#sorry im mad lmao

[orpheuslament]

"im so tired of dog/cannibalism/religious metaphors" then write something different & share it with the world. do it. if youre so special & so talented. at least the ppl writing cliché stuff are writing

[slowburncowboy]

[smokbeast]

Papyrus sketches from my book the other day!

I like to think papyrus is serious and can become angry when he wants to be, but he’s such a nice and genuine sweet character he wouldn’t want to show that to the character or others.

[messiahzzz]

[dvnieldraws]

daffodils

[romatito]

forgive the sketchy mess but i watched potc 3 high off my ass after eating an edible with my fiancé and i think it permanently altered my brain chemistry. bc now im only thinking about pirates again ✌️🫥

(this isnt any part of an au or anything i just. needed to draw this interaction between these three. im already cooking up a completely different pirate au and this scene does Not exist in it all lol.)

[sparrowchute]

Happy pride month!!!! I provide nothing but doodles im sorry in advance

(I use she/her for both Hofnarr and Gonne, pls be respectful of that in tags/reblogs!!)

[yeyinde]

someone say creepy regency price x maid?

p!link: https://xhamster.com/videos/maid-getting-fucked-hard-14510307

like. i grew up with the word skedaddle thrown abouts pretty liberally here and there. but never really had a mental image in my head for what it kinda looked like. until now. because my god. did she just skedaddle on outta there, hey

but basically the whole vibe, yeah. i want it to be ultra creepy. i want him to give you a queasy feeling in your stomach whenever he's around lmao

like he makes you clean his desk (while he's sitting in his chair), with an obvious hard-on. probs gropes you, too. doesn't even try anymore to make it seem like something proper. bends you over the desk (a la the above) and then makes you clean up the mess all over again when you're done all with his cock still out, drinking scotch and smoking a cigar. totally casual as if he wasn't making you stammer out bible passages about premarital sex and sin in the evening while him and his wife watch you humiliate yourself. condemning your illiteracy for poor character instead of, you know, having to take care of a family as the sole breadwinner.

he's a scoundrel. def says, "i pay you, which means i own you, love." or, "if you don't like it, you can always leave" knowing full well you have mouths to feed and no one else will hire you because he blacklisted you in almost every surrounding county. like, gross. so, so gross. literally views you as his property because his wife decided this little street urchin was less likely to steal her gems over the rest 🙄

[dovewingkinnie]

sometimes i think about michael and i wonder "what if he was silly" i mean have you seen the minigame he's in, he's just happily strolling down the street and everyones super happy to see him thats a whimsical man right there!! idk what hes like in canon maybe hes silly in canon too but definitely not in the way im doing

[kagoutiss]

green beetle black beetle

[ghostycheese]

Hank is canonical older than jeb

[lotus-lamps]

in the moment it was deeply traumatizing but in hindsight (and by hindsight i mean like five minutes later) this was probably one of the funniest things i ever experienced

[trans-axolotl]

there are so many small ways that being institutionalized for months impacted me that keep popping up, even a year and a half later. i didn't realize how much it mattered to me to watch the seasons change and flowers start to grow and leaves start to change colors until i spent months confined inside where all we saw every day was grey walls, grey floors, cling paper over our windows so we couldn't look out and our only view other office buildings and construction.

and now it's spring and the crocuses are blooming and i notice them more than i ever did before, and think about everyone i love who's still inside and think about what it's like to have color and fresh air and life denied from you for months and years. i think about all the small ways i tried to bring color into the hospital--origami cranes lined up on windowsills, and decorations for holidays and all these little acts of joy that felt so precarious because at any moment they could be taken away.

i don't know if i will ever stop being angry (not while there are so many people i love locked up right now, not while asylums + prisons still stand) but the daffodils are blooming and the days are brighter and i wish i could bottle this up and send my loved ones a little taste of freedom

[xxlady-lunaxx]

obanai and the thing about him hating praise towards his scar+obamitsu

obanai sat, hands fidgeting on his lap. his bandages rested on his shoulders where kaburamaru was usually perched—the snake was curled on his arm now, diligently watching. somehow, it felt like obanai had been stripped naked. the cool air against his entire face, the lack of restriction when he moved his jaw, it felt unnatural, almost. he might as well be more comfortable without clothes than without his mask. he wished mitsuri would speak. but they’d been sitting in silence for a while and, though he could feel her gaze on him, he couldn’t discern it. finally, after what felt like forever, he forced his eyes to flick back up.

mitsuri was sitting still, hands curled on her knees. her expression was one obanai hadn’t seen on her before, but pretty nonetheless. except he couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate it now. not when his entire being seemed formed of anxiety and he was barely containing himself from squirming. it was all he could do to not jump up and run far, far away. but he was trying. he wanted to stay. for mitsuri.

noticing his attention, mitsuri composed herself. her brows were furrowed, but they relaxed slightly as she smiled at him. her cheeks were their natural rosy pink, and they puffed up with her effort to say something. in a way, she was just as worried as obanai. anyone could tell it was a touchy subject.

after a moment, she mustered up the courage to move closer to him. abandoning the comfortableness of the cushion she’d been sitting on to sit directly in front of obanai. with a quick affirmation, her hands slipped under his hair, cupping his cheeks. her thumbs traced the edges of his scar, sending a shiver down his spine.

“iguro-san…” she whispered. despite the softness of his name on her tongue, it cut through the silence. obanai jolted, more surprised by her speaking than her touch.

