#i loveeeee drawing him

[transdemon]

I wanna eat your Gojo art. He looks incredibly edible (compliment)

he's so squishy....

....just a mochi to me 😭🥺🩷🩵

[alltimewhat]

work doodles of my guy reza ^_^

[stefisdoingthings]

silence

also this is from Wolfwood's POV (in case it isn't clear) i have 0 normal thoughts (every song ever is VW)

[skunkes]

got ya

[beetlerings]

I don’t like this that much but whateverrr we ball

[frascospecimen]

I missed him…boober

[cathalbravecog]

first thing i drew on my new tablet to test it out is the tv beast themselves

[karisuracha]

My Melody's beloved knight 🌷🍓

[arcanesarts]

draw

[kcciny]

I just realized I can draw camazotz going feral….

[rystiel]

HAPPY CASTIEL ANGEL OF THE LORD DAY. HAPPY CASIVERSARY

[mr-aftons-rotting-pussy]

im gonna say im sorry at the start of this post but im really REALLY deeply not sorry at all, sorry i literally draw william afton like a severely butch woman you must understand i primarily draw men who are women 🙏 <- weird femboy butch lover

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

dead fish eyes meets crazy eyes :33 oughhhhhh i adore them they’re so mentally ill

[sobeksewerrat]

less people should draw sinner Adam as a hot guy and more people should draw sinner Adam as a dirty, grimy caveman who definitely hasn't showered in two weeks and is not doing okay

[hilplusterrorss]

[Images description: four screenshot redraws of the PBS Kids show WordGirl, with the original screenshots included for comparison. In the first, Becky is frowning as Victoria Best hugs her around the shoulder. Both of their designs are altered slightly: Becky’s skin is darker and her hair is curly, and she has yellow star-shaped earrings; Victoria’s hair is longer and hangs loose and curly with visible brown roots, and she has blue nail polish that matches the button-down shirt she wears under her sweater.

In the second drawing, Becky, Scoops, and Violet are high-fiving. Scoops looks the same, except his hair is slightly longer and his jacket is long-sleeved. Becky has a knee brace, and Violet’s hair is puffier, with bangs that hide her eyes, and she has a flower in her hair and a paint smear on her overalls dress.

In the third drawing, Tobey is holding Becky’s hand in a left-handed handshake and holding up a book in his right hand, which he grins at delightedly, while Becky looks on in confusion. Tobey is drawn with curly hair, square glasses, and large teeth, and is chubby.

In the last drawing, Scoops is perched on WordGirl’s back and looking around her shoulder to talk to her, while she stares forward, looking mildly surprised. WordGirl’s costume has significant changes, though it keeps the colors, the belt, and the yellow cape. The helmet is smaller and doesn’t cover her hair, and she has a transparent yellow eye shield. Instead of pants, her outfit has a skirt over dark red pants, and red boots are included. /End description]

collection of my screenshot redraws :3 these are very fun, honestly send some screenshots to me and i might do em

[luveline]

hey love!!!! i hope you are doing well 🫶🫶🫶 if you feel so inclined could we get another coworker frenemies james?? i loveeeee him ☹️

thank u for requesting 💌 fem, 1k

James can’t fucking stand you, but in a fun way. You feel worse about him, he’s sure. He’s sitting in his car waiting for you to get out of yours, pretending to look for something rather than have to share the elevator up to the office with you. 

He hasn’t figured out a good comeback yet for what you’d said about his rugby pictures yesterday as you left, and he hates when you win, because you smile all smug and he finds it adorable. You don’t deserve a smile like that, you’re insipid, and annoying, and you take a full day to reply to his emails. 

He digs his hand into the door handle and pushes it out. The winter cold hits him hard and immediate, makes him wish he wore his thick coat with the hood even if Remus says it makes him look like he works in the deep arctic. 

There’s less slow on the ground than there has been for the last few days, snowdrift melting in the day and turning to ice at night when the temperature drops. There’s no sun out yet to warm him. He shoves his hands into his pocket and begins a careful trek from the parking lot to the stairs leading up to the office. 

You’re taking steps slow as his further in. He’d hoped you’d be gone. He’s stupid for not looking, now you both have to do an awkward shuffle where the other can see, what if he trips? You aren’t looking his way, but he’s sure it would draw your attention. If he trips in front of you he might quit, he—

You’re about two steps away from the flat entrance to the office building when you slip. 

