#i've been working on my oc au for it

[coolcattime]

I unfortunately made a joke post and am now really like "Capsize/Furia in a toxic yuri way though"

But by toxic yuri way I do mean this bit from the Your Turn to Die manga when Hoemi threatens to explode Reko but in the most lesbian way possible

[blackkatdraws2]

Blank Scripts AU OCs / Self Insert participants!!

Hey guys!! Just giving you a quick update that I'm still working on it! :3

I know some people are still waiting for their characters to be drawn and this is just an announcement to tell you guys that I'm still actively working on them! But I'm also working on other things [both IRL and my own projects] so progress is really slow uwaah 〒▽〒

Expect the illustrations to come out slowly! Please be patient with me!! 🙏 [Expected time for another illustration to come out is 1 month for each finished drawing.]

I've also been working on an animation too. Achromatic Loop AU viewers where you at?

↓ [LIST OF USERS I MADE THIS ANNOUNCEMENT FOR!!] ↓

@ask-the-gold-bear / @reader-writer-combo / @iyuray / @thenamesmobu / @test-url-please-ignore / @adventurecrimez / @tumbling-turmoil / @idunnowhattowriteheretbh / @commit-behicular-manslaughter / @felonius-glitch / @toon-topaz / @villiun / @thechaotichorselord / @altyem / @stylus427 / @employee052 / @how-is-this-taken / @juaneloriginal / @limelemonleaf / @wingedecho / @nineparlor69

I haven't forgotten about you guys <3 don't worry!!

[cherrirui-official]

Sorry I've been gone for pretty much all month, the ancient ones awakened from their slumber and only I could defeat them. Anyways Happy Pride! Yippee!!

[slurpyboii]

Some doodles I didn't feel like making individual posts for

[biblically-accurate-dca]

day 22: maid dress/sailor uniform ♡

i already drew a sailor uniform so here's a maid dress !! would you let them into your home (to clean it)

[spoiledskullz]

Draws them as ponies again ☁️💎

[swiftmitsu]

"MOSS"

“A once normal Sans, named Moss, is covered in vines and overrun with nature. Despite his apathetic and curious nature, Moss is patient, protective, and has a strong sense of justice. His attacks may be weaker than normal Sans, but his defense is higher due to the vines that wrap around his skeleton. Moss's memory has been affected by the growth on the vines, but he remains constantly curious and eager to relearn about the world around him.”

(below is just more facts about him)

The Lil Facts About Him:

his attacks are weaker than normal sans, unable to pull out his gaster blasters…. unless—

he doesnt feel pain/really freaking high pain tolerance, thats why he’d body block a lot of attacks when trying to protect someone

most of the underground had become a more humid and warm place

yet he still wears his jacket at all times since he doesn’t like showing the vines/moss that’s grown on him

though strangely enough, he doesnt care too much for remembering who he was, just wanting to relearn the way of the world

thats why he’s constantly curious, wanting to know and relearn about everything

also because of his lack of feeling any pain, he’d probably come back to a knife stuck in his head and he wouldn’t know till Papyrus told him

protective to those that are weakened

e.g if he saw someone with full health getting attacked, he’d watch them without interfering. but as it goes on and the other was really weakened, only then would he step in and protect them due to an underlying sense of justice

Doesnt know boundaries, sometimes getting too close or asking way too personal questions when he gets too curious

Doesnt know the difference between good and bad (or at least thinks everyone he meets is good)

The only one with the tiniest bit of hope. That’s why he’s so eager to relearn everything. He wishes to save the monsters somehow…

Little guy (he’s big), just trying his best

[demigod-of-the-agni]

A DEVIL REBORN

Happy Halloween!!! A detailed ID will be placed under the cut (it's close to being 1K i could literally post this to Ao3)

p1. ड्याम्म (dyamma) - Nepali for "(feeling) full", "hitting something"

p3. Chutiya - Hindi for "idiot", "moron" and other related insults

p5. க்ரீச் (kreech) - Tamil onomatopoeia describing scraping/screeching sounds

[Extended Image ID: DYAMMA! Slamming his hands on a table, Achanba Okram finds himself in the darkness of his laboratory. He is wearing black clothes and a white lab coat on top, and has a bowl cut with rectangular glasses.

His thoughts whirl within boxes that are coloured gold and are outlined with red; they put a voice to the uneasy feelings Okram knows are stirring inside of him. The thought boxes read:

With Pavitr gone, I finally have time to string my thoughts together. Half-drowned answers bleed out of my pores. Coalescing like some great, abysmal creature of unknown origin.

