#so fuckit!

[tangledinink]

Could we get some info on how the Hamatos are doing in Clover Crown? /nfta

super well, thanks for asking.

[ ⚘ clover crown ⚘ ]

[criminal-sen]

I've been very normal about these guys lately

[suntails]

a living bolt ⚡

[snepdragon]

hehoo

[sluckythewizard]

'I wont cry for you, I wont crucify the things you do. I wont cry for you, see, when you're gone, I'll still be BLOODY MARY'

[randaccidents]

twink Mind twink Mind twink Mind-

Had to draw @duchesskatriel's omori!Mind for this one the pose is just perfect for him. (Pose comes from F I N A L ｜ Alien Stage at 2:08!)

Isn't he just the cuntiest twink ever

[pissed-whizard]

Any fellow Dorohedoro fans out there?

[dunkledog]

i . fishnished an art work .

i think maybe i have art block or someting idk bc i cant. finish things i always sketch and sketch and then abandon the things that start to come out of them grr

anyways his name is Otto and uh normally he has a mask but I wanted to give him a face so . hence. face.

Backstory? eh, might work on it. Long and short of it is he might've done some crimes and faked his death to escape consequences so Otto probably isn't even his real name.... But I mean, that's pretty par for the course, huh? anyways BULLETPOINT TIME !!!!

works for Hoch. Helps decide what goes on RED's books and what stays under the operating table, if you know what I mean.

Head of forensic analysis and carries out dissections of dead experiments and unexpected respawn failure mutations.

Has taken up many duties around the lab. He likes to keep himself busy. Keep his brain from wandering off.

power-napper 5000

makes too much eye contact

One of those people that will remember everything down to the finest detail. He's always watching. Always listening. Hoch's favorite snitch.

He's also incapable of lying about events he's witnessed. He has a very strong desire to be correct when it comes to those things, and extremely obvious tells.

Oh, speaking of Hoch, Otto thinks he could take him.

No, not in a fight.

[shoezuki]

Sampo has been quiet, not even giving Gepard the slightest hints of what planets he is dragging him to, what Gepard should expect. His questions are always answered with a lazy wave of Sampo's hand, or a cheeky grin, a chuckle that makes Gepard punch his shoulder. (Sampo has started gasping, wincing in actual pain each time, only breaking his acting when Gepard panics and apologizes and holds him close. Gepard shoving him doesn't stop his laughter.)

His own secrecy seems to be eating at him, though. Gepard stands by the windows and watches stars shoot by as tails of light, actually watching Sampo squirm out of the corner of his eye; his legs don't stop moving as he sits in the piloting chair, he wriggles and shivers like he's uncomfortable, and occasionally his eyes light up and he opens his mouth before slamming it shut and trying to force himself still. It's cute, although he looks almost frantic and crazed sometimes.

If it had been anyone else witnessing Sampo's too-sharp smiles and erratic movements would have probably worried Sampo was going to snap and murder them. Luckily, Gepard recognizes Sampo's uncontainable excitement and finds it endearing.

Their small, unfortunately stolen space shuttle doesn't leave them any room to be apart. Gepard finds it to be comforting, though, now used to being shoved so close to Sampo that he can always, always reach out and touch him. Which he does. A lot. (Sampo always makes a humming, surprised sound in the back of his throat when Gepard catches him by surprise. He always tenses up, first, instinct raising his hackles. He relaxes quicker and quicker with each artificial day, though.)

"Is that the one?" Gepard asks, the ship humming and jolting gently and making electric groaning sounds as they slip out of hyperdrive. Galaxies and planets pass by as smudges of colour and light when Sampo sets their course and pushes the ship to its limits. But sometimes he randomly will slow things down, let them drift a bit, maybe point out celestial bodies and strange star patterns to Gepard and talk about them in strangely personal detail.

("I don't know what they're actually called but we called 'em Star Hoppers. They're usually... oh, there! There! You see that-- no no, where I'm pointing. And squint your eyes and you can see it. It kinda looks like a frog, right? Wait, do you know what a frog is, Geppie? Whatever, doesn't matter. But uh anyways I hope you got your fill because those things have some insane grudges and apparently will tell all their friends about the businessman who was distracted and accidentally crashed a massive ship into a whole family of Star Hoppers so we need to leave before it senses us.")

"Yep!" Sampo's voice echoes off of metallic walls. Gepard can feel the whole ship tilt slightly as Sampo slides his fingers over glowing blue screens, the shifting wings paddling through stardust and dark matter like oars. Sampo reaches over to some dial and the rough metal roof and walls shimmer, shifting into perfectly translucent glass. It's far from the first time, but Gepard always finds himself gaping at the hanging stars, the sudden feeling of being the only two people in endless space. Gepard looks towards the far, far off planet they are approaching and watches clouds of microscopic glittering dust shift like waves and his breath catches in his throat.

