#sheep all over him!!

[canisalbus]

Yeah sorry I drew this.

Hope you feel better soon ♡

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[the-girl-with-too-many-ideas]

So, raise your hand if you found yourself thinking that Shen Jiu and OG Shang Qinghua would have made a terrifying power couple. 🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️

[ay-masakali]

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm always more lenient to fictional children in difficult circumstances but Shirase can fuck right off. Never before has a character pissed me off this bad.

First off, the fact that he kept bringing up that the Sheep were the ones who gave Chuuya a home when he didn't have one, like they weren't street kids looking out for each other. Like Chuuya didn't give his heart and soul to protecting them, joined the mafia to protect them. Like what kind of fucked up guilt tripping is that. You've known each other since you were 8. The boy's as loyal as you're gonna get. Sure there's viewing him as strong and a pillar and someone who doesn't need help, but then constantly reminding him that they took him in when no one else would? That's straight up insulting Chuuya and all he is as a person. That's such a shit thing to say to anyone.

Second, he's annoying as shit. I wasn't fond of him to begin with when I read Stormbringer but he somehow managed to make me groan every time he spoke. Never have I wanted to punch a child this bad.

Not to mention the poisoned knife. Who could forget that, not Chuuya that's for sure.

His only redeeming quality is that he helped save Chuuya's life in sb. I wouldn't've cared if he died but Chuuya would've been sad so it's fine that he's alive.

[gingermintpepper]

Local farmer engages in autumnal activities (he is buying his lambs new bonnets)

Commentary under the cut☆

Ahhh, I actually somewhat finished a piece of art 🥺 !!!

I tried a lot of new things for the colouring of this. Fields of Mistria is a very vibrant, very rich world of extremely harmonious colour palettes but despite its vibrance, what I take from it's art direction is definitely the coziness of its atmosphere and the way its characters can go from being all bright and aglow one moment to surprisingly thoughtful and personal in another. I wanted to capture that kind of vibe. While I still very much refuse to line or generally polish up any of my digital stuff, this is probably the only actually 'complete' bit of art I've done all year and I'm pretty proud of myself for it. Digital art's felt like this thousand head beast to slay for me and while I still don't understand a lot of it, I can't help but feel like this is a great accomplishment!

A couple additional notes:

Characters are colour coded in Fields of Mistria, so I wanted to keep that in mind while choosing colours for Hyacinth's outfit too. Hyacinth has always been associated with a deep, rich almost pthalo blue and gold for me, so I decided to make those his main colours. I'm not sure if there's such a thing as a neutral purple but I imagine that's what his coat is - realistically though, it should be brown or something. The desaturated plum sparks way more joy for me though.

Along with the colour of his sheep being indicative of what rank their breed is (FoM has 6 colour ranks for its animals, each more prestigious than the last - blue is Rank 3, the rank right before the really premium silver and gold tier animals) I also just think it's cute for Hyacinth to have blue sheep since teal and yellow-orange are Apollo's colours to me 😂

You actually can't buy animal accessories from the wagon in FoM but I figure Hermes wouldn't have too much problem acquiring some cute stuff on request. Aristaeus - the only other farmer left in town - hasn't had much time to sew up new animal accessories anyway considering how much rebuilding the town is doing. (Hyacinth already bought most of his other items 💀)

[sysig]

Coming in to play! (Patreon)

[sluttish-armchair]

Ok but thinking back to how I was in elementary and middle school: I had such disdain for other kids who broke the rules, that I irrationally hated a whole bunch of kids — kids I would have made good friends with — all because I couldn’t stand the fact that they engaged in conflicts with, and affronts to authority figures or standards.

It even went as far as internally mocking a kid my age — calling him “Mama’s Boy” in my head — over the fact that his mother whispered comments into his ear, which he mumbled unintelligibly into the mic, and then would fall asleep as if dead on her arm. I perceived his inability to give comments on his own, and his sleeping, as moral failings of both mother and child; because I wasn’t raised like that. And maybe, those feelings also came from jealousy. I was expected to fight off sleep all the time because I could read at a college level in third grade, and could theoretically understand the material presented at the meetings despite it still being inappropriate for my age group.

I was so far deep into the “bad associations spoil useful habits” mindset that it made me hate my fellow neurodivergents — kids I would have been friends with — who maybe couldn’t hide it as well as I could. That is beyond fucked up. Now, I work with those very kids I disliked so much as a child, and guess what? They are my absolute favorite people to be around; and many of them remind me of myself.