Bracing his hands against the table, Okram is acutely aware of his body, of the gaping holes in his back that bubble with demonic energy. His thoughts narrate, My body quakes when I begin to question, wracked with paranoia. With dread, as if the idea of what I had to face was unbearable.

The holes in back — four of them, spaced evenly from each other — begin to ooze golden liquid, hot like fire and viscous like tar.

And yet, Okram thinks, I felt it all the same: that crawling, scintillating horror of my reality. Of my tainted flesh and blood. My being here is the work of demonic forces.

Golden arms, fluid yet bony, powered by some otherworldly thing, unravel from the void in his back. They flounder and expand around him, filling the lab with a cold glow. The fingers are tipped with talons, and, if he looked hard enough, Okram swears they are edged with blood.

I died years ago, Okram thinks. I lost my humanity to the fire of the devil's madness. Thus, the question remains: what is the future of Achanba Okram, a DEVIL REBORN?

The lights of the lab suddenly brighten, and Okram hears him before he sees him. His arms register the presence of the other person, immediately unraveling and slipping out of reality. Just outside, Pavitr Prabhakar's voice calls, "HEY, DOCTOR OKRAM! Sorry I'm late! Traffic was abysmal today."

Pavitr's entrance catches Okram by surprise, and he stutters out, "PAVITR?! You- ah- you have one of your shifts today?"

His thoughts reprimand him, You CHUTIYA! Pavitr always has his shifts on Tuesdays!

Pavitr is unaware of Okram's turmoil, sauntering into the laboratory while hefting up a white plastic bag. He's wearing a black and white flannel shirt, and he has circular earrings. Pavitr's eyes are trained on the bag in his hand. He answers Okram's question with, "Yeah, I do. I, uh, got a little hungry along the way (I'm always so hungry)." Pavitr whispers the last part as he lifts the bag up. He continues, "so I went and bought some vada pav, and—"

He suddenly pauses, his eyes locking onto Okram. He can't tell what is going beyond Pavitr's eyes, but the other man's analysing gaze unnerves Okram to a degree beyond description.

(In Pavitr's POV: his Spider-Sense was just triggered. Red and gold squiggly lines emanate from and surround his head in a halo.)

Pavitr lowers the bag slightly in concern. "Uhm," Pavitr says "are you okay, Doctor?"

Dread and fear floods Okram's system. Suddenly he is hyperaware of everything in the room, including the golden arm that has sprouted from his back and was lying on the workbench behind him, right in Pavitr's line of sight.

Play dumb! Okram's mind screams at him. Accordingly, Okram replies, a tad too tightly, "Of course I am, Pavitr! Why wouldn't I be?"

KREECH. The golden arm scrapes its taloned fingers across the table, no doubt giving away its location.

Okram chuckles nervously, sweating almost immediately, at which his mind howls, Not that dumb!

Pavitr narrows his eyes at Okram and at the golden arm on the workbench. "Are those...demonic arms?" he asks Okram, a shadow crossing his face.

(In Pavitr's POV: In the back of his mind, Pavitr sees a vague and faded image forming in response to seeing the arms. He remembers Doctor Octopus, the man with two extra sets of arms who had attacked him many years ago; he was one of the first villains Pavitr fought as Spider-Man. But... Doctor Octopus died a long time ago. Perhaps...?)

"Oh, Doctor..."

Pavitr's gaze softens as he asks, "Are you being haunted by demons? Have you been attacked by them? Why didn't you tell me? I'm so sorry this has been happening to you. I can't imagine how stressful this is for you." A moment, and then, "Do you want to talk about?"

Okram hides his face in his hands, quickly responding, "No, I'm alright, Pavitr."

Pavitr walks forward, placing his bag down and reaching down to place a reassuring hand on Okram's shoulder. "But, Doctor, men of your generation have ignored their mental health for too long."

"Yes, I know," Okram sighs.

"It'll be okay, Doctor," Pavitr promises, "we can figure something out!"

"And what?" Okram asks somewhat sarcastically. "You will be here with me 'every step of the way'?"

"One hundred percent!" Pavitr says.

Behind them, one of Okram's demonic arms reaches out to peer at Pavitr and Okram; if an arm could be happy, it certainly was. The arm is seemingly pleased with Pavitr's helpful and understanding nature. /.End ID]

[64-jungle-planks]

Night at the Museum: Redesigning Characters (Bonus)

Character profile: Napoléon "Le Petit Caporal" Bonaparte

This character is based off of and takes inspiration from the historical Napoleon Bonaparte.

