#idk if that tag is right. hopefully it is

[0bscureart]

Please, don't look at me like that

[pixlokita]

It’s been like 80 years but finally….Page 34

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[pixlatedvampire]

You gave those wounds to your god, Enki. Did you think they would heal so easily?

(Uh Oh! Someone gave the priest catholic guilt!)

[someawkwardnerd]

i love outer wilds <3 i love experiencing the death of the universe <3

[todayisafridaynight]

journalists underestimate the magnitude of my addiction and how far i'll go for the bit

[8um8le]

Have sun , moon or 8ot ever come back from situations "seriously" injured/damaged ,,or are they just flawless at what they do 🐈‍⬛

Yep, they have been in close counters to death, especially in their previous vessel (body) since they couldn’t afford the type of machinery they have now, also this is the same time they only started the team, so their teamwork coordination isn’t as in sync either. It was usually sun and moon up front while mannequin 8ot operates in the shadow, since his body was so fragile.

Lots of trial and error to get to where they are, i will try to at least scribble a comparison of sun and moon’s 3 vessels (they are on their 3rd one currently) while 8ot’s (the android) and the mannequin he was originally are the only main bodies Bot has had. (Bot can pilot other robots he makes or tinkers enough with from his main, like a hive mind, he actually has a rule that the only android he’d ever pilot is the one we see him as all the time hhehhe)

I was gonna add a scribble comic to this answer of where 8ot’s main gets destroyed and he had to result to using “backup” and basically sun flipping out cuz it was scary, n moon had to witness 8ot and sun fight for the first time (it’s usually sun and moon or moon and 8ot who tussles) buuuttt its more than one page so- if i end up posting it, its inspired by this ask <33

[skrunksthatwunk]

other half

redraw screenshots taken from this post i made a while back ignore that i forgot to actually link it for like an entire day

[stevens-pastrami-sandwich]

chat i despise these creatures (i say as I lovingly doodle 17 more)

[rbtlvr]

so um... @rottmnt-week couldn't pick one fave au so i tried to narrow it down a bit (which. was still VERY hard) to just the main aus that are currently living in my brain rent free

2al by @intotheelliwoods / cas au by @somerandomdudelmao / imbi by @dandylovesturtles / miles to go before i sleep by @bottledovercast

+ individual images under the read more vv

[bipbopdepmop]

short boatem summer fic

based on this post -> (link) by @applestruda

Picture this: 

It is the hottest day of the year. The sun beats down relentlessly upon any poor sap that gets caught out in it. The heat can only be described as ‘being hit in the face with a sack full of bricks that have somehow been set on fire.'

We see the Boatem crew going about various activities as the very same sun spills into an overly warm room onto well-worn floorboards. The room is small and neat. There is a crooked green carpet on the floor and pictures on the wall of five laughing people. It is a room that has seen lots of love. 

A fan whirs steadily in the background. Impulse turns the page of his book, letting out a long sigh. Mumbo waters his plants, mumbling to himself and occasionally making a noise that is either pleased or disgruntled as he inspects his plants. So far, he has said “Ah!” in a pleased way fourteen times and “oh!” in a displeased way twelve times. Scar began counting an indeterminate amount of time ago out of sheer boredom. He’s been sitting in front of the fan for what feels like forever. It’s only been five minutes. Jellie meows. Impulse turns another page. Time drips by like honey. Every heat-filled second seems to take an hour to pass. 

Footsteps. Enter Grian, bright wings flashing at the edge of Scar’s vision. He would look over, call out a greeting but that would mean exposing his face to the heat. Grian is not worth braving the heat, he decides.

“I am never going to move again,” Grian complains. “I am just going to lay here and melt.”

“That seems like a good plan,” Impulse agrees with a small chuckle from the only shady corner in the room. A foot prods Scar’s side. 

Poke. “Scar, move over.” Another, more insistent poke. 

He turns his head, just a little. The right side of his face is now uncomfortably warm, exposed to the Void-forsaken heat. Grian really does look terrible, hair plastered to his forehead, face red and sunburnt and ear-feathers limp. 

