#sorry i have posted in awhile

[fluffa-mocha-bean]

I get bored and draw her~ (⑅∫°ਊ°)∫

[poppedbubblgum]

It’s Raph postin time methinks

[josukespimphand]

Haven't drawn her in forever ah.

[aintnopartylikeaprideparty]

as someone who has experienced abuse from someone with a personality disorder, it's actually incredibly easy to not dehumanize everyone with a personality disorder. i've seen people do borderline eugenic rhetoric surrounding people who have npd, aspd, bpd or other personality disorders, and then be like "I'M allowed to say these things because i'm a survivor, and if you disagree you are hurting abuse victims."

and frankly? i'm tired of it. as an abuse survivor i'm here to say that you're NOT allowed to turn into a fucking eugenicist the moment you're hurt by someone with a personality disorder.

does hurting and belittling other people who happen to have the same disorder as your abuser, people that are already suffering and that are already looked down on by society, bring you any healing? does it bring you peace?

Being hurt by someone isn't an excuse to hurt others that you feel justified in lashing out on. you're literally in control of your own actions,

you may claim to be making a safe space for abuse survivors, but i will never feel any solidarity with you, and i ESPECIALLY don't feel safe with you considering i might have a personality disorder.

you are excluding a large amount of abuse survivors in the name of "advocacy". a lot of people with personality disorders developed one or multiple due to heavy abuse. in the aim of creating a safe space, you are excluding the ones who need a safe space the most.

[disgustinggf]

sending me death threats is weird because you're just making me horny. Come over

[alicornze7]

Silly guys goin' on silly adventures:]

@rorydrawsandwrites's puppeteer au but the only difference is that jax gives consent

My contribution to this wonderful au has been long overdue:')

Rambling in tags ehe (cw: ribbun:p)

Well maybe it's not the only difference

[cornkernelle]

Three age periods of the Bastard himself!

Unripe to growing, Banana Eel was originally just a cursed child whom wandered from house to house- until he eventually found himself on the sea. He found work in it, though he often got into trouble for stealing stock and being a general nuisance. One run-in with pirates, and he was changed forever. Felt quite inspired by their greed and glory.

Then, a few decades in the future. Much more browned and ripened- partly by his age but much more by his curse. There was a side effect he discovered very late into his life, and it was that his body ripening (and further down, degrading/rotting) is dependent on how often he used it... and well, he uses it a lot.

His later years focus on getting rid of the curse, as it got hard to live the same way he did before.

[princescar]

i head cannon matsuda to be asexual

Hes just like me fr

[snowaftermidnight]

brian doodle from class :3 idk which one i like more so im posting both

lyrics are from wine red by the hush sound (transcribed under cut) ignore that i wrote some of them wrong lmao

repeating in pencil: Who shot that arrow in your throat? Who missed the crimson apple? It hung heavy on the tree above your head.

border: This chaos, this calamity. This garden once was perfect. Give your immortality to me, I'll set you up against the stars.

[luvmydogzvm]

H.S teacher Spideypool AU

It’s the first day of school and Peter had just dismissed his last class for lunch. With a long exhale, he flopped in his chair so hard it spun a bit and drifted off to the right, nearly smacking him into the wall that hung a calendar dedicated to kitten scientists that was left by the previous teacher. He keeps forgetting to take it down. Till then it’s stuck in June with an orange tabby covered in ash from a failed experiment. He has no excuse why he hasn’t at least turned to the corresponding month. His head tilted back with his neck resting against the top back of the chair, staring up at the acoustic ceiling, particularly at a tile that has a mysterious orange stain.

Peter’s first class went pretty smoothly, if he does say so himself, some mishaps, but that was expected. His second class was also the same, learning from the first period, there were near to no mishaps then. The same goes for the rest of them, so why was Peter slumped in his chair exhausted you ask? Well, while he was prepared with his introduction, lesson plans, and icebreakers, he just didn’t factor in the energetic and rambunctious students. He had no idea how he could forget such a significant detail. It was to be expected really.

