#kinda but I’m counting it

[hiccupbutpurple]

Decided to attempt drawing Hiccstrid as this scene of Stephanie and Peter from NPMD. (Ref image + other versions under the cut).

I could’ve drawn him cowering a bit more but I wanted to actually try drawing his face (and the angle was easier for me lol). We’re just gonna say his confused contemplation about whether a gun would work against a ghost took over his surprise at this point. Astrid is already ready to defend them.

Like 20 mins later:

Viggo, Krogan, Ryker (maybe Heather and Dagur if he isn’t Max): Hofferson has got a gun, Tra-La-La-La how fun! Hofferson has got a gun, she knows what must be done. ;p

(Also Dagur, Heather, Viggo, Ryker and Krogan as the lords of black would be cool even if Heather wasn’t technically with them and stuff and the timing with Dagur and Krogan is different but shhh it’s an AU and for fun ;) )

Also for the words on the drawing:

Astrid: Hiccup, get behind me! I’ve got a gun!

Hiccup: Astrid, it’s a ghost. I don’t think that’s gonna do any good.

Here’s a little dump of the sketch and without the (very simple) background - Hiccup’s hair is not as large

And the og ref

[steddiefication]

The first time Steve goes to Eddie and Wayne’s trailer, he tells Eddie that he likes how cozy it is. Eddie shoots him a dirty look before turning to go straight to his bedroom, no doubt thinking that his tentatively new friend meant it in the same way he’s heard other rich people use that word- when they think a place is small and cramped, but don’t want to look bad by saying what they truly mean.

Meanwhile, Steve barely notices the reaction, too caught up in thinking about how lonely it is in his parents’ big, empty, sterile-feeling house. How it looks as though it’s from a catalogue- nice but impersonal, with little indication that anyone even lives there. How he wishes it was instead like the trailer he was standing in- not just a house, but a home.

[l3viat8an]

*points at ur pussy* are u gonna finish that? *tummy growls really loud*

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

Thoughts and doodles

.

(Please do not use, or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me thank you <3)

[hotdogmchiggin]

Aw shit they put the horrors of late stage capitalism into my Pokémon Mystery Dungeon 😔

(Mostly) Based on the mouthwashing dev QnA about each character’s favorite Pokémon. Couldn’t get the idea of throwing them into PMD out of my head.

Typical job at the Poke Express Guild:

Some more bonus drawings below

Jimmy secretly wishes he was a mega rayquaza but he’s just a poser who’s obsessed with pikachu’s popularity and position as the mascot. So. A mimikyu.

Daisuke is a zorua because it’s the closest to weregarurumon and I think it matches his vibes. Just a guy who causes a little bit o mischief here n there :)

I did make Daisukes weregarurumon wishes come true (No mega rayquaza for jim)

I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with the background so I threw them into the dungeon. WOE upon ye

[ricky-mortis]

Hnnnnnng… long hair Ted

[mxmarsbars]

bound together by an object. surely this won’t go wrong. surely not.

[happi-dreams]

wahoo!! finally finished this hwbdhwd — it’s not perfect but still !! pretty proud of it :]

merry lil Christmas (or any other fun holidays!) this lovely lil season!!

[royaltea000]

Rebirth

[tornado1992]

Do you guys think that Sonic has scars?

Not like Tails’, definitely not like those. Tails’ scars are from ripping fur, burning flesh, badly healed broken bones, deep cuts, and stuff he doesn’t even remember, from before he even met Sonic and started fighting Eggman. So many scars. He’s covered in them, his fur hides them, so he’s lucky that his tails are the fluffiest part of him, that’s where he has the most scars, hes not exactly ashamed of his scars, they show what he’s survived, they show that he came through all that. But still, most of them are a painful reminder that he had to survive, not live, survive.

Now Sonic… Sonic has very few scars, almost none of them from fights or Eggman encounters, his dumb bots couldn’t ever dream of hurting him, he was way too fast for that, way too strong. So they’re not from those fights, no, they’re from something completely different.

All the baby fox fangs marks in his hands, all the deep scratches from tiny little claws in his chest and the back of his arms, all the little cuts close to his face, all of them.

Sonic is proud of those scars.

He’s proud of those scars, because each and every of those scars are a reminder that he baby fox that caused them survived, because every time Sonic bled because of that kid, it was worth it.