“I was here first!” Scar says, a bit indignant. First dibs, right? “Go get your own fan. There’s one somewhere around here.” He ducks a little, but not enough to avoid the wing that whacks him in the head.

“Ow!” he says halfheartedly, turning his head to face Impulse. Ah, sweet, sweet relief for the right side of his face, not so much for his left. “Impulse, Grian hit me!” 

“Grian did nothing of the sort,” Grian interjects, tone bright and innocent-sounding. Another wing whacks Scar again. “Scar’s the one hogging the fan.”

With a long suffering sigh, Impulse looks up from his book. The glare that Scar receives is just short of withering. Got it. Don’t interrupt Impulse. Scar yelps as he is rudely pushed over onto the floor and into the sun. The floor burns to the touch. His poor, poor, super muscle-y arms. Betrayal! Blood! Trauma! Death! He will never forgive Grian for this. He will pay. 

A thump. Grian’s sigh of sheer relief is almost pathetic. Sure enough, Grian’s face is now inches from the fan, eyes closed in pure joy. Scar groans dramatically. 

“Grian, how could you? My very own brother-in-arms!” 

Grian scoffs. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Me?” Scar gasps. “I would never.”

“Oh you absolutely would,” Mumbo says with a snort. 

“Fine, fine! I see how it is around here. No love for good ol’ Scar! C’mon Jellie, we can go join the Big Eyes Crew. I bet they have a fan. I bet their fan is bigger than ours. After all, Bdubs’ smile is the biggest there is. He’s probably got the biggest fan too.” Impulse snorts and turns the page. Grian’s wings rustle. Mumbo makes his fifteenth “Ah!” His plants must be doing well.

Scar sighs, pulling himself into an upright position and drapes himself over Grian’s shoulders. “See, this way we can share the fan!” 

“Scar,” Grian whines, dragging his name out exasperatedly. “You’re too warm! Go away.” 

“Come on Grian, you can say it,” he teases, smiling. “I’m too hot. I’m too hot for you.”

Scar grunts as Grian elbows him in the side, throwing him off his shoulders. Huffing, he leans against Grian’s back instead. If he can’t get the fan, a nice backrest will do. Even if that backrest has really, really pokey bony wings that dig into his back. Maybe he’ll take a nap and when he wakes up, it’ll all be over. He closes his eyes.

After what barely seems like ten minutes, he hears Pearl say “What’s all this? You guys look absolutely pathetic.” Cracking his eyes open a little and turning his head to face her, he sees her in all her moth-y glory, standing over them. She has a shopping bag in one hand. Slowly, she reaches in and pulls out-

A freezer pop.

Scar might cry. He’s never seen such a beautiful sight. He might pick Pearl up and twirl her around in joy if it weren’t so dang-blasted hot.

---

[pencildragons]

snippet from my upcoming foxquin fic sinner, sinner (come to dinner) for foxquinweek !!!!!