Real Name: Napoléon Bonaparte

Nickname and Meaning: Le Petit Caporal - A term of affection from his soldiers

Age: 40-41 (Late 1809, early 1810)

Time Period: Napoléonic era frace

Family: Josephine de Beauharnais (ex-wife), Marie Louise (wife)+ seven siblings none of which were brought back besides Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte- his nephew

(Headcanons under the cut)

Based on/taken from History:

Pompous

Very overly confident.

Egotistical. He hasn’t seen his own downfall yet and feels he can win more.

On December 2, 1805, in his greatest victory, he defeated the combined Austrian and Russian armies in the Battle of Austerlitz.

signed treaties that created the Grand Duchy of Warsaw

Late 1809, early 1810, Napoléon’s roughly around 40-41

Still loves Josephine, but planning to divorce.

Upset she wasn’t remade alongside him

From Napoléon's memory, Joseph Bonaparte is king of Spain, but isn’t doing well.

Stupidly cute smile

+ Sensitive + Honest + Intelligent - Nepotist - Aggressive - Forgets other people have feelings

My own silly headcanons:

Has put on weight, he’s not used to fighting with it.

Napoléon likes to steal pop-it’s and water wigglers from the gift shop. He always has to have something in his hands to fidget with- normally it’s his gloves or a snuff box or taking apart and cleaning his pistol. Now that he has access to modern fidgets, he likes to taking the green ones.

He also really likes clicking mechanical pencils

He loves inventions that make life better in little ways. Canning food was invented in his life (he’s actually the one who offered a prize of 12,000 francs to improve the food preservation methods that existed at the time which led to canned food being invented) but there was no simple way to open the cans. He loves can openers- taking them with the promise of returning them to just take apart and put back together.

If your gossiping, he obviously eavesdrops. Napoléon cans and will butt into your conversation about someone and listen like you’re saying the most interesting thing in the world. If he can’t come over to you, he will do the lead paint stare at you.

Still acts like he’s emperor.

Originally thought the average height of humans gained a lot of height. He was envious up until he learned whoever created his mold got his height wrong and he’s 5’2”, not 5’7”, then, Napoléon was just pisssed off.

He loves to infodump about his victories and will call over his men to help act them out, sneaking small fibs in to make himself look even better than he already does. If you ask him about his losses, you’ll only get a stare in return and a quick “Non”. (Credit @frombottlealleytotheharbor)

“Hey, do you remember [insert battle he lost]? What was it like?” “…Non.” “But… weren’t you there?” He starts walking away. “Non.” “But—“ “NON!”

He gets into fights with Al because Al is someone who clearly doesn’t respect him. The Capone trio love to tease him - especially Frank and Al. Ralph watches with a grin, which is somehow even more infuriating to Napoléon.

Sometimes getting out of his box, he looks like a well-loved stuffed animal. It takes him a moment to get himself together.

Loves watching true crime and reality TV shows. Isn’t the biggest fan of Horror movies.

Somehow got his hands on a cigarette, absolutely died after one puff. Napoléon threw it onto the ground and stomped off coughing, vowing to never do it again.

He’s so very envious that Al and Ralph had even a bit of time with their sons while they were alive. François Charles was born after the time he was made, and it makes Napoléon feel so homesick and want his kid- one that he doesn’t even know. He absolutely adores Louis Napoleon, who he only met a few times.

Loves ABBA, originally he disliked, but he's grown to like it now that he knows the meaning

I gave him his Laurel wreath just because I thought they were cool and also to show that he's still very pompous and full of himself.

Unfortunately no doodles, I haven't had time!

Étienne Champenois belongs to @lidensword and Gustave Bréant belongs to @all-yn-oween

Frank, Al, Ralph

[throughpatchesofviolet]

To Sail Forbidden Seas ~ Chapter 1

Synopsis: After a long voyage, Yi Sang and Heathcliff seek shelter.

Ship: The Adventure of Wuthering Heights

Words: ~2330

Warnings: alcohol; a physical altercation between characters; food

“It’s not much further, now,” Yi Sang said, glancing over his shoulder at his companion, who ambled along behind him, his head hung low as he clutched at the ragged cloak concealing his shoulders.

For a moment, Yi Sang’s gaze lingered on his friend’s hand, eyes silently tracing the tattoos inked into his scarred flesh, then he shook himself, turning to point at an inn down the road.

“There it is—Thames Landing … you’ll be safe there.”

