#mostly for mutuals>>

[confessionsdiaz]

"bucktommy and their invisible strings" so invisible no one can see them. ever. you can walk through them. you wouldn't even trip.

[hauntedhamster]

[keferon]

The tac net crash chapter is one of my favorites so far~

Ah and. Guess what. I just discovered that including this post, I made 50 pieces of fanart for Mistakes on mistakes until.. I’m so sane and normal about this story can you tell👍

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 36-39)

* To note. Her hands are scaly. * And...unexpectedly wet?

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[ping-ski]

hihi!! i got the COOLEST opportunity to be a spot artist for @LMKFanzine aka Megapolis Mania! and guess what? LEFTOVER SALES ARE OPEN NOW!

run along now and go check it out! we all worked super hard on it <3 https://lmkfanzine.bigcartel.com

[karvviie]

have i mentioned that i’m a red team locus truther

(this is old art. earliest is from 2020)

[isabelleadjani]

THE STRAWBERRY BLONDE dir. Raoul Walsh, 1941

[sublimati0ns]

daily koss #7 … 2025.02.24 … bsky

they’re there for the free energon 🤦

[thehallstara]

anyways happy pride to all my high risk queers out there, to all my disabled queers for whom events aren't accessible to, to my immunocompromised folks who can't risk attending events where people aren't masked or taking covid precautions! happy pride to my fellow cripqueers that want to be out there fighting and celebrating with their friends and family and can't because it's not safe for them to do so– you're not alone and you deserve to celebrate too. we all do.

[elodieunderglass]

I haven’t watched Dungeon Meshi, but I always enjoy the dashboard osmosis experience and have a peculiar visual memory. Here is what I believe Dungeon Meshi to be mostly about. No complicating experiences with the text, or indeed character references, fed into this extremely clear vision, which I believe I torrented directly from the astral plane at the same time as the creator was logged on

[your-unfriendlyghost]

the outsiders as textposts I found while scrolling through the it’s always sunny tag:

pt 1/???

Here’s my Sylvia btw I’ve drawn her a handful of times but this is my first time posting her lol

Also it’s up to you if she’s tall or if Dal’s just short

[tinystepsforward]

i see matt posted again

[bunnieswithknives]

hey in ur peri animatic: (https://youtu.be/OCqlRuDaXYU?si=K52WDu_vw9rg7chz) that I have been permanently obsessed over since today and have watched about 20 times by now so much that I have drawn & posted stuff based on it what was that partial bug form peri had?

I haven’t watched either of the show btw so if it’s explained in the show please tell me plsssss

OK, SO the bug thing is not technically canon to the series. It's based on my own headcanons for fairy biology, but i do have justifications for it!! Fairies have very strong shape-shifting abilities, so it would make sense that the form they show to humans isn't necessarily their true form(not to mention extreme that mimicry is very common in insects). And you want to know the visible traits almost every fairy has in common? Being very small with Insect-like wings.

The fact that their humanoid form isn't their true form in actually confirmed in the show! Cosmo and Wanda are revealed to look like biblically accurate pseudo-angels in the museum episode. (I say pseudo angels because the Flaming Sword of Eden is only debatably sentient and I don't think is considered an angel. Ophanim are also debatably not angels because they don't have wings (sorry for the angel tangent I like angels))

So wouldn't their true forms be angelic then? Well, yes. But I like bugs so. Also I have more headcanons to justify myself. I like to think that they have both a true-true form (incomprehensible to the human brain, probably exists mostly in a dimension invisible to us, that looks how we imagine biblically accurate angels), and a fairy form (which is visible to humans but is naturally very insect like and tends to scare people). So, in order to interact with humans, they have to learn to shapeshift into a humanoid form but will occasionally slip if they get too relaxed/aren't careful, hence the mandibles coming out when he yawns!

