#i'm so proud of it

[nekrosmos]

First piece of 2025 and it's a mob boss Nikolai AU, inspired by both @panchulien and @on-a-lucky-tide (this fic and this fic respectively)

[sorryformybadenglish]

Miles Morales anyone? Part 2

I freaking love it

Part one is doing great as well ⤵️⤵️

[mintythecup]

ALBUS YORK. MY FAV CHARACTER IN THE SERIES (devlin is the 2nd)

Also in bvz, hipswitch is also one of my favorites too, mahatma/Attila has an amazing write up story and character himself, DAMN I LOVE IT ALL JRBTJBSKFJSKFJJDJFJF

Character belongs to: @goodboyaudios

But also fanart! HEBRKFJSKBFKEJFJJRJF

[psitaniumpsichosis]

[Redraw from part of this post by @32bitterra]

So I actually redrew these almost a month ago, oops. I plan on eventually finishing my redraw of the "crowbar" piece as well!

Featuring Aquatonauts Raz and Sasha! Even though his family is very in tune with their hydrokinesis, Raz can't shake the fear from his prerecognition visions. He has a tendency to scramble up the nearest person-- usually Sasha-- for safety when he feels afraid.

Sasha practically helped raise Raz from a baby, so he tries not to complain. He just puts up with his clingy son.

[bobthejokester]

Og

Also

[lupiinist]

heeeey tumblr, have a little shortfic jegulus in this infernal hot night:

"Regulus is having dreams again.

Dreams he didn't have ever since he was fifteen; ever since his brother ran away from home.

He doesn't dream often.

Didn't have nightmares when his father died, or when his mother died. He didn't have nightmares when he was all but nineteen, all out in the world, completely alone if not for his friends, freshly transitioned, and going to college.

So it was unusual, after so long, that he would come back to having the same dreams again."

[seashoes]

I really like my final project for my computer art class.

[parasprite]

Benson wasn’t fucking clueless. He knew, by now, that this was more than just a simple fascination with an interesting coworker. But his peace of mind depended upon him ignoring a lot of uncomfortable truths.

Or: 5 moments from Benson and Randy's weird, sad year of working together.

[heeseungiez]

collecting photocards is such an expensive hobby why do i do this to myself

[forklift-certified-catgirl]

X3

[drfrogphd]

Rabbit Hole 🐇🍩

[astroaeroace]

We made it to 20k on the Detective AU Catholic Maxim fic, babyyyy

So, have a title drop and a snippet.

Here's a little sneak peak at Heaven is Not Fit to House a Love Like You and I

"Ah, my friend, forgive me," Alexander says as he turns back to the table, grabbing the bottle to pour them both another round. Maxim should refuse any more; clearly its effects have been felt enough. But he stays silent. "I've been so busy poking at the mystery of your name I've neglected the man himself."

He pulls out his chair, lounging across the small table from Maxim. The glow of the candlelight catches his profile, painting the strong lines of his nose and jaw in gold, and Maxim cannot decide if he should be grateful for the table that separates them or resentful of its intrusion. Such this the nature of Alexander — always too temptingly close and yet so far.

"Please," Alexander gestures, "tell me, how fares the medical ward?"

The faint smile slips from Maxim's lips. He tilts the glass in his hand as memories flicker behind his eyes like the ripples in his drink.

The shriek of a startled Afghan child as she stumbles into the line of fire, the crack and smoke of rifles as they take fire blind and break her body, leaving nothing but splashes of red on the sand and stone of Kabul. Blue skies reflected in the glassy stare of a young recruit as he stares heavenward before Maxim's blood-stained hands close his eyes forever. Tendrils of steam curling up from the incision he cuts into a patient's body, warming his his cold-stiff hands over the wound in a cloud of delectable, guilty warmth. Blood spraying over his face and hands and chest, coating him so completely he can no longer tell where he stops and the carnage continues, no way to know where blood and bodies end.

Perhaps they never do.

He takes another numbing sip of whiskey and forces himself to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"Nothing to say that's suitable for polite company, I'm afraid."

"Ah." Alexander's voice is tight with forced nonchalance. "Well. War is hell, as they say."

"No."

A flicker of motion on the edge of his vision, the slight shift as Alexander turns his head to face him fully, tells Maxim that despite the near-whisper, Alexander had heard him well enough.

"No," Maxim repeats louder. "War is war and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is worse."

Alexander's gaze presses into him, his concern almost tangible in the way he searches Maxim's face. Despite the weight of it, his voice is gentle when he speaks.

"And what makes you say that, my friend?"

"Tell me," Maxim lifts his eyes to meet Alexander's, "who goes to Hell?"

Alexander's stare grows even heavier, his brow furrowing lightly as his eyes flick down to the cross and saintly medallion around Maxim's neck.

"Sinners, I believe."

"Precisely. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell." Maxim downs his still mostly full glass of whiskey in one swig, slamming the empty cup down on the table with a harsh clack. "I cannot say the same of war."