(If he turned his head slightly he'd notice Sampo watching him, always watching.)

The planet is light years away despite their fast approach, and at this distance it's less a uniform, round shape and more a gathered haze of colour. They approach quickly, the swirling haze solidifying into twisting shapes, intertwining lines and vines. It's only when they are just outside the hazy atmosphere that Gepard sees leaves, branches, and realizes the surface of the planet is completely consumed by greenery.

The ship jolts and shudders as they enter the atmosphere, surrounded by a blue-green sky barely visible through a swirling, thick smog of shifting colours of green and pink. Massive, all-encompassing treetops stretch out underneath them, millions of shivering leaves in shades of dark green, near-yellow colours, pale greens. Huge vines and twisting branches overlapped, intertwining with one another and bending in impossible ways.

Gepard's chest feels light, awe bright and burning under his ribs. He turns to Sampo to say something, eyes wide and vibrant, but finds any words he was going to stay fizzling into nothing. Sampo was already staring at him, a soft grin on his face, eyes half-lidded and fixated on Gepard. He found his face warming, his breath catching in his lungs. Gepard can't get used to the way Sampo looks at him.

He walks over to stand beside Sampo as he controls the ship, ducking them down down down closer to the surface that Gepard can't see. He rests a hand, gentle and hesitant on Sampo's shoulders; Sampo flinches and a wing of their ship tears through branches and leaves. Neither of them react, say anything, but Gepard grins when Sampo relaxes and leans into him.

The forest they move through is unimaginable, completely impossible to Gepard; trees the size of mountains, leaves as big as their ship, dark brown bark flowing past them like water. Trees and plants grow on top of branches, roots digging through wood and bark, hanging underneath like vines. Flowers of impossible colours and shades bloom among leaves and bushes, shifting and shivering as they move past. The fog permeating in the air makes the place look ethereal like a dream.

The world grows darker the closer they get to the surface, layers and layers of plant life blocking out the light from the trio of stars the planet orbits. thick vines strangle tree trunks, twisting over and around one each other impossible. Flowers the size of buildings shift towards their ship as Sampo directs them through the dark, petals bending as if to pluck them out of the air.

Sampo directs them up closer to the hazy sky, through the branches of a gargantuan tree that towers above most. Sampo slows their ship down, settling them on a flat, wide branch the size of a road. The ship jolt, hums, stutters over vines and rough bark before humming to a stop.

"Welcoooooome," Sampo sings out, leaning back and grinning up at Gepard. He throws his hands out in a wide flourish. "To Vix! well actually its technically called V-9, but that's not a fun name at all.

"We can't go outside," Sampo says quickly, "this ship-thing doesn't have any sanitization processes and I couldn't find any protective gear. If we stepped outside without anything the pollen and spores would seep into our lungs and probably start growing which is uh. gross."

"Is that what this is?" Gepard asks, looking up, "pollen?" Sampo's response is a humming affirmation, a sharp nod of his head. Gepard lets the quiet settle over them, comfortable and warm. He's transfixed by the planet, the life of it, the all encompassing green. He stands right by the massive windows, staring down and out and at everything intently, his back to Sampo. Small, pencil-thin vines teem over the branch they've settled on, dotted with minuscule flowers of blues and purples and whites. The leaves above them shiver with the wind, rustling sounding like wind chimes. It's beautiful.

"I dunno if it's true," Sampo breaks the silence, his voice a soft sound Gepard loves, "but allegedly this planet was once overrun by herbivores, no predators to keep them in line. Any and all plant life was chewed up, destroyed, stripped down to nothing. Yaoshi, the Abundance, passed by and saw how uneven the planet was. They gifted the plant life a chance to fight back and filled the soil with their power. It tipped the balance the other way, though, and now the planet is more plant than anything else. The pollen and spores are dangerous and will cling and grow on anything. The vacuum of space will kill anything that clings to the ship, but if we dragged the spores to another planet it would destroy it, too."

"That's..." Gepard starts, but finds himself at a loss. It's terrifying, really, the power an Aeon could evoke with a passing thought. The idea of how easily the plants could spread makes him shiver. But it's still beautiful, as scary as it is. The teeming life and power in every plant, every leaf, every root on this planet. It's mesmerizing.

"That's horrifying," Gepard settles with, the awe in his voice contradicting his words. Sampo seems to understand, though, in that way he always does; throwing his head back with a full-bodied laugh, grinning and nodding. "I know, right? It's cool."

It's quiet again, peaceful. Gepard can't look away from the planet. He watches the small, small flowers puff out, yellow pollen joining the haze. Branches and vines writhe, slowly but surely, moving along bark.