The reason they struggle so much more with human forms than the animals or objects they typically turn into is that, well, they aren't trying to convince those animals or objects. The more human they try to look, the harder it is to keep up convincingly. If you turn into a really uncanny squirrel, only other squirrels will notice. If you turn into a really uncanny human, they form a lynch mob and burn you at the stake.

[eridude]

fish

[aventurineswife]

Okay, hear me out... AE!Sunday celebrating christmas wth reader on the Express and neither of them have any idea what christmas is bcuz it's just not a thing where they're from��

(Oh yes, a chrismas req when it's almost february and this probably won't even be out before like the end of feb💀)

No Footprints in the Snow

Summary: Neither you nor Sunday have any idea what Christmas is, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to celebrate it together aboard the Astral Express. As the train hums through the stars, you find warmth in each other’s company, sharing quiet reflections, unspoken emotions, and a simple touch beneath the twinkling lights of a decorated tree.

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Soft Moments, Mutual Pining, Subtle Angst but Mostly Fluff, Touch-Starved Sunday (?), Found Family Feels, Holiday Celebration (Sort Of), First Time Experiencing Christmas.

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Sunday’s Past (Melancholy Nostalgia), Light Hand-Holding (Yes, this is a warning. Why? I don't know either).

A/N: ahahaha.... 🚶‍♀️

The Express hums beneath your feet, its rhythmic motion blending with the low murmur of conversation and distant clinking of tableware. Outside the windows, the vast stretch of space is interrupted by a planet cloaked in a wintry glow, its atmosphere swirling with crystalline clouds.

It had been March 7th’s idea, of course—bringing a little of this Christmas tradition onto the Express. You weren’t sure how she managed to convince the others, but now, the train was adorned with twinkling lights, garlands, and strange red-and-white striped confections. A tree—tall, evergreen, and shimmering with baubles—stood proudly in the lounge.

Sunday stands before it, tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes tracing the soft glow of the ornaments. His wings shift with subtle curiosity, the left one twitching when he reaches a gloved hand to touch the twinkling lights. You watch, amused, from the couch as his brow furrows in quiet contemplation.

"You’re staring," you say, unable to help the smile that tugs at your lips.

Sunday doesn’t turn immediately. His fingers brush against the branches, his halo casting faint reflections against the glass baubles. "This ritual," he murmurs. "It’s meant to commemorate something, yes?"

You nod, shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch. "Apparently, it’s a celebration of warmth, generosity… togetherness. But, uh, I’m as lost as you are."

Sunday finally glances at you, the faintest ghost of a smile forming. "Then we are both wandering in the dark, it seems."

You huff a laugh. "Yeah, but at least we’ve got each other."

He doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turns back to the tree, thoughtful. There’s a familiar weight in his expression—the kind he wears when nostalgia grips him like a quiet tide, pulling him beneath memories you cannot quite reach.

"It reminds me of the Charmony Festival," he finally says, voice airy, distant. "We would release lanterns into the sky, their glow like falling stars, guiding lost souls to peace."

You watch the way his gaze softens, his mind lingering in a time long past. You wonder if it is painful for him to recall, or if the memories have dulled into something bittersweet.

You rise from your seat, stepping closer until you stand beside him. "It sounds beautiful," you say, your voice softer now.

Sunday exhales, the faintest flutter of his wings betraying an emotion he does not voice. "It was."

A beat of silence stretches between you, comfortable yet brimming with something unspoken. The lights of the tree flicker gently, casting shifting shadows across Sunday’s features.

Then, hesitantly, you reach for his hand. His fingers are cold through the gloves, but he does not pull away. Instead, he tilts his head, studying your intertwined fingers with quiet intrigue.

"You said Christmas is about togetherness," he muses, thumb grazing your knuckles absentmindedly. "Then… I suppose this is as close as we can get to understanding it."

Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his tone.

"Yeah," you breathe, squeezing his hand lightly. "I think so."

The Express hums on, carrying you both through an endless sea of stars, and for the first time in a long while, Sunday allows himself to simply exist in the quiet warmth of the moment.