An uneasy beat passes between them. Alexander sits in stunned silence, something unreadable but clearly unsettled in his expression and Maxim shuts his eyes against the shame that lances through his chest. What cruelty of him, to dim his friend's light with his own troubles. Even more unforgivable with one as heavenly as Alexander.

"Apologies, my friend." He stands carefully, sliding his chair back into place. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be good company at the moment. I should leave you —"

Alexander rises sharply, catching him by the arm with a grip almost painfully tight. On instinct, Maxim whirls around, tensed to strike.

"Stay."

There's something new in Alexander's tone, a desperation seldom if ever heard before. Even in the most dire of circumstances, the most treacherous of battles, Maxim has never heard his voice tremble like it does now. His eyes dart over Maxim's face with a strange wildness, their angelic gold tarnished by the glaze of fear that covers them.

"I —" Alexander loosens his hold on Maxim's arm, "I want you to stay."

Maxim's resolve falters, his protest sounding weak even to his own ears.

"You deserve far better than my mood at the moment."

"Oh, Maxim," Alexander sighs fondly, "even in the foulest of moods, you could never be anything but the best of company."

A single stride from Alexander crosses the distance between them, brings them flush enough their chests are but a breath apart.

This close, Maxim cannot ignore the scant inch or two Alexander has on him. There is something fitting in it, something right in the idea that to look into the face of the man before him he must look heavenward. Surely the benevolence that flows so easily from Alexander's lips could only be gifted from above.

"Please," Alexander murmurs, his breath fanning lightly over Maxim's face, "stay."

Alexander could make mountains move with a word and Maxim's heart is not made of stone.

He crumbles.

[rondoel]

Guys go watch my epic space diving video 👏

[youtube link]

[duckapus]

Finally succumbing to its injuries, a Black Oak falls, crushing many of its fellows and a few inmates under its corpse. On its chest, bladed limbs dripping with green blood, is a mass of dark code, glowing orange eyes already seeking its next target.

Whirlpool's been having a bit of a mixed experience with the invasion. On one hand, it was clearly being targeted, its control-freak of a creator no doubt ordering the invaders to capture it and Abyssal so it could restore their connection. On the other hand, most of them had no idea what it looked like or could do, so it's been getting mistaken for one of the "enhanced" inmates about half the time.

A spike of distress not its own pierces through its thoughts, and it rapidly shifts its gaze upwards to where the Abyss and its new groupies are no doubt being confronted, "Cuuuuzzziiiinnn!"

Though it and Abyssal had been freed from the eternal Nothingness by the light of Sora's Keyblade, and thus also severed from any connection they might have had with each other if they'd thought to look for it, they were still Offshoots cut from the same code, so sometimes things would slip through, strong emotions in particular. In this specific instance, it had been a mix of rage, sorrow, grief and disgust wrapped tightly around a core of sheer terror, most likely on someone else's behalf.

Even before it's fully assessed all this already it's on the move, shifting to its cute and fluffy form for greater speed and agility and continuing to carve down anyone in its path. Even if their relationship is a bit strained and Abyssal isn't sure what to make of Whirlpool even at the best of times, she's still family. And if it's learned anything from Sora and Stitch and the rest, it's that you do anything for family if they need you.

(another thing it'd learned is that you choose your family. The Abyss very firmly Does Not Count, and won't until it gets its act together and makes things right with the rest of them. Which, given the situation, likely won't be today)

Still, even with the extra speed being a weird fuzzy mammalian alien instead of a massive shadow slug gave it, it still feels it isn't going fast enough to get there in time to help. Plus most of the action seems to be up in the air, and neither of its forms can fly. It can't even just ignore gravity like it's seen other programs do, which is annoying.

It can't help but feel that there's something it's missing, some opportunity just out of reach. An extension of the strange sense of familiarity it got when the Black Arms started falling out of a blood-red sky...

Something...Calls to me...

That... that didn't feel like its thoughts. And yet, it also did. It feels a stirring, deep in its code, like something's trying to push its way out, and it reaches down to meet it.

{ShadHedg.SOUL_STAT: RESTORED. Execute_ProjEcho.MOD Y/N?}

Huh, that's new. It selects yes as it uses a Black Wing as a springboard onto one of the floating stretches of road that horned guy (why does it hate him so much anyway?) keeps throwing around everywhere-

-and he surges forward the moment he lands, air shoes igniting before they even scrape the pavement.

Shadow confusedly looks himself over in the few moments of straightaway, "what is this power?"

He quickly shakes it off, resolving to assess his code later. What was a daunting, convoluted climb for his base form would no doubt prove a mere obstacle course for the Ultimate Lifeform.

"Watch yourself, Abyss. I'm coming for you."

[captainpissofff]

Son of the devil.

[truelittleratboy]

LOOK AT IT

Thank you :3