⋅｡⠐ to the kindest cutest most loving cheerful hard working greatest prettiest handsomest funniest hottest jakey sim 🦭 ⚬♡⋅｡

⎯ ⋅ ♡ ⋅ ⎯

jake, my love and admiration for you go beyond words. thank you for blessing me with so much joy and love in my life. you’re an inspiration to so many and i’m so grateful for you and incredibly proud of where you are and who you’ve become. and you deserve all the best things, or at least to have the best birthday of your life this year <3 eat well and celebrate lots my love <3 i love you and happy birthday <33

[starrysupercell]

this may be a weird-ish thing to ask but I was looking for some cool official art of Colette and stuff on here and found a post of yours with official-looking art, but it wasn’t the full image. do you have/can you find the full image of this? this is an entirely voluntary request you do not have to answer this ask!

Not weird to me :> This is that picture in its entirety!

And, I feel like I should make this a Coke master post while I'm at it! Because once I made an incomplete compilation for Fang and someone liked the fact that all the neat Fang pictures were in one spot.

So here you go! Colette may not be the focus in all of these, but she's in every one! I'm not completely sure if it's all of them though.

💝 Bonus:

A lil loop with her buying stuff!

[emile-hides]

Like a quadtrillion years ago I talked about a concept I had for a Full Squidbeak Platoon AU where we have about two agents per game, and my OCs I'd made to fill in those gaps. But back then I couldn't draw as well as I can now so I just made them in Splatoon's character creator and left it as that.

But now I CAN draw and now that Splatoon 3 has ended live updates and we've been told Splatoon 4 will be stepping away from these characters, I might as well finally draw and post them, right?

[tachyon-omlette]

Eda gets a Yatter account (based on a conversation I had with @soundcrusher​, ft. @thewiglesswonder​‘s oc Mac - or, well, her Yatter account)

full image:

(and without the green optic filter)

[pendraegon]

why is pete wentz important to me?? like him, i was a non white kid who grew up in a very white neighborhood in the chicagoland area and it was exhausting and isolating and so so so lonely it could make your teeth hurt. like him, i’m bipolar and no one has ever quite gotten close to describing what my highs and lows are like, but he’s the only one who has gotten close. (do you know what it's like being so so so manic and you know you're not okay and everything rushes around you and you feel like you're on top of the world but you know it's all a lie? an illusion? do you know what it feels like to plummet down so so so so deep and dark and there's nothing but you and that gaping ache inside of you, reminding you just how hollow and fake you are?) like him, i grew up enthralled and obsessed with rock, punk, the hardcore scene of chicago, and there was nothing and no one there for people like me and people who looked like me in a place and sound that i loved more than anything on earth. i saw him reflected in me and in the most non creepy parasocial way possible, he has been one of the most incredible influences of my life. maybe even one of the possible sunshines of my lifetime for all he is still a stranger to me, and i to him.

[politemagic]

Well, I admit that I have been Fantasizing about a life where I'm not there And everyone I ever loved felt not a single ounce of inconvenience Nobody cares

[jaggededges123]

Filthy Friday!!!! Please write some Eighthcest hair kink the world needs it Coffee 🥰 🥰 🥰

lmao this got... really long. much longer than i intended it to be

Silas's hair smells of soap, a clean, almost nonexistent scent that lingers on him after each bath. His soap is different from Colum's, gentler on thin skin and delicate hair for a man whose appearance is marginally more important than Colum's, if only because the other Houses put stock into it. Silas's soap has a hint of something ancient in it, and when Colum was younger and less haggard from his position as cavalier primary to the scion of the Eighth, he could breathe the aroma in and enjoy it from a standing position as he braided Silas's hair and felt the silky, nigh-translucent strands between his fingers.

Now, he has to get much closer to properly appreciate the totality of Silas's beautiful white-blond head. It is an indulgence that he didn't recognize as such in his youth, but now that his nose struggles to drag in the same information as it once did, he craves it. It's one of the multitude of things he finds himself coveting and unable to have when it comes to his young uncle, and specifically when it comes to Silas's hair.

He takes solace in still being the sole caretaker of Silas's hairstyle, the neat braid the Master Templar prefers for the way it gives him an austere silhouette, fitting for his station. Colum has never once suggested that if he enjoys his hair appearing short at first glance, that he get it cut--once Silas did suggest it himself musingly one night, after an elder mentioned that the length he preferred edged into vanity, but then he looked at Colum, and left it buried in the silence of their dinner table.

Silas is not vain over his appearance--in fact, everything above and beyond the most basic maintenance tasks are Colum's responsibility, his privilege really. Silas has never asked him to do more than simple braiding, but as he grows older, Colum takes more and more comfort from brushing a conditioning oil into Silas's hair in the evenings, in plaiting it simply for bed, in taking it down and rewinding it into his daily style, and in pressing his lips chastely and briefly to the crown of Silas's head. He takes the opportunity always to subtly breathe in the soap and new hair oil, which smells like frost.

Cold and pure, just as Silas is.

Colum begins having dreams of Silas's silky hair brushing soft over his lips, his neck, his--he cannot even think it when awake, for it is inappropriate in overlapping and interlocking manners to think of that anywhere near the Master Templar and Colum's very own adept, the boy he loved so much who grew into the man he loves and fears for and at times, is so very fed up with. He knows then, that what was once a mere platonic expression of love and care for his young uncle now borders on obsession, an unholy fetish.