His partner slowly lifted his head, eyes gleaming beneath his hood as he quietly studied the building Yi Sang indicated—it was a quaint, two-story structure, built from shabby wooden planks. The slanted roof had been bleached by the sun, and a makeshift fence, cobbled together from bits of driftwood, encircled the building. It was simple, almost rustic, in presentation.

“This place … good. Has charm.” The man spoke slowly, his sentences short, but each word was firm. Still, his brow furrowed, and he cast a questioning glance towards Yi Sang. “Safe … you sure?”

Yi Sang nodded, smiling as he motioned for his companion to follow him down the road. “At ease, my friend … I promise you Mycroft Holmes won’t lambast you with questions—aside from those pertaining to your stay, of course.”

The pair halted in front of the inn, and the man lifted his gaze to the sign hanging above the door. Even in the semi-darkness, he could make out a series of white letters that spelled out the inn’s name, the words painted to resemble a bridge arching over a dark band of water.

“Now, Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly, drawing his companion’s attention back to him, “while I can guarantee the Holmes siblings won’t object to you residing here, I cannot say the same for their other patrons—many of them are unscrupulous fellows, you see … the shameless, deceitful sort who’d sell you out in a heartbeat.”

His friend nodded solemnly. “Then I stay under cloak. Until you sort things out.”

Yi Sang smiled sadly, his fingers settling on the door handle. “Yes … I do believe that’s for the best.”

Taking a deep breath, Yi Sang threw the door open, and Heathcliff blinked as warm, golden light spilled onto the street. Hushed conversations tickled Heathcliff’s ears, and he reached to pull his hood over his eyes before following Yi Sang inside, quietly studying his surroundings from beneath his cloak. Wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing ample light for those below, and a massive fire blazed in the hearth built into the far wall. A large, bubbling kettle was suspended above the flame, the steam rising from the cauldron carrying a mouthwatering aroma that reached Heathcliff’s nostrils from the doorway, causing his stomach to growl.

“This way.” Yi Sang motioned for Heathcliff to follow as he approached the bar, flagging down the man behind the counter. “Mycroft! Can I trouble you for a moment?”

The bartender glanced up from the glass he was drying, his face brightening when he recognized Yi Sang. “Well, well … if it isn’t the first mate of the Pequod, himself! To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure’s all mine—though, you could raise a toast to Captain Ishmael, if you so desired.” Yi Sang smiled, settling onto a barstool as Heathcliff melted into the corner. “She led us on yet another successful hunt.”

“Ah … Sherry did mention something about her going after another Whale …” Mycroft set the glass in front of Yi Sang, then reached beneath the counter for a bottle of whiskey, proceeding to pour the sailor a drink. “Now, what exactly can I get for you?”

“Well … my companion and I were looking to room here for the evening …”

Heathcliff exhaled slowly, tuning out the conversation as he scanned the inn—men crowded around large, rickety tables scattered throughout the dining room, swapping stories and downing tankards of liquor. Oftentimes, the amber liquid missed its mark, sloshing onto the floor, instead.

The harpooneer snorted, and was turning his gaze back towards the bar when something—nay, someone—caught his eye: a woman, the hem of her periwinkle gown trailing along the soiled floorboards, circled the tables, unimpeded by the sailors stumbling around her. She cut through the intoxicated mob like a ship through the Waves, her tawny hair streaming behind her as she weaved between toppled stools and unconscious men, scooping up dirty dishes as she passed.

Something about the way she carried herself intrigued Heathcliff—despite the chaos unfolding around her, she remained calm and collected, tending to her clients’ every need without complaint.

He shrank further into the corner as she drew near, his eyes dropping to the floor until she’d swept past. As her footsteps faded, Heathcliff slowly lifted his head, staring after her.

“Oi! You, there! You’re not ogling that lass, are you?”

Heathcliff flinched, shrinking back into the corner as one of the sailors staggered to his feet, scowling at the harpooneer. “Did not mean to stare,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” the man growled, lurching towards Heathcliff, who drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But you were, weren’t you? Bet you’re thinkin’ you have a shot with her, too.”

“Was not,” Heathcliff muttered, pressing his back against the wall as the man stumbled closer.

“What was that?” The sailor came to a stop a few feet away from the harpooneer, his face set in an ugly sneer. “Speak up, you bastard—no one can understand you when you’re mumbling.”

Heathcliff grit his teeth. “Said, ‘was not.’ You need your ears checked.”

“You think you’re clever, eh? You wouldn’t be talkin’ like that if you knew who I was.”

“Do not care who you are. Go away. Want to be alone.”

