#i need to sleep. and process this

[constantlyquestioningg]

i finished. catching up. ha. haha.

[cali-kabi]

IM LITERRALY SO HAPPY AND HYPER NOW OMG OMG SO MUCH KIRBY NEWS KIRBY FORGOTTEN LAND NEWS AND KIRBY AIR RIDERS AAAAAAAAAAA!!!! Here’s some screenshots I took ;w; enjoy I’m so excited <3

[linipik]

Hunk with Samoan-style tattoos, they feel very at home in him ☀️

[duusheen]

Haunted

[collophora]

@devinsisland apocalypse AUs, but it's just chill gardening between two raids outside to scavenge seeds

[reijndeers]

hømecoming

if he doesn’t put in a good performance i want compensation.

also necessary flower language mention: i chose irises, where each of the 3 petals represent faith, hope and valour (which we need right now.) it also symbolises new beginnings (obvious) and is where the fleur-de-lis symbol ⚜️ comes from, and i'll be dead if i stop comparing my captain to royalty so 🫡

[suntails]

🐙⚔️

[spooky-activity]

Probably just mangling the body to be SURE she was dead, and not doing a cannibalism. Right? Right???

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[ulteri0rm0tives]

It's every iteration.

It's every iteration of V that will always find Johnny. Every iteration of V that Johnny grows to care about. It's every iteration of each other, in every universe, that will always find each other. They'll always become inseparable, tied together in unfathomable ways. Ways they could never truly unravel from each other in the end, no matter the end.

They'll always be destined for one another. No matter what face is worn. No matter what universe. No matter what, they're always meant to be. No matter what, the stars will always align for them, just to come crashing down from the sky.

[logicpng]

this was meant to be a silly concept sketch that got mildly overproduced for the sake of putting some concepts on paper

it's still fun to make so i'll take it though

[ Description in ALT ]

[pensherosjourney]

jo scores the game tying goal with 8 seconds left! ft. love, jubilation, and vengeance | sabres @ avs, 3 january 2025

[muxas-world2]

Workplace so weird they will have a 30yerld being all besti besti whit 20s and sobay ex son (they look so cute)

[assmaster-8000]

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒐 ✧

✧ Regret

✧ Rememberance

✧ Reunion

✧

All men are equal in death. To Clotho, such is their reigning tenet.

And to Clotho, a man like them sheds no tear for the departed. A necromancer need not fear death, for it is a cycle devouring upon itself, and they are the ringmaster of this primal instinct. As in— need, should, must. One must not fear, one must not ache or pine or rage. A snake is still a snake. Death is still a wild animal. Show your soft palm within the ribcage of your fist, and it will not yield to you. Clotho, for all their cool expertise, knows this through trial and error.

All men are equal in death. So this mantra becomes their epitaph for every sentiment buried under the grave of their tongue.

It's a corpse beneath the floorboards; this memory. The tremble in their fingers - the shortness of breath. Their prized coherence pooling out their ears like brains on a sidewalk. Black is all they've known the world to be, but this time it is blue. Saliva spilling past the shore of her lips. Piercing red lightning streaking through the sky of her eyes. She does not respond when they shake her. By God— what have you done?

All men are equal. Their mother was no man, no monster. Mother, simple and sweet, was cruel enough to damn her. As they were.

Their tears come soft on the linen of her robes. She is softer still. The used crowd of spellbooks and artifacts and alchemical instruments behind them laugh hollow at the display. Wire is taut, so is cloth. Neither will hold them now, after destroying the muscle that stretched to cradle their wretched self. So they bind her in her day shroud. And they bury her in the belly of the primordial Mother.

On her grave, they plant a singular Asphodel. Their one specimen.

And when they shakily kneel back to look down at the mount of soil, for a moment - just a moment, their nails slip back beneath the dirt. Back to where home was.

A moment was all it took. Soon as it comes, they rip it out her shabby resting grounds and lay it on their crown. That brain-shaped gilded mausoleum of theirs. So it has remained all this while - so has she, with that memory just as equal as a dead man.

But you know they never stay where they're supposed to for long.

In the land of the dead, asphodels are for the gray in between. They are the sustenance of the dead. They are my regrets, following you to the grave. O, Mother. You raised a walking corpse. As long as I hold you in my heart, the grave goes where I go; and dead men tell no tales, so... I love you. Isn't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

[sheepalmighty]

Painted a battle between Maximilian Thermidor and Wynne D Fanchon because this mission is first and foremost a conflict between their opposing ideologies so it made sense to. Also, I may have spent all of my time fighting for dear life against Shinkai so this is how it went every time.

Arteria Cranium itself is so significant that I wanted to paint it as prominent and powerful as it felt upon first seeing it - it was like stepping into a holy place. Along with the buildup to its importance and the stark contrast of this mission's track compared to everything before it it has an atmosphere that is so unique and impactful I won't ever forget it. From's really good with letting areas and moments speak for themselves.

Also wanted to share this attempt at getting reference pictures because I thought it was funny. I caught the moment when Thermidor shot me - kinda rude considering he was supposed to be busy with Wynne, but what would you expect from him honestly (I got Shinkai stuck somewhere so he wouldn't bother me).

[ryuki-draws]

I miss my son, Tails

[carlyraejepsans]

Halfway to the sofa, they stopped, making a small sound like a grumble of annoyance. For a second, the red glow in their eye grew faint. "Sleep," they rasped out in a low, halting whisper, "I saved you an ache in the neck." It took him a second to register that the kid wasn't talking to him. Mostly 'cause Frisk didn't speak. To him. Or ever.

Sans wakes up late into the night and sees something he shouldn't have.