[arcadequeerz]

batim fandom sleeping on the song 'Have Faith' by Aviators.

[skunkes]

very often ill see bears following my nsfw account and ill end up looking thru their profiles as i check for ppls ages in bio and theyre 99.9% bear4bear. That one anon lied to me.

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[whosxafraid]

The Seaweed Is Always Greener

Tracked from [ X ] (It refused me editing so repost it is) @tabbyrp

In time with her snatching up her weapon of choice and the beginning of violence, a merman's head snaps back in confusion. Because what in the---? Mix matched eyes blink rapidly as the last bit of his projectiles lies in a hand. One that isn't so much ready to throw it at her now. Because she's talking...yelling really. Swearing at Saints and tossing out threats as she stabs an oddly shaped piece of wo--wait no he knows what that is. It's an oar. Yes. A piece of wood shaped so to make two leg's smaller moving islands...move. But there's a slight scrunch to his nose because...what is a saint anyway? And why is she swearing at it?

But those questions are knocked loose by a minimal shake of his head. One that tilts a little more the further into the cove she comes. Deeper she goes until coming up short and sudden at the almost mid point of her height.

I shall drag this cove with nets all day and night until you're caught. And then....

He finds himself leaning forward. Brows lifting by degrees. Because even he can tell she's working out what to say. a flicker of curiosity blooming what she will inevitably decide on. And then the other shell drops.

...And then you will be full of regret for these poor choices you have made in your existence.

And in pure honesty of the moment? It produces an indignant snort. Because he will be full of regret? He's already got his share of that and no he will not be taking on anymore. Still it makes him pause. Makes him think.

Why had she come back? Why was she here. Nearly dying--he thought that would be off putting enough but there's something to this particular two legs. A stubbornness he's only ever seen in bull sharks. And that...feeds his curiosity as much as his amusement.

And so his grip around that last bit of chum is tightened as he slips back beneath the surface. Locating her in the sea is easy. The bits of her that bellow out in the current makes her rather hard to miss even in the darkness. And he creeps forward by degrees. Using the silt and sand she's stirring up to get as close as he dares. Just out of reach of her and her oar. And for a moment he waits. Suspended in the dusty sea, clouded from view. But then. . .

The slightest twitch of a tail, the minimal stroke of an empty hand and he breaks the surface up to but not including his nose. Seaweed green and sun gold locked upon her. Because even one tiny motion he doesn't like? And he will do what he has to to keep his cove...his.

Yet for the moment he remains motionless. Dark mop hair flat against his skull. Weighed down by perpetual wetness. And maybe that makes his next movement look oddly funny. The way his head tilts ever so slightly to one side. The last bit of chum set blindly upon his tail before he uses it toss the chum over his own head. Where it lands just short of her between them.

As if to say:

Oh will you now? You and what army?

[ssecond-hand-faith]

Stargazing with SCANDALOUS HAND HOLDING 😱

Clove belongs to @dread0narrival

[skinnypaleangryperson]

This is so endearing 💖😭

[cutemeat]

whatever dennis cant get thru to a real person in dtamhd as a manifestation of his frustrations about how he literally cant connect with anyone on a real level anymore bc of all the lies fucking whatever im not thinking about it again….

[where-the-tumbleweed-plays]

Tumbleweed needs everyone to know that I am his most cruel and heartless mother for decreasing the amount of food he gets due to him gaining a third again his body weight over the last year no that is not all fur Tumbleweed you are shaped like a pregnant sheep!

He has spent much of the day stomping from room to room while yelling his immense displeasure.

[nezuscribe]

being married to gojo is probably such a weird limbo to be in. he doesn’t talk much, but he watches you a lot. the way you move, the way your head tilts back as you laugh unapologetically, the little way your nose scrunches up when you’re confused.

he’s aware of your past, the way you were raised. he knows how much of a black sheep you are, and the more he spends time with you the more he realizes how much you try to hide that.

the way you joke through awkward moments, or the way you tried to hide your expression when somebody doesn’t laugh at something you hoped to be funny are all things gojo has noticed about you.

he knows how you sometimes come down to the training yard, hiding behind a pillar as if a group of men who are trained to be aware of their surroundings wouldn’t spot you from a mile away.