Peter inhaled deeply before sitting up again to let out another sigh through his mouth. “It’s your first day Peter, you knew his job was not going to be that easy.” Peter is in his late twenties and that isn’t considered to be that old, but not too young either, so you would think he could catch up with them, right? Flat out wrong, because Peter was getting up and heading to the teacher's lounge to make himself a coffee that came out watery. Using some creamer from tiny plastic cups that he scavenged from the back of a cabinet.

“Are those still good?” Mr.Rivera– Peter reads off his district I.D–asks when walking in.

“Dunno and don’t wanna. I had freshmen for the last two periods and I need anything with caffeine. Expired or not,” Peter poured in a third one before stirring it in.

Mr. Rivera sipped from his travel mug before he spoke. “Understood. Though some advice, bring your own. Coffee is shit here.”

Peter took a sip from his sticky foam cup and smacked his lips afterward, “Eugh, All I can taste is tap water and sadness.” he said, his upper lip involuntarily curling as he stared daggers at the nasty coffee.

Mr.Rivera let out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, it does that. I’m Abigail Rivera, 9th grade algebra,” he introduced himself and extended his arm out to shake Peter's hand.

“And I’m Sorry.” Peter said in return, taking his hand and giving it a shake. The side of his lip curled when he got a laugh from the man, “Peter Parker, 9th grade bio and 12th grade chemistry.”

Dropping Peter's hand, he rested his own on his hip. “Gotcha, you’re the newbie replacing Mrs.Newbury?”

Peter nodded while lifting his cup to his lips and drinking his coffee, which didn’t taste any better or worse. He didn't know how to feel about that.

“Her retirement was long awaited. I think she actually stopped teaching three years before and had just made the kids watch Bill Nye The Science Guy.”

Peter mirrored Mr. Rivera's stance as he lowered his cup from his lips. “Oh, Love that guy. Guess that means I’ve got competition huh?”

“Definitely,” Mr. Rivera chuckled. "They still sing his name. But don’t worry, you are young, so you’ll probably get some attention.”

“Really?”

Mr.Rivera, Peter will only ever address him because even if they are colleagues the man has gray hairs from his head to his long stubble, nodded. His aunt May have raised him right. “You are the youngest, and every teacher is married and has kids. Well, maybe not them all, but the majority. There's this one the kids really like. He's got the attitude and humor of a high schooler, so he fits in with the kids—has his own table, actually.”

Peter’s eyebrows perked. He had his fair share of favorite teachers, but he never had any that he ate with—he ate with his friends. Why am I clarifying myself? But seeing other students eating with them? Sure, but having their table, though, maybe that's a little too much.

“Talking about lunch, I'm going to head down there right now. You?”

“Nah, the Mrs. packs me one.” He dangles the most boring style lunch box known to man. Peter thinks it puts his Spider-Man one to shame. “If you see him—trust me, you will—try not to stare.”

Peter raised a brow. “Got it. Usually mine does too, but I was cutting close to being late so I couldn’t stop by any convenience stores,” Peter had finished his sad excuse for a coffee and tossed the cup into the bin that was by the door. He walked towards it, about to leave, but stopped to look back at the confused Mr.Rivera. “I’m Mrs.” He said with a slight grin and left, hearing himself getting another laugh from Mr.Rivera.

On the way to the cafeteria, Peter reflected on his interaction with Mr.Rivera. Saying he made a friend seemed a little too early to say— not to mention desperate, he thinks—but he made a good impression on someone at least, and he could live with that. Then, he reflected on Mr.Rivera. The man looked good for his age. The married man was tall, maybe a foot taller than Peter and he dressed exactly like Peter’s old geometry teacher did when he was a student. A sky blue dress shirt with navy blue dress pants that hugged his legs so snugly that Peter remembered people Mr.Rivera’s age still go to the gym. Or maybe he goes outside, he did have a good tan on him. “Lucky Mrs.Rivera,” Peter muttered to himself before he pushed through the double doors that led to the cafeteria and the noise of chatty youth.

