#i dig this too much

[hinamie]

atla!au designs part 3 !! one of these things is uh. not like the others

first year trio gojo/choso/nanami

[sporeclan]

< Previous | First | Next >

Finally, we officially have SporeClan's first newborn kitten!!!

[shepscapades]

This one was a freaking doozy. If I keep talking i think i may be in trouble

[concord-and-cliches]

dogs don't make for the most helpful cooking tutors but they're still better than an absent parent (also do Not let your irl dogs do this) [id in alt and under the cut, sketches also under the cut]

[id: A Pokemon Scarlet and Violet fancomic featuring a young Arven and Maschiff. Panel One: A close-up of an onion on a cutting board and an open book. From off-panel, Arven says, "'Mince the onion…'" Panel Two: Holding a knife and looking despondently at the open book, Arven says, "…I dunno how to do that." Panel Three: Trying to seem confident, Arven lifts his head and says, "W-well… No point in doing nothing!" Panel Four: Arven stands on a stool against the counter, saying, "I'll just…" By the stool, Maschiff is sleeping. Panel Five: Arven exclaims, "Ah!" and stumbles, shaking the stool. Maschiff lifts its head with a "?"

Panel Six: Arven holds his finger with a pained expression and tears welling up in his eyes, mumbling, "Ow, ow, ow…" Panel Seven: Arven falls over, revealing a bloody finger. Startled, he lets out an "Uh--!" Panel Eight: With a "Crash!", Arven lands on the ground. Panel Nine: Arven, sitting on the floor and looking even more in pain, stays silent. Panel 10-12: Arven looks over to the exit of the kitchen, almost hopeful, towards a room labelled "Rm. 113 P.T. Lab." No response from the lab is forthcoming.

Panel 13-14: Arven becomes distressed, and begins crying. Panel 15: Maschiff jumps towards Arven and begins to lick his face with a concerned "Chf!" Panel 16: Arven, now smiling but still crying, hugs Maschiff and says, "Haha, it's okay, buddy. I'm okay." Panel 17: Hugging Maschiff closer, Arven asks, "…Do you know how to mince an onion, buddy?" Panel 18: Maschiff walks towards a bag of onions on the ground, which prompts Arven into saying, "Huh?" Panel 19: Maschiff holds on onion in his mouth. Arven, from off-panel, says, "Um."

Panel 20: Maschiff begins to aggressively maul the onion with a "Grrgraaaa" Panel 21: Arven looks blankly towards Maschiff. Panel 22: Arven says, "…I dunno how to do that." /end ID]

[pansyfemme]

one of the boy names my parents were considering for me was ‘ignatz’ after the rat who throws bricks in the 1910s comic strip krazy kat and this horrified me as a child but now im an adult and trans its lowkey kinda cute.. you could go by ‘iggy’ or ‘nat’.. im happy with jude but tbh i shouldn’t have doubted their vision

[mildmayfoxe]

messed around with digital collage today instead of printing

[accioepiphany]

UMMMM

[malaierba]

that one post that's like "don't call me if you need help to bury a body i'll help you run from the law, fake your death, clean up the murder scene so they cant trace it back to you etc etc but please don't ask me to dig a hole that sounds so hard" reminds me SO MUCH of:

Toshiro

Laishuro

Edit: Found it

[uy8hg-art]

Rule Breakers Unconventional Mining Buddies

[kedreeva]

This little shit set up camp in the unused baby jail pen. Bold as anything, she's directly under me during this video, I literally had my phone a foot or so away from her. After watching her drink from the bird waterer and eat from their food bowl, I caught and removed her.

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[pallanophblargh]

Color! Composition still wonky, but this was done mainly to see how I liked the colors and such. I can reposition and resize birds/leaves/etc another time. And get a decent proper hexagon drawn up.

This has been an exercise in not letting perfection hold me back. I have to start getting back into art somehow, right?

[shkika]

I'm literally buzzing with excitement for the Wind comic thing :> I've been coming up with my own theories of what it could hold, and even making a video based on those theories! Tho, it'll take some time to finish XD It's like...A big project. Love your works!

This ask made me so happy I blacked out and this appeared on my screen.

I have the comic planned and sketched out with placeholder dialogue between the rodent sisters I just need to finalize it when I can!

[cumbutton]

ack its been a while huh? woe oc comic be upon ye

[areyousanta]

First off: I absolutely love your art of Ed. It literally fuels me and I’m obsessed!

Second: you’ve become the reason why I want a barbed wire tattoo

He'll yeah man you get that barbed wire tattoo!

Also aksjsk you're so sweet thank you 💛💛

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 184

“Well damn.” 

Jason wrenched his gaze from the mess of red and green spattered across the room, searching for the source of the voice. His head hurt, he wanted his Dad. He wanted Bruce. He… his head hurt. His everything hurt. 

“Honestly, didn’t expect them to find another half-breed. Didn’t think there was another halfa out there…”  

He tore his gaze away from the floor- when had it gotten there- finally finding the other… person? The person giving him an empty smile through some sort of muzzle and missing an entire arm. Well, he couldn’t judge, he’d torn his nails off while digging out of his grave before… this. 

“Hey, kid, don’t sweat it, it’ll grow back,” the man apparently noticed where he was staring, shoulder twitching as he shrugged and more green pouring out. Jason couldn’t stop staring, eyes slipping from the growing pool to the rest of the chains apparently keeping the person on that side of the… room? Cage? Cell? 

“Shit, hey, kid, kid, don’t cry, uh, fuck, shh, kid don’t cry-” the person made a noise, some sort of hum or croon that caused him to relax. To his already brain-damaged confusion. “C’mere, away from the door now, shh…” 

Oh, when had he started to move? It was like he blinked and was stumbling away towards the chained person, practically tripping over a limb before the person managed to catch him. “Ope, oh you’re just a little baby-” a hand, clawed, carefully ran through his hair, tucking him against a rumbling chest that nearly made him tear up again. He wanted Bruce. 

“It’s alright kid, shh, they won’t get you,” the man rumbled, everything about him green to his rapidly closing eyes. Pale skin like a corpse, black scales like rot, hair white like snow, all stained green with blood.  “They’d have to kill me again for that.”