#got out and did things yesterday

[fereldanwench]

its been a struggle sunday for sure today

[bilaudad]

wing stuff!

experimenting with a more cartoon style, idk what i'm doing loll

tagging: @goodomensafterdark <3

[slavhew]

DO YA THINGKU

for a twitter trend of redrawing miku as album covers!! i wanted to do one of my favorite single from gorillaz. Cover-accurate ver + closeups:

this was definitely the biggest thing ive drawn this year!! and a good chunk of it on stream. thank you everyone who tuned in!! it was loads more fun to make in company :]

[vickyt-mv]

quick lon'qu for his birthday 🗡️🗡️

[azaracyy]

a lesson on good karma digimon survive week 2024 day 4: supporting characters

[a-s-levynn]

And I'm still full of the love you want

[findafight]

Y'all fucking looooove "media analysis" until that media analysis means understanding Vickie is bi through the means of "she had a boyfriend but they broke up, and now she is flirting with Robin, who is established to have a crush on her." Like ooooh I wonder what the lesbian being flirted with by her crush who her bff has been telling he suspects likes girls and just broke up with her boyfriend means!!

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.

[mc-tummy-blur]

It probably gets lonely up there

Click for better quality

Check my pinned post to see links on how you can help the people in Palestine

[chloecherrysip]

Mario watching his and Luigi's commercial in Punch-Out Pizzeria

[c-kiddo]

I love tgirl cad and if you ever post any drawings of her i would be very happy and look at them literally for hours

oh aw :'-) i maybe have before a couple times but it was a while ago but i willl try to post current drawings o her tonight 😁 !!!!

[introspectivememories]

four months into getting to know each other, shouto finds him by touya-nii's shrine. his little brother gently sits down beside him and offers a small prayer.

"yumi-nee-san," natsuo wonders if his little brother will ever drop the second honorific, "said you were the closest to him," shouto says quietly.

after all these years and the use of past tense still makes his heart break. 'you are the closest to him' he wants to correct but that wouldn't make sense anymore. touya-nii hasn't been talked about in the present tense since before middle school. does shouto even remember a time before nii-san's dea-, disappearance?

"yeah, i was," he says, eyes never leaving the photo. it's the one nii-san took for sixth-grade picture day. kaa-san had got him all dressed up and he had hated it. somedays he thinks if he looks close enough, he'll see the displeased pout on nii-san face. "why?"

his little brother says nothing for a long time, back ramrod straight. natsuo has no idea what's going on in that head of his. shouto has so few tells that he's practically a blank slate. natsuo hates his father.

then slowly and so quietly, he has to strain his ears to catch it, shouto stammers out, "do-, do you think he would have liked me?"

natsuo's immediate reaction is to say 'yes'. yes, of course, touya-nii would've loved you. yes, of course, touya-nii would've crossed the heavens for you. yes, of course, he would've loved you shouto; you're his precious younger brother.

but he remembers the way nii-san used to spit out shouto's name when he was a kid. the way his brother's mouth wrapped around it, the face he made, like he had just eaten something disgusting. he remembers the way touya-nii had become almost crazed by the end, hellbent on proving himself the rightful heir to their shitty father's legacy. he remembers the way touya-nii had said, "i just need to prove that i'm better than him,"; the 'him' said with such bitterness and contempt.

he knows instantly that touya-nii would not have liked shouto. that this house and his father would have twisted any ounce of love, nii-san would've held towards shouto, into jealousy and hatred.

(this house may have ruined all of them but it only ever broke two of them.)

natsuo can't say any of that to shouto. his kind little brother who forgave him for not being there. his amazing little brother who falls in love with every cat he sees. his wonderful little brother who has a wickedly dry sense of humor. his soft baby brother who loves him and yumi-nee with a passion. his tender-hearted baby brother who still worries if his long-gone older brother would've liked him.

no, natsuo can't tell shouto that nii-san wouldn't have like him. shouto will internalize it like he does with everything else that hurts him. and there is already so much that hurts shouto, he will not add to that list. his baby brother smiles these days, nothing big like his green-haired friend, but quiet, lovely, ones all the same. shouto talks more these days. they have dinner together when natsuo is home. his baby brother laughs now. it's a miracle like nothing else in this world.

shouto is the best thing to come out of their house and natsuo will die before he ever hurts his little brother. so instead, he curls an arm around shouto's shoulders and pulls him into a loose side-hug.

"of course!" he lies cheerfully, ignoring the ache in his chest, "touya-nii would've loved you. you're his — and our —precious little brother after all. there is no universe in which he wouldn't have loved you."

the tips of his baby brother's ears go red and his pleased little answering smile makes the ache of lie go away. natsuo will tell a thousand more lies if it means shouto never stops smiling like that.

[e-adlirez]

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

12 Geronimos and a tiny little Benji :D

I didn’t think I’d be able to finish it in two days, but here we are :D a little project where I interpreted the artstyle designs of twelve Geronimos in my artstyle :D

We have in order

2000-2005 G

TV show G

my G :3

@skrunklymice’s G

@toastypencils’s G

@2deadkat’s G

@ratonahat’s G

@thisispoggers’s G and Benjamin

@glitchygorge’s G

@agcnt3’s G

@soda-gremlin’s G

and @alloutblue’s G :D

Behold, closeups :D Merry Christmas, Geronimo Stilton fandom

[kirby-the-gorb]

[sanddef]

Interlude | May as Rebirth

1100 words

It was almost May in Camelot, the weather was warming and the ebbs of wind were just beginning to cease. Flowers were blooming by the creek, water lilies, and daffodillies, and Mordred sucked a drop of blood from his finger. He placed the roses he picked onto a nearby grave, and kept walking. It was bizarre, mourning those he knew would hate that attention. Mordred could almost see Gaheris’ grimace, Gareth’s wet eyes, Agravaine’s empty stare.