He made his way to the canteen and waited for a student to get their lunch before he walked up to grab a tray. Suddenly, a ladle was shoved in his face, causing him to stumble back and look up wide eyed at the ladle handler.

“End of the line is over there.” She used her ladle direct Peter, he nearly ducked his head. “I ain't dealin’ with none of you line cutters,” a voice too deep and raspy for any woman told Peter. He blinked in response, trying not to falter at the sight of the large lunch lady that looked like she'd dealt with more than just line cutters. Peter had to fight his flight response, which was telling him to go to the back of the line.

Fixing his glasses, which had nearly fallen off his nose, Peter attempted to clarify himself. “Ah no, I'm not a—”

“No?” The woman somehow managed to sound deeper, scarier, and taller too, or Peter was crouching in slight fear.

He quickly patted around his breast pockets, reached into his blazer, took out his teacher's I.D., and showed the women. Swallowing before he spoke. “I’m a—a teacher! Not a student. Though I'm flattered,” he gave a nervous laugh, but it failed to be one and instead, he cleared his throat. He's 28, he should not be having a voice crack.

The giant woman leaned back and her expression changed completely. Ladle safely out of the way of any faces. “Oh! Teacher! Mr. Parker?” She read his name. “Sorry, but you have the face of a baby’s bum. Oh, but the body of a twig! You should eat more, let me serve you sweetie,” before Peter could say, “You don't need to,” a tray was shoved into Peter's hands that had what looked to be everything that was being served. “Enjoy!” Peter looked up to see the giant woman have a giant grin that flashed him a few of her silver teeth.

“Thank you,” Peter squinted his eyes at her name tag. He needed to update his prescription. “Ms. Johnson.” He looked up at her with what he hoped was a smile that didn't show his fear of the woman and turned to leave with his quite hefty tray. He darted for the double doors he entered through—hoping to hurry back to his classroom and eat before lunch ended—when he passed by a large table that was the loudest of the bunch. He stopped in his tracks and took a look because, from the side of his eye, there looked to be a real buff kid—Nope not a kid, Peter corrected himself. Just a big broad-shoulder man sitting with a bunch of teens ranging from tiny freshmen to seniors. The man’s body looked out of place from the children. His silhouette was reminiscent of an old high school bully of Peter's. The only difference is that instead of a varsity jacket and a pair of jeans, the man wore what looked like a black and red compression shirt and a matching red pair of slim-fit gym shorts. So fit, that Peter wondered if it was just barely meeting the dress code.

Oh and the obvious scarring covering every inch of the man that Peter could see, but he wasn't so focused on that. Through the patchy skin, he admired how muscular he was. Eventually his suspicions of him wearing obvious gym attire, his eyes trailed down the man's chest and Peter saw a whistle and the bright blue lanyard around his neck which meant he was a teacher and not some student. Peter mentally sighed in relief—he wasn't trying to get fired or get called ‘The Weird Teacher’ on the first day by looking inappropriately at a student.

This guy seemed more lively than the teachers he'd seen, especially himself. Maybe even more of a student than a teacher by his manners, eating with his mouth open and laughing loudly. Peter guessed the scarred man was in his early forties. He doesn't look too old, but not too young either.

Peter hadn't realized he was staring when the whole table was staring back at him. Those whose backs weren't turned were now. The tight shorts-wearing man was also looking at him blankly.

“Mr. Parker?” A student spoke up, probably questioning why their science teacher was just staring at a bunch of kids and a teacher. Peter did not blame him. He bet on his life he looked like a creep. Great first impression on his future students too, nice going Peter. And the Weird Teacher award goes to…!

Peter was about to say something, he didn't know what, but his mouth opened though the words that came next were not from him.

“You've got a problem Mr?” A male student, who was sitting next to the oh so fit-and-even-fitter clothing-wearing teacher, had stood up with his hands flat on the table as some sort of support or intimidation stance—Peter wasn't sure, probably the latter.