but a part of him likes having you there, puffs his chest out a little more when he disarms someone, his grin a little cheekier when the men praise him of his talent.

though you never really seem to be there for him, despite gojo being your husband. it almost seems like you don’t even want him to know you’re there, making sure to duck your head if he sees you.

until one night, when the men file out and into their quarters, gojo stays behind, in one of the rooms that lead out into the yard, still cleaning up.

his ears prick up when he hears the sound of footsteps, leaving the sword room, expecting to see on of his men, when instead he sees you, looking at the bows littered on the ground.

gojo watches as you pick one up, looking around to see if anybody were there, missing the way gojo was hidden in the shadows, and sees you look around for an arrow.

he wonders what that feeling in his chest it, the one that contracts and loosens whenever you’re near.

he goes back into the shed, picking out some arrows for you and walks to where you were.

“here,” he calls out, and you whip your head around, a look of surprise and embarrassment on your face.

your lips slightly part, shocked that it’s your husband who caught you, and you duck your head a little bit as you quickly go to set the bow back down on the ground.

“sorry,” you quickly say, your eyes trialing at the arrows in his hand in a curious sort of way, “i just wanted to, um, hold one.”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes at your lie as he picks the bow back up from the ground, wiping some of the dirt from earlier from his hands on his pants as you slowly accept it.

“do you know how to shoot?” he asks, his sturdy figure towering over yours as you stare at him, squinting your eyes a little, and finally shake your head no.

he nods, expecting this as he picks up a bow that was resting on the wall, cocking one of the arrows in the as he shows you what he’s doing.

you’ve spoken to him a bit more as of recently, but never enough for you to think he’d be willing to show you how to use a bow.

“line up your arrow with the bowstring,” he demonstrates, “use your non dominant hand to hold it,” you watch silently as he grips it with his left hand.

you do the same thing, the arrow clumsily sliding around until your able to cock it, holding it loosely with your non dominant hand like he said.

“your dominant hand should hold the string between three fingers,” his slender fingers take it in between and he stretches it, “but make sure your wrist is aligned with your fingers.”

you do the same thing, feeling the resistance from the bowstring as you pull it back.

gojo looks over at your legs and clicks his tongue, clearly not liking what he’s seeing. he sets his own bow on the ground as he comes up from behind you.

“your legs should be like this,” his voice is deep, breath hiting the back of your neck as he nudges your legs apart, separating them until one is in front of the other.

your heart is pounding so loudly against your chest your sure the bow is about to vibrate along with it.

his hand cups your elbow, carefully pulling it back as the string groans under the pressure. you feel like you’re sweating your entire body weight in water off right now.

his eyes are focused on your wrist, holding it gently as he lowers it slightly, and you feel his nose slightly brush against the side of your head.

“don’t focus on the tip of your arrow but the target,” his voice comes out barely audible, but you swallow thickly, nodding.

you try your best to focus on the target that’s in front of you, trying to center the bow with the middle.

“let go when you’re ready,” gojo says, his lips near your ears.

you give it a couple seconds, trying to aim as best as you can, before your hand lets go of the string.

you both straighten your backs up, watching as it flies into the target.

the arrow nearly hits the wood around it, so far away from the target itself that it’s almost comical, and you laugh, tilting your head back as shake your head in embarrassment.

“it’s your first time,” he says, trying to help but you shake it off, missing his warmth from behind you as you set the bow back on the wall.

“and my last,” you promise, missing the way he seemed to deflate.

you turn back to gojo, only to see his eyes it filled with the mirth they had only moments ago, this time focused on your left hand.

you look down, trying to figure out what was wrong.

suddenly, you remember that you had taken off you ring a couple days ago, not finding any use in wearing it.

gojo swallows thickly, a strange lump in his chest as he stares at the arrow you had shot and then back to your face.

“i just figured…” you trailed off, biting your lips as you tried to find the words, “you know…” you motioned to his own left hand, void of any ring.

his eyes are a different hue, as if a storm was brewing inside them.

you watched as he dug his hand inside his tunic, tugging something out. your eyes fall to a delicate gold chain, his wedding ring hanging off of it.

“i don’t want it to fall off during training,” he bites out and suddenly your mouth feels dry.

you nod once, eyes fleeting away from his as you nod again, at nothing and everything, and silently leave.

[foilflingza]

my family bs is finally starting to weigh on me again