“Do you? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started makin’ eyes at the lass … now you’ve gotta pay the price.”

The sailor lunged forward with surprising speed, and Heathcliff raised an arm, barely blocking his fist. Swearing, the man struck out with his free hand, clawing at the edge of Heathcliff’s cloak, and the harpooneer hissed, attempting to squirm away, but it was no use—his assailant caught hold of his robe, grinning as he tore it from Heathcliff’s shoulders.

But his smile faded as the cloak fluttered to the floor, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the tattoos inked on Heathcliff’s skin. “By the Wing’s … you’re … you’re …”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the inn as everyone stared at Heathcliff—at the markings covering every inch of his exposed flesh.

“You’re from … the Middle …” The sailor stumbled backwards, clasping his hands before starting to beg. “P-please … spare me—I didn’t mean any of it, I swear!”

Heathcliff lowered his head. “Tattoos from Middle, yes. But I … I not with them. Not anymore.”

The sailor blinked, his brow furrowing. Then, he straightened, his sneer returning. “You left the Middle? Isn’t that some kind of taboo?”

Heathcliff said nothing, and the man laughed as whispers passed through the crowd.

“Silence speaks louder than words, or so they say,” he said, grinning. “So, you ran out on the Middle, fully knowing the consequences … I wonder, just how much are they offerin’ for you?”

The sailor glanced at the men behind him, still smiling.

“Perhaps we should see about turning you in—we could use some extra cash, right boys?”

Murmurs of agreement echoed behind him, and the sailor, emboldened, grabbed Heathcliff’s wrist.

“Right, then … I’m goin’ to need your name—I’ll be givin’ it to the Middle, you know.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

The man blinked as a voice rang out from across the room, and Heathcliff lifted his head, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a woman striding towards them, her eyes flashing.

“Sh-Sherry …” the sailor stammered, stumbling backward. “I-I’ve gotta do this, love—if the Middle were to find out your brother was hiding this man, they’d kill him …”

“The Middle isn’t going to find out we’re serving this gentleman,” the woman replied icily. “You aren’t going to breathe a word about him to anyone. Right?”

“B-but … this is to pro—”

“Right?”

The man flinched as she cut him off, eyes dropping to his feet. “Right.”

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, nodding towards the door. “Now, leave, Victor. You’ve harassed my clients enough for one evening, and I shan’t tolerate your indecency a moment longer.”

“Sherry, I—”

“Leave. Now.”

Her words were like thunder, ringing clearly through the silent inn, and a shiver shot up Heathcliff’s spine as the sailor whimpered, slinking away. The woman watched him leave, then turned to the throng of men behind her, scowling.

“As for the rest of you … I trust you know what’ll happen if I find you’ve sold this man out?”

A chorus of soft “ayes” rippled through the crowd, and she nodded.

“Good—as you were, gentlemen.”

With that, the men exchanged glances, some smiling, others shaking their heads, before resuming their conversations. The woman knelt down, retrieving Heathcliff’s cloak from the floor and gently dusting it off before draping it over his shoulders.

“My sincerest apologies, sir … I do hope your stay hasn’t been spoiled by Victor’s poor conduct.”

Heathcliff blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from her face—she was even prettier up close than she had been from afar, with sharp, angular eyes whose color reminded him of the sea at midday.

“Your eyes … like ocean.” He said finally, his words soft. “Very pretty.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”

Warmth bloomed in Heathcliff’s chest as the woman fussed with his cloak, straightening it so his tattoos were hidden. After a moment, she stepped back, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“Now, then … how may I serve you, this evening?”

Again, Heathcliff blinked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbled a response. “Came for room. Yi Sang … said it was safe here. Said Holmes siblings … accept me. As guest.”

“Ah … then you’ll need to speak to my brother, Mycroft.” She nodded towards the bar. “He’ll see to preparing your lodgings.”

“Yi Sang said … he’d handle it.” Heathcliff murmured, shuffling back into the corner. “So, I wait.”

“Is that so?” the woman frowned, brow furrowing. “Well, if you have any trouble, do let me know—I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your stay is a pleasant one.”

She offered him a curtsy, then melted back into the crowd, leaving Heathcliff staring after her.

“So … my sister’s caught your eye, has she?”

The harpooneer started, turning his head to find the bartender studying him curiously—only then did Heathcliff notice his sharp, angular eyes. “Your eyes … shaped like hers.”

Mycroft nodded, setting down the glass he was drying. “That’s about the only feature we share, it seems … well, aside from one peculiar faculty unique to our family, that is.”