Now Peter is an adult, but the kid was taller and bigger than the others, even compared to Peter he was probably three of him in width. The buzz cut was not helping him look any different than a prisoner. He caught something from the boy's neck—Oh my God, no way that's a tattoo.

“What? No, no! Sorry, I didn't mean to—Just uh, couldn't help myself and noticed you were just sitting here, with them,” he cleared his throat. He jerked his chin toward the other teacher. “I was uh trying to figure out whether you were a teacher or just a special case of a super senior.” He gave a nervous chuckle, his eyes darting away as he used his index finger to push up his glasses.

Some, if not most, of the students from the table eyed him suspiciously. Peter couldn't help but notice a glint of protectiveness in their eyes and from the air around them. Could it be all these kids where this guy's body guards? He could probably take some of the smaller ones. Wait, you are not fighting children!

As Peter was trying to convince himself that he does not need to defend himself like he is reliving his own highschool experience, he saw the scarred man stand up.

“Would you believe me if I say that I get that a lot?” The man said with a grin at the end. Peter saw how the scars stretched and wrinkled at the sides of his lips. “Alright, hold your fire kids! This guy looks like bully food—I don't think there's anything you can say that this guy hasn't heard yet.”

“No Offense, Wade, but if you’re talking about the language back in your day, we can definitely think of better insults for Bobble head over here than just four-eyes.” A girl with mostly black hair and pink highlights spoke up. Peter wonders if her parents know just how much eye shadow is on her face.

“Bobble head, that's a new one.” Peter wasn't the type to over use his teacher powers and get very offended. Peter had to admit this generation was a whole new breed and he couldn’t help but be impressed...

[pinktwinkiezoppo]

Average Ben 10 fan:

[houseofdoodles]

That one Twitter meme.

[ricecat-sdvx]

its sanada saturday... so i have to draw him

[skilled-plaque]

I have more art to give cool artists on here!

This oc is @luna-vixen-art's, I feel like since he's a drummer, Samuel might get along with him since he plays the guitar lol

[hyena-frog]

Not to sound ungrateful but why is the 10th anniversary edition so boring looking?

Like it's just the same. But gold now. 🥱

Give me an illustration edition... A full graphic novel adaptation announcement... Anything! Please my crops are dying.

Plus this is the UK publisher. Does Del Rey not have anything planned? I haven't heard a peep. The 10th anniversary of one of your extremely popular series is a big opportunity to make money off loyal fans. Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?

[mint-termsandconditions]

Rope MF is one of the best Kirby OCs I’ve seen in a while. I love how he simultaneously is silly but also not a joke.

I can’t tell if you actually mean it or if it’s a joke that’s flying over my head, but thank you!!!

Focusing on the topic:

He is no joke, my guy swings on rope 24 hours a few days a week. Like I said in my previous post, probably have a crazy sleeper build.

Like if Bandana Waddle Dee was able to crack the planet at the beginning of his career, just imagine what Rope MF could do

Going into Rope MF origins when being created:

It’s funny you say that their not a joke because originally that what they were!

Rope MF was a joke character in a game concept I had where Kirby, King Dedede, and Meta Knight were all captured and Bandana Dee had to save the day.

It would’ve been a turned-based rpg where you had different waddle dees to join your party and Rope MF was one of them. Because while I was looking at the different types of waddle dees I just found it funny that swinging waddle dee was a type of waddle dee. Rope MF would’ve been one of the weakest member of your party because all he had was a rope, and you can’t do much with that. But then I grew fond of the idea of if you had him in your party the whole time, and if you complete his side quests he’d be one of your most powerful asset (imagine Terry from Lisa the Painful).

This was the first ever drawing of them:

This was the second drawing when Bandana Dee completes his arc of not being ashamed of being a waddle dee. He then goes on an entire rant about how each Waddle Dee was special, and I included Rope MF because I thought it was funny:

I lowkey became attached to Rope MF and decided to make them their own character backstory and all, but they’re mainly here to explain their love of ropes

Here’s a little bonus comic of the aftermath of the Megaton Punch:

Rope MF never changes and I love him for it