Because he tried to bathe him when he was more blood and mud than fur. Because he forced him to take medicine when he was sick. Because he hugged him every time he had a nightmare and wouldn’t wake up even if it meant he would instinctively try to hurt him in the process. Because he held him and didn’t let go even when he felt tiny claws digging and ripping in his skin.

Those scars meant his little brother still wanted to survive. Those scars meant Sonic did everything to make sure he would live.

He’s proud of those scars.

[fubukiiisss]

i’ve something to say again (ง •̀_•́)ง

in advance sorry, i think i’m talking too much

anyway, one of the few things i noticed yet again, past few days was when people say “i’m aware, i know it’s instant….” and they wait.

i’ll explain, suppose emily is aware of having an iphone. now it’s instant and there’s nothing to do. but emily thinks “it’s instant for awareness” yet “waits” to experience with senses. it’s more like “i’ll see it with my senses soon” “i’ll see it tmrw”. emily still waits in a way for her senses to conform (ik that’s LOA lingo, but it’s appropriate here for some reason) this is misidentification, you’re creating dualities. i think this also something that most people struggle with.

i think pointers become very helpful at times^ like this.

[candyheartedchy]

Some sketches of Scratch being held.

[sipsoftea]

Since I did one for my first farmer, I obviously had to do one for my second. We don’t play favorites in this house (except we totally do, I love her sm)

Her name is Jeannie, and she’s a half vampire on her dad’s side. Other than her appearance, vampirism hasn’t really affected her life that much, she just has to deal with a mild garlic allergy and getting sunburnt real easy. She also ages a tad slower than a normal person, but she does still age

[gu1-nevere]

Epic x Hades AU but with my design, don’t ask why Odysseus have boob

A au I made basically OdyPen join Kronos side

Kronos want to take over Olympus and make a better future for mortal, OdyPen seeing this then join him because yk what the gods did to them

[m1d-45]

Alright let me try this again.

What if Reader vented to Birb Xiao, not knowing that it was actually him?

They talk about their fears and frustrations, letting out all the words they've wanted to tell a person, but they have to settle for their pretty bird because no one will listen.

So Xiao is just sitting there, resting in the True Creator's hands, listening as he gets a glimpse of how they truly feel.

They say the milileth is like a raging stampede with their spears and swords. They say how the Qixing all seem so cold and unfeeling. They talk about how Zhongli genuinely terrifies them, because he acted so kind to others but was borderline cruel when hunting them.

They talk about Xiao, too, but they don't seem to have many complaints. They haven't seen him in a while, and the last time they crossed paths with him, he just... let them run. The adeptus had looked angry, but also a bit startled (and perhaps, a bit guilty?) at the sight of them. They even once overheard him leading milileth soldiers astray ("by mistake" says the creator, but Xiao knows the truth) by saying the creator had left a while ago, when really, they were still very nearby. While they say they are still a bit scared of him, they don't fear him as much as they fear the others.

All the while, Xiao sits, still as a stone. He takes in every word, every shaky breath and darting glance. He nuzzles into their hand, hoping to offer even the slightest bit of comfort.

He hopes that they continue to be unafraid of him in the future.

-Sibling Anon

he who is without sin

a/n: decided to make this one a full fic for no reason in particular (i don’t have an actual post shhhh)

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: imposter sagau things, minor blood mention, spoilers for xiao lore, some spoilers for liyue (like names and titles of people/places)

-> gn!reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay

< masterlist > (has context for bird!xiao if you’re lost)

from the moment that xiao was saved, when his new name was bestowed upon him and he signed his contract with morax, xiao had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

a pledge to stand by your side, a clause written in by the god that forged his original contract, releasing him from his duties to liyue to serve the one that had granted him life. a permanent extra sweep to his duties, always on the lookout for the highest god above all.

however, he was not the first to find… ‘you.’