That night, when Silas sits on the stool in front of the unfortunately-named vanity desk in their bedroom, hair wet from the bath, Colum hesitates. On the treasured, five-hundred-year-old, imported-from-another-system wooden surface, there are his usual implements: comb, brush, pins, oil, and a small, handheld mirror for Silas to evaluate the finished product. He has not once, not in the decade or so since his hair care became Colum's domain.

"Brother Colum," Silas says, admonishment in his tone at even a few moments of laxity, "we have yet to pray this evening. Your unnatural sluggishness will make us tardy to bed."

Unnatural, because Silas has not siphoned from Colum in nearly a week. Colum has no excuse to reach for, because any reasonable justification would be a falsehood and Colum Asht is not a man who lies.

"Brother Silas," Colum hedges, stepping closer despite his best instincts because he has never been very good at standing opposite his necromancer instead of behind, "perhaps we can truncate this routine tonight, and use the extra time for more prayers?"

It's low of Colum. He knows that Silas strives for better than perfection, to be devout and a delight unto their Lord and resurrector, and that it would be difficult for him to take another path if the most self-effacing one were suggested.

Silas looks back at Colum, face sharp and eyes a tender brown. He twists at the spindly waist of him, which makes him appear almost malformed due to his slight stature. Colum watches him consider the possibility.

"If there is something you feel you require correction and penitence in prayer for, then of course we shall address it."

Colum wishes Silas were just a little less clever, sometimes, but he is a necromancer after all, and moreover they have been together for his entire life. Colum has been caretaker, sword, shield, friend, brother, nephew, subordinate, source of thanergy to Silas. It would be strange if Silas, Master Templar of the White Glass, who has listened to more confessions than he could probably even remember, did not intuit when Colum was feeling guilty.

Colum cannot say no, because that is a lie. He cannot say yes, because to even mention that Colum lusted after Silas, dreamt of tangling his fingers in Silas's beautiful hair and pressing Silas into his bed--the bed forbidden to him--and rutting against him like an animal, would be a most profound violation of the sanctity and holy virginity of the Master Templar.

He says nothing, instead, letting the silence speak for itself as he lifts the comb and takes the precious strands of Silas's hair in hand. He tries desperately to think on things other than the way Silas's hair seems to cling to Colum's worn and callused nine fingers, leaving damp trails of kisses on the hands that care so tenderly for it.

Clearly, it doesn't work. Even worse, now that he is aware of just how deep his fascination goes, his body is reacting as much as it can. There is no codpiece or armor or heavy ceremonial robe to separate him and Silas now; Colum is dressed for bed already, in simple and thin summer clothes.

Colum's lower part pulses needily as he finishes brushing the oil into Silas's hair, and then pats it dry gently with the towel from around Silas's neck. The awareness of himself and his own desires is killing him metaphorically, and realistically if Colum is caught out having lustful fantasies over the Master Templar, he will be stripped of his rank and position and thrown in jail to either rot or be re-educated and reconciled to the light of the Lord which he has so very clearly lost.

He is fully hard, as he carefully runs Silas's hair through his fingers, separating it out and winding it all together in a different style from the day, one easier on Silas's fragile scalp. As always, the phantom sensation that Silas's hair leaves on his fingers will stay with him for hours afterwards, blessing his hands until he drifts off to sleep. Now that he knows why the feeling lingers, it strikes him more as a self-inflicted curse, rather than a minor benediction from one of God's most elevated servants.

Colum does not dare to kiss Silas's head tonight, nor to try to breathe in the pleasant scent of it. He does not deserve it, and moreover Colum must get into the privacy of the bathroom before his very presence taints the one who, above all others, cannot be sullied. And, despite himself, he is a little afraid of being found out, of being ripped apart from Silas who he waited for his entire childhood and adolescence, and looked after for his entire adulthood.

Before Colum can take a single step or even turn, Silas leans back, uncommonly, horrifyingly. This presses him up against Colum's thighs and puts Colum's... dick right between Silas's bony shoulder blades. His hair brushes against Colum's stomach, clothed, though Colum suddenly wishes more than anything in the world that either he were not wearing his nightshirt already, or that these impure feelings would depart from him.

It's too late for that, though. It's too late for him.

Silas stiffens when he feels what he now squishes between his spine and the thick layer of flesh that encases Colum. "Brother Asht, what is this?"

Colum's heart stops dead in his chest. He doesn't know how to answer Silas, his necromancer, head of his House, the closest thing Colum may ever see to God, his beloved who he has cared for all his life. But his uncle has called him with a question.

And Colum must answer.

"It's my sin, Si."

[simplepotatofarmer]

i truly wanted to write today but i'm exhausted. i had to shovel a lot of snow from around the run and then i spent like. four solid hours just being sad about watson. <3 <3 but! i'm really excited for the prospect of hatching cluck and brittney m. crockpot eggs this spring! :D

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

yk if i didn't grow up in a constant state of emotional repression, id probably be a disaster right now

[a-quilted-milky-way]

acid green erisolsprite icons for anon! hope you like em!

[whosthere54]

I love occasionally seeing people I follow like my silly little posts it just makes me go yknow thank you for confirming I’m right /lh/hj

Like thank you for perceiving me I must’ve said something good that one time-

[singsweetmelodies]

🙄