#do not use for AI

[isosceles-is-never-here]

"Any more questions?.. No?.. Well that's the end of class." - teacher Poor Danny. It's hard to be a good student when you're half dead.

my contribution for ch.3 IYGABAB

[turtleshell-doodles]

È̸̡̲l̶͚̀̒e̷̼̚ͅá̵̞n̸͔̼̂o̵̤̐͛r̵̅͆

I do not give my consent for my art or writing to be used to train artificial intelligence apps, bots, or anything else.

[reba-ceres]

"Kairi"

2015, Paint Tool SAI

A very old art piece at this point, I am still very proud of what I managed to make with the limited tools and skill I had at the time.

[jaguarsoup]

drew a ‘pod on the whiteboard yesterday :3

I love isopods so much. Rhrhrggrhrh little guys. My friends never stop hearing about them because I show them a picture and go “armadillidium vulgare T+ albino :3” every ten minutes

[prettygoodscience]

Lance: Balan Wonderworld

Woohoo! I love financial failure! The plot is mid but the men are fetching!

Anywhoo, a sketch I did of Lance because I've been doodling him a lot lately and love him very much. I think the plot did him dirty with him just being "omg negativity bad" and I personally prefer to portray him as someone who sees value in teaching people of the world's dangers and evils for their safety? idk. I care him.

[mariopokemonuniverse]

Royal Terns with gulls in the background at Playa del Rey, Los Angeles on 1/3/2025

[aperfectidiot]

Small sketch I decided to do <3 (WIP)

[basiliskdraws]

Vampire cowboy.

[wisteriawater]

I'm not happy with him but I'm afraid of messing up what I do like so...after god knows how long rotting on my computer, here is my blorbo.

[isosceles-is-never-here]

"Do my teeth look sharper to you?" -Danny (IYGABAB ch.2)

[turtleshell-doodles]

//This was originally gonna be my April drawing, but uh. I got ahead of myself. Have a Salome. She's a Magnus Archives OC and avatar/monster of the Lonely. To read about her, here's a link to a few mini fics I've written.

I do not give my consent for my art or writing to be used to train artificial intelligence apps, bots, or anything else.

[reba-ceres]

Sailor Moon Redraw

I once joined in on the meme where everyone was redrawing this one screen shot back in 2021.

[bixels]

As gen-AI becomes more normalized (Chappell Roan encouraging it, grifters on the rise, young artists using it), I wanna express how I will never turn to it because it fundamentally bores me to my core. There is no reason for me to want to use gen-AI because I will never want to give up my autonomy in creating art. I never want to become reliant on an inhuman object for expression, least of all if that object is created and controlled by tech companies. I draw not because I want a drawing but because I love the process of drawing. So even in a future where everyone’s accepted it, I’m never gonna sway on this.

[jaguarsoup]

Wip for a moot :3

art is mine, oc + references belong to beecha

[monsoon-of-art]

[fog-and-isolation]

Do not use to train or feed AI --- "Conflict" Date of event: 2nd February, 2010 Read also on AO3

Its hands felt wrong as they touched and caressed Salome's gaunt face. They didn't feel anything like her Michael's–warm and soft with calluses on his fingers from papercuts he had gotten working at the Magnus Institute. These hands were different: Massive and cold, spindly and rocky and stiff and leathery, with none of the gentle affection that Michael Shelley had shown her, and instead a slow, hungry sort of curiosity, as if carefully trying to identify a potential meal by touch alone. “I… know you…” it murmured. There was a hint of anger in its voice. “I know you. Your face…” It curled a long, bony finger beneath her eye, the deadly sharp end drawing blood. “Is a wonderful dream I long to forget.”

     The creature withdrew a clawed hand as if to prepare to slice the All-Alone's throat to the bone. Salome flinched, closing her eyes against the madness of the Distortion and its corridors, as if denying the twisted reality in those impossible mazes would make it any less true.

     “Ha…” Salome felt the monster tuck a lock of white hair behind her ear. “Are you… frightened of me, little mourning dove?”

     Most of Salome's emotions and feelings, as carefully guarded as they were, had been ripped out of her when she became the All-Alone. All but two: fear and grief.

     “Yes,” Salome whispered. She didn't open her eyes. She feared if she did, she would find her parents’ twisted corpses there waiting for her, despite being long digested by the being she found herself trapped inside of. “I… I'm afraid of you.”

     There was a smile, wide and grotesque, in the creature's voice when it next spoke. “Good, that's good… Oh, he loved you, you know…” The creature cooed and caressed Salome's face and hair. “He loved you, and you're afraid of me~”

     It suddenly released Salome's face with a snarl and began circling her, its stretched and rail-thin form towering over her even as it bent and contorted and twisted in on itself to fit inside the room. Finally, the All-Alone opened her eyes again. Her vision was blurred, and she couldn't tell how much was the madness of the Spiral and how much of it was her own tears. “You took him from me,” she rasped.