He feels Sampo walk up beside him, a hand almost shy as it grasps his own. Gepard doesn't hesitate, grasping Sampo's hand and interlocking their fingers. Sampo shakes, slightly. He always shakes in these little moments, like he's overwhelmed and close to bursting. Gepard glances at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling softly at the pale pink blush on his face, the light casting a pale green shade over him. Sampo's lips are a thin line, barely contained.

"You like it?" Sampo whispers it out. "The... the planet."

He's rarely bashful, rarely so shy and subdued, unsure. He's more unsure with Gepard now, though, more hesitant, almost scared. Gepard squeezes his hand. "Yeah, it's... lovely."

"You said you like green," Sampo blurts it out, hunching his shoulders to his ears and looking away so Gepard can't see his face. "You said... so I thought. You'd like this place."

It had been a passing comment, an answer to a random question Sampo had asked when they both were half asleep. ("Geppie? You awake?" "...Hmph?" "Okay, sweet. what's your favourite colour?" "... Green?" "...Really? I thought you'd say blue or something.") He hadn't thought of it, nearly forgotten about it, but clearly Sampo held it in his hands close to himself.

"...You brought us here," Gepard says, turned to Sampo fully, "because I like green?"

"Don't get a big head over it now, Geppie!" Sampo chokes out, huffing and crossing his arms. He doesn't dare to let go of Gepard's hand, instead accidentally dragging him closer. "Maybe I wanted to visit here before that, huh? Maybe I like this planet! Or maybe Sampo Koski is just trying to be the best intergalactic guide in the universe!"

Gepard just snorts and rolls his eyes, not giving a response to Sampo's floundering. It's calm, Gepard standing so close to Sampo, his warmth intoxicating. It takes no effort to wrap his arms around Sampo and rest his chin on his shoulder.

This time, Sampo barely tenses before melting into Gepard. It makes his heart inflate.

"You like plants," Sampo whispers, again. a confession. "And your apartment had so many of them. And you said you like green. But there's no plants on Jarilo. At least, not much. So... ta da?"

Gepard feels like he could explode, like his heart is going to burst out and paint the world with his feelings. He feels light, and airy and all he can do is stare up at Sampo, awestruck with something other than the planet Vix.

He hums, presses a kiss to Sampo's jaw. It's barely a kiss, really, more like pressing his wide smile into Sampo's skin. But he still feels Sampo's breath catch in his lungs, just like it does every time Gepard kisses him, touches him, adores him. "Thank you." Gepard imprints his words into Sampo's skin, barely getting them out and across his neck, his jaw, before Sampo twists around and captures his lips with his own.

[ventussolder]

Dear lord the mental eel

Spamton mii, for miitopia, with custom mouth, expression,,

[dadrielle]

Oh hey I should post this now - cowboyier Imogen design I finished just before the new outfit drop, that I didn't post right away because I thought the timing would make me seem salty lmao

[onedragonaday]

1/28/24 Light dragon from Loz Tears of the Kingdom

[latestdreamgirl]

INCREDIBLY INCREDIBLY CUTE COMM I GOT FROM @serenadeofsunshine !!! THANK YOU AGAINNNNNN 🫶🫶🫶

[lookninjas]

In FUCKIT #18, Sarah Andrew eulogizes a shopping mall and Alexis Siemon explores the value of fucking off. Plus, short fiction from Laura E. Price, (long) short fiction from Karen Sorenson, and five long poems from David M. Briggs.

[self-indulgentmanic]

This is gonna be a special ask but draw what u would do if ur were in death mark world. Let me peak into your psyche for uuuuhhhhhhh social experiment

Did NOT expect to get an ask like this but omg u just opened something dangerous (im about to be super annoying /lh) I've had sketches for a while so nows my excuse to post em hsuadhsa

I couldnt decide between being just a normal human mark bearer or a ghost so I decided to go with both <33 Not sure what kinda psychological analysis you can get from this but I wanna see whats yalls guesses from the stats huhu

Character Desc: "An artist with a strange sense of aesthetics, and is particularly fond of the unsightly, the grotesque, and anything that makes her heart jump. A bit airheaded, carefree, and not quite well-versed in reading social cues. She seems to believe to have hidden her eccentricity well, which is far from the truth."

Profile: Hobbies: Drawing, Writing Likes: Anything that scares her [which is a lot of things], Public speaking Dislikes: Letting people down Legend: Managed to talk about her interests for 3 hours straight

Her mark is on the center of her chest, which she got from being lost at a friend's party and accidentally bumped into a spirit.

When picked as a partner: "I'll do my best! ...But don't expect it to be good please"

And then heres my ghost hehe [i alr got a whole story for her but this post is long enough already Idk lmk if y'all actually want it lol] [but i also wanna see how yall interpret her design]

[alteredsilicone]

Painting

The waxflowers were blooming, filling the halls with a gentle, pleasant smell. Loid was arranging dried flowers in a vase, he was most at peace when allowed to fuss with the small things. The afternoon sun was gently dancing in his hair, creating a radiant halo around his head. He was beautiful.