In honesty, it's not as bad a fall as it could’ve been, your foot slips on the step and your knee hits the stone, then the other, your hand tight on the handrail but unable to save you. Your gasp is horrible, tight and too quiet, considering the surprise. 

James pauses. 

He could pretend he didn’t see. But if you turn at any point and see him, you’ll know he’s witnessed it, and that’ll be ten times as awkward as if he were to just keep on walking. 

He can’t walk past you. He never could. You don’t get along, but James isn’t the type of guy who can leave someone kneeling on the wet ground. 

Foregoing caution, James hurries across the last stretch of slushied ground to grab you. He feels cruel at first, his hand under your armpits and yanking you up, but the ice is dead slippery and you can’t find purchase, letting out another strange gasp as he rights you.

You turn your face to identify your saviour. 

“Oh,” you say, breathing funny, “of course.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” you ask.  

“Are you okay?” he frowns at your frown, though they’re of two different calibres. You look angry. James is concerned. 

“What do you think, James?” 

You yank out of his arms and turn away from him. 

He shouldn’t have grabbed you without asking. He probably hurt you a little with the force of it, but he’d thought picking you up would be best. Less humiliating, perhaps. 

You sniffle. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. He wishes he could say he spoke gently, but your annoyance churns his own, and he’s starting to sound mad too. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Listen, sit down. You have a long coat, just sit for a second.” 

Your shoulders tighten, but you sweep your coat under your thighs and struggle to sit down on one of the icy steps. He can imagine the cold of it under your bum and your palms as you begin to fold in on yourself, and it’s only then he notices the blood on your knees. “Oh,” he says. (And later, years in the future, he might admit to sounding heartbroken). “Your knees.” 

You pull at your skin. “Awesome. That’s really cool.” 

You sound upset. James finds he can’t ignore that, either. He feels like a dick standing over you and so he crouches, and that feels worse, but he stays like that, facing across from you, hand begging to touch your poor scratched knees. Your eyes widen ever so slightly in response, their waterlines heavy with tears, shimmery and waiting to fall. 

“The last time I fell up here I thought I broke my arm.” 

A tear breaks free from your lashes, streaking heavy and slow down your cheek. “What?” 

“I smashed my arm coming down. It hurt for days, and I had a bruise in a line.” He raises his arm to draw a line across his sleeve. “Right here.” 

“I thought you were better coordinated than that.” 

“That’s not what you said yesterday about my photos,” he reminds you. 

You laugh under your breath. A second tear tips down the other cheek. 

“It’s easily done. The ice is pretty bad.” 

“Don’t patronise me,” you say. Your voice is missing its usual disdain. You just sound sad. 

“I’m not patronising you! You just take everything I say the wrong way.” 

“Then don’t say it the wrong way.” 

“Maybe we should go inside and find the first aid kit. How does it feel?” 

“I slipped,” you say hotly. “I’m fine.” 

Then why are you crying? Floods of tears on your cheeks, your hot breath a cloud that kisses your nose. If it were Remus sitting here in tears, James would already be hugging him. If it were Sirius, he’d have patted him on the back by now. It is so, so odd to see you crying. So weird. It makes his chest twist. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine! Just go upstairs and tell everybody already.” 

“Tell them what?” 

“I don’t know. That I’m a baby.” 

He tilts his head, can’t help it, leaning in mildly too close. “You’re a baby?” he asks, fondness leaking into his tone. “Because you fell? Everybody falls.” 

“‘Cos I’m crying,” you mumble. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone. Then you’ll tell everybody I cried when I nearly broke my arm, it’s a lose-lose situation.” 

He’s stupid for talking to you like this. Like you’re friends, and like you can stand to be near him. You don’t look disgusted as his finger brushes your leg, just below your sore cut, and you’re not mad anymore. The ferocity drains from your face and leaves behind a sniffly, embarrassed frown. 

“Won’t tell anyone,” he says quietly.

“Thank you.” 

James didn’t fall up the stairs the last time it snowed. He didn’t hurt his arm or cry, he’s too remarkably coordinated for that. He lied, and he’ll lie to Remus when he asks why it took you both as long as it did to get upstairs. You slipped and he helped you. There were no heart-hurting tears. It’s a secret he doesn’t mind keeping for you.