‘They said your name a million times at the wake.’ Mordred told him, ‘Isn’t that what you always wanted? To be celebrated? You should have seen how the king held you. You’d think you were his very own son.’

Of course, Agravain didn’t respond. He didn’t snark, didn’t even humor him. He never will again.

‘Well fuck you too.’

It was almost May in Camelot, and the staff usually would be making preparations in a few weeks. Between May Day and birthdays to celebrate (though never Mordred’s, admitting the date of his birth only ever got him sympathetic looks and hard-to-answer questions) it seemed May was one big celebration. Of course, to any common knight, any of these supposed holidays were just pretense. Who gave a shit about Gawain’s birthday other than people trying to curry favor? By the end, knights could hardly tell you the day of the week if they were even sober enough to speak. The staff would be exhausted.

Mordred stopped walking, shook his head, and continued. He quickly steered his thoughts away from Gareth. Gareth, who always got him something for his birthday, despite Mordred’s wishes. He was utterly gone by May 31st last year, somewhere between the busyness and the merriment he had forgotten, or just forgone, moderation. Mordred had simply put him to bed, leaving quickly and letting his gentlest brother forget that he had borne witness to his momentary degeneration.

‘I knew no one could be perfect.’ He told no one at all. ‘You’ve always told me that.’

It was always about Gawain, but still.

Almost May in Camelot and where were all the people? The hall seemed empty, only a few straggling knights and servants. Lucan didn’t meet his eyes when Mordred waved him over, his face neutral and steady, he poured him a cup of wine. Mordred considered dropping the chalice, let him not react then, as wine spilled across the floor and over them both, let him wash out some red stains of his own. At least he still had his brother with him.

Gawain would be coming back soon.

‘God dammit.’

Mordred took another long drink.

He didn't remember Lot's death, being much too young at the time, but his brothers spoke about him like he hung the moon and stars.

“Don't be like that, Mordred.” Gaheris had told him one night, his gaze tracing the scar on Mordred's forehead, “He went to war for you.”

Mordred was harsh, he knew he was harsh, and he didn’t need everyone telling him all the time. In his opinion, he couldn’t be the worst of his brothers, how could he? Yes, their deeds far surpassed his own, but so did many of the ones they swept under the rug, overlooked, or wore as a public confessional if they were clever enough. Besides, Gaheris had funny ideas about a parent's love. Mordred had to discount his opinion long ago. Mother's death was regrettable, but Mordred followed everyone's example and moved forward swiftly. Why waste time thinking about something so unpleasant?

“Why waste time indeed,” Mordred muttered, leaning back on his throne.

“Ah, my lord?” Sir Brunor was looking uncharacteristically nervous, “Mordred?”

“I didn't hear you enter.”

I didn't invite you in.

“I just want to offer my condolences.” Brunor sat beside him, again uninvited, “I know it's hard. Losing Sir Galahad and then your brothers and the king.”

Mordred grunted, gesturing for Lucan to refill his cup. Why even bring up Galahad? It felt like eons since he had last seen that poor doomed youth. He had died, apparently wondrously and prettily. Holy. They used much nicer words for it than ‘easily.’ Mordred had imagined it dozens of times, his final breath of earthly oxygen as his hands grasped for what he had chosen above all else. All that effort in blocking Galahad out of his mind, and Brunor had to remind him.

“My father is dead. My brother too.” Brunor took Mordred's hand in his, “I know how it feels.”

“These things happen.”

“Doesn't mean we can't avenge them.” There was that cold fire in his eyes that got Mordred's attention when Brunor had first arrived at Camelot, “You know that. It was murder.”

“Yes. Yes, if I learn anything you'll be the first to know.” Mordred tilted his head upwards, examining the higher stonework of the walls, stone put in place only decades ago yet never touched by human hands. He was starting to feel dizzy when he moved too fast. “For now I need your service, Brunor. We’re at war.”

And where would Mordred be without his supporters? If there was one thing he was glad to have learned at this farce of a court, it was how to perform.

“Yes of course.” Brunor straightened, “There’s a fleet coming from the south. Just say the word.”

“From France?”

“We think so.”

“You know so. We can’t afford to allow enemies any closer.” He especially can’t afford for it to be Arthur. Mordred was confident that even if he did return, there were enough people on the court on his side to end the battle early. He hadn’t done the exact math yet, but even a handful of kings had plenty of men at their disposal. Even so, it would be simpler if Arthur just didn’t come back.

“Shall I prepare an offensive?”

“A man after my own heart.” Mordred smiled, crooked two fingers, and beckoned him forward, “Come here, Brunor.”

He didn’t miss Brunor’s sigh of relief as he kneeled before the throne and accepted Mordred’s kiss gratefully. He really was such a good marshal, fearing him just enough. He was a good friend too, when Mordred still considered himself worthy of such privileges. At least the loyalty remained.

Keep him close in hand and he’ll never learn what happened to Dinadan.

‘I should really get married.’

Mordred knew just the person, but for now, Brunor was set to sail for battle tomorrow and Mordred might as well give him a few more hours of his time.

Hopefully, Gawain and Arthur were already dead. If they weren’t, Mordred prayed they’d die easily.

[myassbrokethefall]

IT'S SCULLY'S 60TH BIRTHDAY (made by Julie Ng)

happy 60 years of being the only one thinking it through 👑