Before Loid had entered his life, Albrecht never saw the worth in fragrances or decorations or the art of flower arrangement. Perhaps it was yet another fault of his - frigid pragmatism. They both agreed on the merits of the written word, yet Loid also had an eye for the visual arts, thus Albrecht had allowed him to express himself in the Necralisk. Perhaps he liked seeing little reminders of Loid everywhere he went, a selfish indulgence Albrecht allowed himself.

"Loid." The moment his name escaped Albrecht's lips, Loid turned his head, dried rose still in hand.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever sat for a painting?"

Loid smiled, then uttered something under his breath. Not offended, but amused.

"I am not nearly important enough for anyone to desire to capture my likeness. Is this about the commission?"

Not quite. The true purpose of Albrecht's question was to stay hidden, for now.

"Yes," Albrecht decided to move the conversation along. "I cannot seem to decide which artist to pursue, perhaps you could help me with that. I was thinking of either Polonia or Timofei."

Hearing Polonia's name made Loid grimace, but he quickly composed himself and returned to finishing the flower arrangement, clearly a way for him to pretend to be mulling over the question, but Albrecht knew which choice would be made before a single word was said.

"Polonia is an excellent wildlife artist. The birds she paints are one of a kind and her use of color is creative, however..." then came the truth. "Her figures are gaudy, exaggerated and occasionally lean into the pornographic. I am afraid she might take some creative liberties while painting you and then we will end up with wasted money and a worthless painting."

Polonia was an eccentric, that much was true. An old family friend of the Entratis, Albrecht kept contact with her for only one purpose - she knew people in less than polite circles, which often proved valuable when procuring reagents for some of Albrecht's more alchemical experiments. She would not ask questions and never kept a paper trail. Unfortunately, she was also an Orokin eccentric and harbored a disdain for Loid, which he was not afraid of returning.

In the name of objectivity, however, Albrecht had to weigh all the options that were offered to him.

"Timofei is the better option. He is classically trained, he has painted portraits for the Galleria before," Loid pointed at a painting mounted on the wall. "He is reliable."

Albrecht turned to face the painting Loid had pointed at. Euleria's graduation portrait. Timofei excelled at accentuating his subjects in a way that was true to life, yet also had an air of uniqueness that couldn't be captured neither by photograph or hologram. His daughter, ever the critic, tormented the painter at every step of the process, yet he endured with reserved professionalism.

Truth be told, Albrecht had no interest in being painted, yet the Galleria demanded a painting of him. His great scientific achievements beckoned to be immortalized as oil on canvas, that's what the Archimedeans told him. At least he had Loid to help him with the headache of picking an artist.

"Call Timofei. Have him come as soon as possible."

"Of course."

---

The doors to the Sanctum rumbled as the Tenno returned from their mission. Another Netracell run, with Tagfer leading the squad. Loid was already used to the routine, his assistance was not needed so he could busy himself with other tasks.

"Loid!"

He turned his head. Artemis was floating nearby and holding something that looked like a folder.

"What is it?"

"Viri wanted you to have this. Knowing her, a bunch of sentimental junk."

Loid took the folder from the Wisp and looked over it. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just a standard folder for keeping documents.

"Viri was so excited to show you this. I didn't even look inside, I don't care!" Artemis declared. Loid secretly appreciated her disinterest - he had heard his fair share of snappy comments and had no interest in finding out what creative epithets Artemis may conjure this time.

"Thank you, Artemis."

"Don't mention it," she floated off, joined her squad and the Tenno left for another round of Netracells.

Loid was curious, yet also scared. The Netracells were treasure troves of Albrecht's most personal possessions. Things that were so close and personal to him even Loid was not allowed to see inside.

It was just a folder, Loid told himself. It was light, so probably only a couple documents inside. Maybe another collection of poems Albrecht had written and then tossed away in self-critical shame.

The Tenno occasionally brought some of Albrecht's personal affects that they deemed Loid might find interest in. They were mostly related either to him, Euleria or literature. Nothing Loid didn't know about, just things he was surprised Albrecht bothered to keep.

Inside the folder was a single page. It was a sketch - of Loid. Drawn in the middle of a motion - he was reaching for something out of bounds of the canvas. Around his figure a mixture of flowers were hastily scribbled, Albrecht was not particularly good at natural objects. Yet Loid's face was lovingly rendered, a halo was carefully drawn around him. At the bottom of the page was what Loid assumed to be the title of the illustration - three times crossed out, four times rewritten. The fourth title simply said: Loid. Unlike the previous titles, it was carefully calligraphed. The final choice.