“Heathcliff …” Yi Sang spoke softly, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “I … I failed you. I shouldn’t have allowed that man to expose you, and yet …”

“You have not failed me,” Heathcliff said. “You promised me a safe place, and this place … is safe. Even after seeing my tattoos, I am welcomed. Like you promised.”

Yi Sang was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “Mycroft has generously arranged for us to reside in separate lodgings—and he’s providing dinner, on the house.”

“My sister will see to it you’re fed,” Mycroft said, chuckling softly. “Your friend’s in for quite the treat, Yi Sang … Sherry’s serving her finest chowder, tonight.”

“Please inform her I’ll be dining in my quarters.”

“Of course … and how about you, sir?” Mycroft addressed Heathcliff, raising an eyebrow.

“Eat in room, like Yi Sang.”

“Very well, then.” Reaching beneath the counter, Mycroft produced a pair of brass keys, setting them on the counter. “Yi Sang, you’ll be staying in room 212—it’s the third door on the right. And, Heathcliff, you’ll be in room 201—first door on the left after you climb the stairs.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” Yi Sang murmured, his fingers curling around one of the keys. “Your hospitality is sincerely appreciated.”

“As is your business,” the bartender replied, winking. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen … and do let either Sherry or I know if you need anything.”

He bowed as they turned, making their way across the crowded dining hall. Heathcliff kept close to Yi Sang, eyeing the drunken mob warily as they approached the stairs.

“Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly as they climbed the creaking steps, “about what Mycroft said, before … you’d best tread with caution.”

The harpooneer blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The way you were looking at Sherry … if you truly do fancy her, you need to be careful. That man from earlier—the one who attacked you—he’s one of her admirers. And they don’t take kindly to competition from strangers, as you’ve no doubt come to realize yourself.”

“Was not staring for that reason,” Heathcliff muttered. “She stood out. Could not look away.”

Yi Sang sighed. “She does tend to have that effect … just be careful, alright?”

Heathcliff nodded as they reached the second-floor landing—ahead of them stretched a short corridor with four doors on each side, and they paused, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Your room’s here,” Yi Sang said, motioning towards the door nearest to them. “If you need anything, you can always—”

“Call on you. I remember.” Heathcliff gently nudged his friend forward. “But I will not bother you. Not tonight. You need rest.”

Yi Sang stared at him for a moment, then his gaze softened as a smile spread over his face. “I shall get on that, then … and I am wishing you pleasant dreams, as well.”

Turning on his heel, Yi Sang vanished into the shadows, and Heathcliff released a slow sigh, his shoulders sagging as he unlocked the door leading to his chambers.

[temeyes]

feeling a bit sick tonight, can't really draw but i can OC LORE DUMP YOU INSTEAD LMAO

[yeetdasweet]

Oh my sweet boy, my sweet, beautiful boy.

[nimudae]

Let me tell you about the little AU I've been spinning in my head like a microwave these last couple months! (with alt text commentary)

Luffy finds Law's seraph clone and decides to take the little baby murder bird with him (and names him Hoshio (or Starry if you're on the camp that thinks Traffy>Torao)) because who wouldn't want a mini Torao? Law, it's Law

Law haaates the whole situation and doesn't trust or want the kid anywhere near them or their crews when he finds out, which clashes with Luffy being in complete Cora-san mode since day 1

I call them the Lawlu Sky Family

[spotsupstuff]

Cap's got a new voice claim! feat. a tiny bit of Sparrows n her's unchanged vc because 1. it's cute to hear them together and 2. I snorted. The vibes are so different

[songs: So Familiar by Jean Castel and Driving Myself Home by Rose Betts]

[elizabethrobertajones]

I am sad that we don't have the massive old people scales like Temulun or the Oronir storyteller for our WoLs. Let me give the men the scale porn stachs! And massive scales for all Au Ra!

Au Ra getting more and more scaled as they get older until Grandma is just chilling halfway up a warm brick wall :D

[russeliarat]

Artdump 1/?

So yeah I’m sick recently and juggling college work like my life depends on it, so here’s some older art I did to fill the gaps of the 6ish months I’ve spent not showing my art but improving over the entirety of that time. This is mostly the traditional art I’ve done back in like May back when I wasn’t sketching on random pieces of paper like I am ow (rip sketchbook). Sorry if half of this is super grainy, I’m testing a new way to put stuff onto tumblr.

Starting with the more colourful ones coz if you're anything like me, you have a short attention span and like bright colours :]