‘you’ had landed in sumeru, nested in the large tree surrounding the akademiya. ‘you’ had climbed down, introduced ‘yourself’ to the sages with a smile. everybody was quick to give ‘you’ the glory rightly the creator’s, ushering ‘you’ atop a throne of silver and gold, offerings laid at ‘your’ feet with all the haste of those deprived of the divine.

xiao may have hung back at the beginning, unwilling to allow his karma to infect ‘your’ other worshippers, but he still did his duty. he still kept ‘your’ path clear of enemies, and was the first to pick up his blade when word broke of your imposter.

and yet, when he laid eyes upon the one he was supposed to hate, he was the first to repent.

xiao took a shaking breath, crossing his arms around himself. “morax?”

the elder god turned, amber eyes soft. “what is it, xiao?”

xiao marched through dihua marsh, polearm gripped tightly in his hand. a large hilichurl camp had been reported, which while not an issue normally, was the third in the last four days.

irritation was openly displayed on his face, the anemo around him simmering with his anger. why did the abyss have to act up now, when they were on a hunt? surely even they, as infected and riddled with darkness as they were, worshipped a god? or was that the source of their evil?

he kept marching north, only turning his head at the sound of a soft gasp.

“how will i know when the creator arrives?”

morax smiled, not upset like xiao had anticipated. “don’t worry about such things. when the time comes-“

you stood on the path branching west, eyes wide. you looked nearly exactly like the ’you’ on the throne, the same cool eyes that called for your death now wide and staring at him in fear.

“-you will know.”

you turned on your heel, your armful of sunsettias tumbling to the floor, but… xiao did not chase you.

instead he brought a hand to chest, under his necklace. he pressed, feeling the still-regular beat of his heart.

he pressed, searching for the place where his karma used to be.

from the moment that xiao realized the truth, when his new duty was bestowed upon him, he had made a promise. another contract, one without physical ink and paper, one bound to his soul.

one to you, his creator.

he flew down from the sky, landing in your outstretched hand. he chirped a greeting, body relaxing under your gentle touch.

“hello there, friend,” you cooed, sitting straighter under the tree. your tree, the one you kept coming back to, the one he always directed other adepti away from because it was for you, not them. not him.

you fed him as usual, but stayed strangely silent. no stories of the kindness mitachurls showed you, no update on how close or far the people searching for you had gotten, none of the usual things he looked forward to. you just… sat. watching him in your hand, an emotion he didn’t know the name of drawing your brows close.

maybe you just didn’t want to talk today? but if something was troubling you, he wanted you to share, to allow him some of the weight off your shoulders. then again, he was just a bird to you…

“do you know ganyu, pretty bird?”

xiao froze, thankful he was facing your palm so you couldn’t see his eyes widening.

“i thought i did.”

he looked up, carefully, daring to meet your eyes. this time, he could pin down what you were feeling: betrayal.

his finch heart burned.

your thumb pet over his wings, but he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it. not now.

“i thought she was kind.”

she was, he knew firsthand. how she worried over the tianquan, fretted over her skills both with a bow and with a pen, how her and the yuheng kept each other afloat in the sea of endless work assigned to the jade chamber.

you smiled. it was bitter. “i guess i should have known better regarding the adepti.”

xiao’s heartbeat raced in his ears, something hot burning a hole in his chest. he was an adeptus, he wanted to say, he could be trusted.

but you didn’t know him as an adeptus. you knew him as your little songbird, your friend, the one you continued to risk your life for, even if you didn’t know it.

he chirped once, somber. he wanted to apologize, to take up his blade against his own king on your behalf, to walk up to the fraud’s throne and watch them bleed red.

but you didn’t need that. so he sat in your hand, leaning into your fingers, and let you speak.

as it turned out, today had been a busy day for you. you had wandered into the path of a millelith patrol, which had happened before, but not with keqing at the head of it. not when she had darted forward in a flash of lighting, electro arcing along her sword. not when she’d pulled out and blew a special whistle even as you ran, one that you couldn’t hear but could feel under your skin, taunting you as you tried to navigate the maze of bishui plain.

when you told him of ganyu’s frostflake arrows, he wanted to cry. when you described the anger in zhongli’s eyes, he started to weep.

you didn’t deserve this pain. you didn’t deserve having to outrun planet befall, you didn’t deserve to fear your life being stolen by those who should protect you at all costs- he should have been there. he was south, too far south to hear the whistle, but he should have been called.

he should have protected you.

under the shifting leaves of a sandbearer tree, your songbird cried. and you, none the wiser, continued to spell out the cause of his torment.

.

[blaithnne]

☆ @sketchbookweek — take 2 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ day 3 — hurt/comfort ! ☆

Pov you’re not used to being the one getting the comfort