“y-yes?” he asked, straightening. he felt like he was being called out. her fingers burned against him where skin met scar. he wished she wouldn’t touch it. as if, by doing so, the filthiness of it all would transfer to her like a disease. he felt guilty, even. allowing her to do this. allowing her to act so caring to someone who didn’t deserve any bit of it.

mitsuri’s eyebrows dipped down again, her expression a mellowed bittersweet. she let her hands fall, resting them on top of obanai’s. she squeezed gently, her skin soft as her fingers soothed him. “you shouldn’t have to hide this… you’re… very pretty, iguro-san,” she murmured. her voice was oh, so quiet. and, for the first time in his life, obanai hated it. not her voice, itself. but it was wrong. her mouth forming those words. here, now. with her gaze tracing the years filled of agony on his face.

unable to help it, obanai jerked away. he slipped off his cushion, nearly tumbling down. he managed to settle on the floor, the pillow a distance between them. his fingers knotted into the fabric of his pants. there was a sharp, belated gasp, sounding sweet despite everything. obanai couldn’t find it in himself to apologize. instead, he choked out a shaky, “i’m… not… pretty. it’s not pretty.”

“i… iguro-san,” mitsuri tried. but today was a day for firsts. so obanai interrupted her.

“what happened to me wasn’t pretty. none of it was pretty.” obanai’s throat felt hoarse, his words gravelly.

mitsuri stumbled. she hesitated. then, tentatively: “i didn’t mean…”

obanai shook his head. his hair rustled. his bandages slipped. kaburamaru was suddenly on guard. he hissed, but obanai was quick to coax him away. petting the snake gently, vaguely comforted as he soothed his friend.

“iguro-san… i’m sorry… i meant”—mitsuri looked down, her action only visible from the way her braids shifted. obanai was avoiding looking at her—“i meant that nothing could… get in the way of you being perfect.”

the words tasted bitter in the air. “i’m not perfect, either, kanroji.” obanai spoke flatly. he couldn’t understand what mitsuri couldn’t comprehend. but he felt almost sorry for her. that he was nothing she wished he was. he was far from perfect.

“you are,” mitsuri insisted. before obanai could interject, she added, “perfection doesn’t have a solid definition. some people think ‘perfect’ means their ideal person. some people think it doesn’t exist. but i think that what makes a person perfect is that they’re them. it can come in so many varieties. and you’re one of them, iguro-san. i’m sorry i came off as… insensitive, earlier. but this is what i meant.”

finally, obanai looked up. he was gaping, he knew. a flicker of amusement passed by mitsuri’s eyes. she must enjoy playing games of pretend. it took obanai several moments to speak. because he almost wanted to believe it. but he knew, as a fact, that she was only amusing herself. amusing both of them.

“you’re wrong,” he said. he pushed enough confidence into his words, allowing them to taste strong as they rolled passed his lips. “i wish- i’m sure we both wish. that what you said was true. but it’s not. if you knew- if you’d seen… you would realize. you’d agree with me.”

only a beat of silence, this time. mitsuri was indignant. “perfect people don’t have to do everything right, all the time, iguro-san. we’ve all done stuff we regret. we’ve all done bad things before,” she said firmly. she looked like she wanted to move closer but was holding herself back for his sake. he let himself appreciate it.

“that’s not it. it’s different. it’s more than just something i did.” obanai returned to staring at the ground. his fingers itched to rewrap his bandages. “it’s worse.”

“it couldn’t be,” mitsuri said quietly. “if you didn’t even do it, then—“

“you just- you don’t get it!” obanai snapped, abruptly. his head jerked back up so he could look at her. his fingernails dug into the palms of his hand. “you wouldn’t understand! just- just stop! stop trying to pretend that i can be a better person, when it’s written in my god damn blood that i can’t! you’re just- you’re the perfect one, okay? i can’t compete! i don’t want to! so stop acting like i ever could!”

mitsuri was stunned, her eyes wide. but her surprise seemed purely on his outburst, shying away from his words. why wouldn’t she just let it go? accept that he could never be anything good? he hadn’t anticipated this when he’d worked up the idiocy to show her his scar. he’d almost hoped she’d be scared away. or, at the very least, finally see his flaws. realize he isn’t as great as she thinks he is. and yet all she can muster to understand is that none of it is a good memory.

when the silence stretched on, obanai’s shoulders slumped. he hated that she refused to see it. but he hated himself equally, if not more, for pushing it all onto mitsuri. as if he wanted her to carry his own burden. this was all so stupid. he never should’ve done this.

he turned away, making a quick work with retying his bandages, the movements precise and practiced. when he spoke this time, his voice was considerably quieter. almost meek. “please, kanroji,” he mumbled. “i’m sorry. please forget any of this happened.”

then he stood. he heard her calling out, maybe following him too, but he forced the temptation of her voice away. replacing it with the shock on her face instead. allowing his guilt to guide him out and away. kaburamaru moved back to his usual place as obanai rushed home. but this was how it should be. kaburamaru on his shoulders, his bandages wrapped tightly around his jaw. tucking away and repressing everything that shouldn’t be shown. the only evidence of his visit was mitsuri, who was left standing by the doorway. he could only hope she’d heed his advice and forget what had happened. it was only for the best, after all.

[cloverkingsmith]

doodling this made them hurt a little less so I think the transfer actually worked

[hellomayu]

if only we didn't pretend we were fine