“Commander Fox,” says the Chancellor, smiling his kindly smile. Fox stands very still and stares straight ahead, past Palpatine and through the great transparisteel window at the city below, skyline exploding in the brilliance of the sun’s final dying rays. The fanciful part of him that will one day be responsible for his death imagines that, if he’s just still enough, Palpatine will forget him entirely. It’s ridiculous, he knows, he knows, of course he knows, but he clings to it anyway, endeavours to move as little as possible, turns trying to hide even the slight rise and fall of his chest into some sort of test of how good his impression of being a block of stone is. “Sir,” says Fox. “Commander Fox,” Palpatine says again, still smiling that awful fucking smile, but sadder, now, mournful, bushy eyebrows doing something terrible and expressive. “You have disappointed me.” “Yes, sir.” “I gave you a very simple directive, Commander, and still you failed.” Fox is barely breathing now. Only a few klicks away, the spire of the Jedi Temple burns in a halo of pink-red, spearing through the cloud-strewn sky. It looks like one of the paintings hung in the Senate rotunda corridors, the ones that like as not cost more to procure than he did. His throat is dry. He tries to swallow. It sticks. It is likely he is dehydrated. There is a little light flashing on top of the spire, warning away in-atmo transports and low-flying starships. Orange-blue-green. Orange-blue-green. He stares at it, so he doesn’t have to look at Palpatine. “Yes, sir.” “Such inadequacy is, of course, unacceptable, Commander, as I’m sure you’re aware. I really had hoped it would not come to this, you understand.” Liar, Fox thinks. You love this. “But there is only one way to learn, and that is through experiencing consequences of your actions. Perhaps next time you will not take your sworn duty so lightly, hmm?” “Yes, sir.” “Draw your blaster, please, Commander.” Fox blinks and, in his surprise, breaks his stillness to turn his head to face Palpatine properly. “…Sir?” “Must I repeat myself twice? Draw your blaster from your holster.” Slowly, Fox draws. He wonders if this is some sort of test, if he’s going to be punished further for making his weapon naked in front of the Supreme Chancellor of the entire fucking Republic. (In the light of the dusk spilling through the window into the opulent office, Palpatine’s eyes seem almost gold. It is for but a brief moment, just the rays of the fat sun catching oddly, and then they return to that sharp, ice-chip grey like nothing at all happened.) “Good,” says Palpatine, and smiles again. Like this, he looks like some natborn’s father’s father—grandfather, he believes the term is—all benevolent wrinkles and knowing looks. “Set it to kill.” Fox sets it to kill. It is not a difficult thing. He is just as much a weapon as the blaster in his hands, well-oiled, clean, smooth. Efficient. He was designed for this. It is easier to follow orders mindlessly; his brain, like all their brains (except, perhaps, Kote’s, but Kote’s a little fucked up and is an outlier for everything else, anyway), is primed for command, made to obey. A perfect, thoughtless gun, with just enough ruthlessness and self-determination to set them apart from the CIS’ droids. That’s the idea, anyway. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the Kaminoans failed in the execution of something. “Turn around, Commander,” Palpatine murmurs, words soft and smooth and rich as the heavy velvet-fabric from his home planet that he has all his clothes cut from. “And fire at will.”

rbs deeply appreciated :]

[coderzxd]

Don't know how to answer people when they ask you a question? Get quiet or stressed because you kind of don't want to answer but you also can't explain why, lest you start to answer? Getting called secretive because you Just Don't Respond??

Might I introduce you... To The Cards!!!!

[peridots-pixiwolf]

Highly doubt I’m the first one to point this out with seven months since act II released but. y’know the sentient terminal theory from the p-1 entry

[Start ID. An ULTRAKILL screenshot of the terminal at the end of the level 5-3: SHIP OF FOOLS. It has been tipped over on its side from the Leviathan capsizing the ship, and its Tip of the Day has been replaced with the word “Ow.” End ID]

[drunkonduty]

Hi

[tittysuckersworld]

okay did i barely change this? yeah. buttt i wanna talk about the lil story idea reasons made this peice(other than practices wanted to do)

rambles under cut so is nice to scroll through

you have entered my ramble zone. this was your mistake.

anyways!! so for this the lil backstory i made is that, dazai snuck off from work to slack off. leaving his trench coat over some pillows to make it look like he was napping again wile he snuck out of the building. this was also one of chuuyas rare days off. they run into eachother to both of their perceived annoyances, fighting themselves into an alley way. dazai ends up with chuuyas hat and somehow they both end up in a metal crate.

little did they know(they sorta knew but yknow) there was a new sorta gang in the port that had heard of double black and planned this. the box is welded shut and they made sure it was small enough so dazai and chuuya would alwase be touching(so chuuya cant activate his powers and somehow get them out). mabey there was a user with a temporary sleep ability to help stuff out?

im not fully sure- what do they do in the box? you can decide ;> ;> i think at some point atsushi ends up saving them but for now all there is is them and a box. letting this idea go free for anyone who wants to expand on it, only thing i ask is link back to art so others that may wanna see can see and that you somehow link it to me to read because i would go crazy and love to see smth- yee yee thats all thank youuu

[koddlet]

ok but people i'm so serious if you make a zine and feel like sharing it you can tag me.... i will look at it lovingly with my eyeballs and so can everyone else