     “Yes, I did. Of course, if it weren't for Gertrude Robinson, your Michael would still be alive, and you and I would be having a very different conversation.” It stopped its circling and twisted its upper body around to peer down at Salome. “Oh… are you crying, mourning dove?” It reached out and rubbed beneath her eye with the heel of its palm. “So frightened, poor, fragile thing…”

     “Why won't you kill me?” Salome whispered.

     “Because as much as I despise being tied to you through Michael Shelley , I don't want to kill you,” the Distortion hissed in Salome's ear. It was then that she realized, through her haze, that the creature wasn't speaking. She didn't think it could speak, not here in its corridors. She didn't know how she was understanding its thoughts and intent, but she was. She didn't realize that it was because of the simple fact that she was inside the Spiral, inside the entity that gave the Distortion its form and its power. And the Distortion wanted her to hear it.

     A weight fell over Salome, her grief resurfacing again. She sank to her knees, and even that was somehow listless. She didn't have the strength to hold herself. Her arms remained heavy and limp by her sides. Her eyes fell closed again, and Michael crouched beside her. Its presence felt so much like his , but somehow still so wrong.

     It wrapped its arms around her and pulled her into its sharp, bony lap, rocking back and forth and stroking her hair in some awful mockery of comfort. “You're confused…” the creature cooed. Its voice came from every direction that was and every direction that wasn't. “ You don't know what to feel, do you, poor thing… Ah, what a vision you and I must make, hmm? Whatever you are and whatever I am…”

     Salome curled into herself. “Kill me,” she pleaded in a weak voice, “Please, please just kill me. ”

     “I already told you,” the Distortion said, voice suddenly sharp as one of its huge hands gripped Salome's chin, “I don't want to.”

     Then, without hesitation or fanfare, it kissed her, but it wasn't right. It didn't seem to know what it was doing, just angrily mashing their mouths together to see what worked. Salome didn't fight it. Her arms stayed limp at her sides as the creature that took her Michael's name and identity slowly figured out how to kiss her. It was more aggressive than any kiss from her Michael; even in their more intense moments together, Michael Shelley’s touch had always been gentle. Not like this horrible, rail-thin thing smashing its mouth against hers. But then, when it seemed to figure it out, it made a sound that was not unlike the small, happy way Michael Shelley would sigh against Salome’s lips as they kissed. The Distortion took a deep breath, its too-wide mouth curled into a smile that Salome could almost describe as goofy as its long, many-jointed arms wrapped tighter around her. It made that soft little sound of contentment again, before growling in disappointment when Salome suddenly backed out of its grip, her body suddenly breaking apart and coming back together like disturbed fog. She sat a few feet away from the Distortion, hugging her knees to her chest.

     “What is it, mourning dove?” it hissed.

     “Did he suffer?”

     The question hung in the air. “Yes,” the Distortion admitted calmly. Its hands, swollen and sharp, reached out and caressed Salome’s sides. “You don’t really want to know the details, though, do you? You don’t want to know the way he cried and screamed as everything that made him who he was was torn bodily from him… You don’t want to know how badly he wanted to hold you one last time, to kiss you, to marry you—”

     “Enough,” Salome interjects. “That’s enough. I don’t– I don’t want to hear this. You–” Salome looked at the thing. Really looked at it. Here, in its corridors, this was its truest form. She knew that. The Distortion was thin and limp. It didn’t move so much as it shifted, like a shattered mirror clumsily repaired reflecting something that might have once been Michael Shelley. Up close, she could barely look at the thing without feeling a dizzying migraine thrumming in her skull. She closed her eyes again and hid her face in her bony knees. When she spoke, she didn’t sound angry; she sounded tired. “You’re not him.”

     “I’m the closest thing to him you’re ever going to get again.”

     The creature curled one of its hands—spiky, swollen, and wrong—around the back of Salome’s head and pulled it to rest against its limp chest. “You killed him,” she murmured. “You killed all of them.”

     A clawed hand stroked Salome’s two-toned hair. “Something that was not me killed them… I am… something different now. Something new.”

     Salome shook her head, suddenly limp with exhaustion. “It… doesn’t matter…”

     “That’s it, that’s it…” The Distortion cooed, rocking Salome back and forth again. “Good little mourning dove, pretty little songbird… You’re all mine now, you know… Mine to hold and kiss and play with…”

     “...Yes…” Salome whispered. “I… I know.”

--

Read more on Tumblr (Salome, Michael, Peter, etc.)

Read more (Camille, Eleanor, Elias, Jonah, etc.)

@zeelzebub @justanotherbattyhere (Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!)