#crayons on the wall

[paleiido]

Miss girl i love uuuu

[cancelforcipe]

Looks like someone was caught red-handed.

Fanart for Bean!Bloodmoon from Bean Eclipse AU by @socksandbuttons.

[expiredsoupbowl]

𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘉𝘺 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥

[jadecantcreate]

in the whitchlite carinval. straight up “caking it.” and by “it”, haha, well. lets justr say. My chad

(some gideon exploration & little doodles)

[the-stag-and-the-dog]

IF HANNIBAL WAS A BIRD HE WOULD BE A LAHORE PIGEON!!!!! CHANGE MY MIND!!!!!

YOU CANNOT TELL ME HE WOULDNT BE.

[that-guy-liam]

I’m addicted to drawing with crayons it’s so fun (o_o)−☆

[saintflint]

maggie smith, good bones | hbo’s the last of us (2023)

[dino-boyo-agere]

Bath-Crayons for guests to draw on my wall!!

Why should I be the only person that gets to have fun coloring on my bathroom walls?! Bath-Crayons for everyone!!

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

↑ [German writing: "Drawing on the wall? HAVE FUN!"] ↑

↑ [Lots of colors and even some stencils] ↑

↑ [First two artworks by yours truly] ↑

↑ [First time a stencil got used - it's a fishie] ↑

↑ [Four more adorable drawings by different friends] ↑

.･｡ﾟ×ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.✧.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ☆ﾟ×ﾟ｡･.

I can only recommend this fun little idea!! The bath crayons are super easy to clean off the wall and guest always have a blast <3

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

.･｡»･⁠°✧❗I don't consent to NSFW interaction❗✧°･«｡･.

[otiksimr]

*draws on your walls*

I love your art :)

The amount of which I'm going to have to clean after this mess.

[chimeraeyes]

Here's a close look on what my Babyjail looks like behind bars!

[whimsicalcotton]

so hype im shaking like a small dog

sdfjkshdf thank u anon <3

[paleiido]

🕵️‍♀️wots all dis...

[mrtechlab]

Come get y'alls food

I have cheese for the rats here. I'm writing more fanficiton!

Doing a professor Techno, ghost Tommy, and very young adult Tubbo (and Phil of course, it wouldn't be right to leave him out) with the obvious found family trope and a side of ghost shenanigans. The goal however is to make you cry smiling.

I've got three pages out already and this is the happiest I've been with my writing so far. I don't like picking parts out so just take like the whole first page:

(Skip past the big ol' paragraph if you want quick dialogue)

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The halls are chill and barely lit, a hollow echo of their usual life. Hundreds of students pass through them daily, bringing warmth and sound to cover the creaking of old floorboards and warped, rattling windows. Yet every night they leave, and the building descends into darkness. But there is no fear, only the comfort of holding a stuffed dog tattered more from love than age; it was ripped and repaired, held and thrown, old but never unfamiliar. The bones may settle and creak in the dark but their language is comfort. The sounds of Manberg University for History and the Arts are comfort to only a select few, but those few revere it. One’s out now, his footsteps muffled in the unevenly worn carpet. There’s no point to his walk besides the ritual of habit. Tonight the moonlight is soft and the breeze softer, the exhale of one more day. However this hall is dark and still, save for one set of windows. The drapes are undone from their usual quick, elegant knots and hang, heavy and tired. Like the walk, this too is a ritual. But unlike it, there is meaning behind the action. Light bathes the shallow niche, and a few hours from midnight would fill it exactly. A marble statue glows faintly, her eyes closed and smiling like a dreamer. She’s a companion when the nights get long, and the walker worries she becomes lonely too. There’s little cause for his concern; he wasn’t the one to open the curtains and let her feel the moonlight again. Every night the headmaster visits, a few hours before the man here now. He dusts, and fusses, and when the world is looking away he runs a calloused hand over her cold cheek, hoping for those few seconds it can again hold the warmth of life. And every night as he leaves the bronze plaque shines, never showing the many hands to pass over its carved lettering: Mrs. Trixtin, deeply loved and never forgotten. Never had any writing been truer.

The headmaster came hours ago and left the doors unlocked behind him. The hall may be closed, but the walker is always welcome.

“D’yah still think she would’ve liked me?” The boy speaks without an actual sound, no force to carry through an incorporeal throat. This is also a habit, the reassurance that someone he’s never met would have liked him, someone would have cared had they the time. 

“For the last time, Tom, yes.” The walker's voice, at least, breaks the quiet. “She would have liked you when you’re not being a nuisance during my classes. I still can’t speak on her love of pranks, but I like to think she wouldn’t encourage you.”

“That’s stupid, Mr. I-Know-Everything Blade. Just ‘cause you're both old doesn’t mean she hates pranks like you.” He huffs, something impressive considering the lack of air to move. “I’m Mrs. Trixten and I think Tommy should be given more people to influence for pranks” he sings in a high voice, throwing his head into and through the statue bust.

“I told you not to do that, Tom. Go have fun with the decorative armor stands, but not her.” He waves his hand through the air at Tom, more for the meaning of the motion than the hope of moving him. “It’s disrespectful.” He’d given up years ago on beating some respect into the kids head, and there was no else to see him or hear him use the wrong title anyway. It really was his fault for letting the students get away with Professor Blade, now Tom thought nicknames were fair game. At least only the headmaster knew he liked it, and even that was used as light blackmail. He really shouldn’t have done a demonstration for the week on Renaissance Duels.

“Maybe she’s still around here, and I just haven’t looked hard enough. It would be nice to have… someone else.” He gets what the kid means. They have each other, but it’s not the same. Tom wants someone dead, just like him. The kid had left the paralyzing confusion and fear behind, but having to exist without a single person that can feel the things you can is the worst kind of loneliness.

“I’m sorry, Tommy. I’ve been here so long, and even in the weeks after she was lost I saw nothing. I’ll admit I wasn’t looking very hard, I hadn’t known she could return until I met you. I’ll tell you immediately if I do, though.” 

“Thanks, Techno.” Tommy really meant it, there was no other time he’d use Techno’s real name. There was no better way to express the bond between a lost kid and the only person he could reach to, the only person who could ever help him. The cracks in Tommy’s brave face always appeared during these brief moments of vulnerability, and there was little either could do. So the living man and dead boy stood side by side watching the moon shift across the statue's features, each wondering how it felt to be loved so much.

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[mariatesstruther]

ellie and baby miller both doing the “dang mom said no, lets ask dad” thing, except it’s “dang my dad said no, let me go ask his brother” because tommy lets ellie get away with everything and joel lets baby miller get away with everything

neither of them ask tess or maria because they’re too smart for that obviously

[novaplush]

I think I'm a starkin... Specifically a baby star. Just stabilizing out of the protostar phase. I can feel it, the warmth of my core and the soft embrace of space. This kintype is definitely somewhat stylized (I'll rb the art that prompted this full realization in a second) but wow...

[the-stag-and-the-dog]

I would totally play a hannibal game that’s just a silly cooking game at first but gradually there are more and more hints to where the meat came from and eventually there’s a special minigame where you have to go hunt for/harvest the meat

or a fishing game for Will that would be vv silly as well :33