#techincally but Not Really

[kholnt]

character design is NOT my passion it is my NEMESIS

[kyouka-supremacy]

Fixed this panel 👍

[moopermoment]

damn siffrin, you've been looping for 365 days gay?????

in stars and time is created by @insertdisc5

gray scale version below:

[soaps-mohawk]

omega’s been with them almost a year?? how did i not put that together in my head i was thinking 6ish months MAX i’m dumb

i need to know how they celebrated birthdays!! christmas?? were gaz and johnny planning a 1-year anniversary party before they left? was price planning a special dinner for the omega and him? so many thoughts™️ to be had

Yes!!! It's been...nine months? Ten months? You'd think I'd know this exactly lmaoo but yeah. The fic starts roughly end of December/early January and now we're in September-ish around the start of Fall.

Birthdays were probably a small celebration. Just them together, with a little cake and some small gifts. We haven't seen Christmas yet so that's probably going to be a small gathering as well.

I'd imagine they're going to do something to celebrate a year together. A fancy dinner out, a little party. I'd imagine 'mega doesn't want it to be a huge deal (even if it is to the guys).

[doctorsiren]

idk anything about ace attorney is it stilled called twitter in ace attorney or is it. idk lawtter

There isn’t Twitter in Ace Attorney but there’s Mobtter in MP100

[writeshite]

....okay hear me out, Geralt helping Reader escape being a virgin sacrifice by ah....helping him get rid of the virgin part 👀

Previous

Geralt doesn’t like the sorcerer who greets the two of you. Yvad Vassird, he’d introduced himself. Yvad is a relatively young sorcerer, conniving, condescending, and an ass to boot - his dark hair is neatly combed back and cropped to the sides, and his robes are a rich blue with silver detailing. The so-called temple is no better - more so a fortress, with sigils carved into every brick of the building, with a rotating guard of sorcerers watching over anything and anyone that walks in and out. He doesn’t like how they stare at you with something sinister, shrugging off the looks of disgust they throw at him.

“...your bravery is admirable, dear boy, to surrender yourself to the forces of Order for the betterment of the Continent, truly a feat.” Geralt catches the tail end of Yvad’s speech and rolls his eyes. Thankfully, the man leaves once you’re escorted to your temporary resting chambers; the room has a bed and enough magic to keep it comfortable enough. Geralt paces and checks every corner for any sort of traps, and you have to call him away from the windows when he growls at something and draws the curtains closed.

“Darling, you can glare violently at the people outside,” you quip, patting the place on the bed beside you. He reluctantly comes to sit, leaning his head against yours, thumbs rubbing circles on your hands. He helps you change into the required clothing, kissing your skin whenever he can - it’s not even clothing really, but instead a loose tunic that lays over your body. When Yvad returns, he’s accompanied by masked sorcerers, and no amount of convincing can deter Geralt from seeing you to your final moments. 

You’re led to the central altar high in the building - a massive mirror hangs above the room, and multiple other mirrors are positioned around the ceiling - when Geralt crosses the threshold, he feels his bones twist, the magic in the air is conflicting, and he wonders how you, Yvad and the other sorcerers stand without trouble. The room appears clean, but Geralt can smell the old blood as strong as it would have been the day it was spilled. Yvad has Geralt remain on the outskirts of the altar as he leads you by the hand to the altar itself, stood under the large mirror. The masked sorcerers begin to chant, raising their hands; Chaos bleeds from their fingertips, striking the smaller mirrors, darting around before coming together to the large mirror and being reflected down to you. 

The floor closest to you lights up with sigils; you glance at Geralt before runes dot your skin, and you fall to your knees. Yvad claps his hands, and the smaller mirrors tilt, focusing more Chaos onto you; your own begins to bleed from you, growing more violent as it’s pulled and pushed. Geralt is acutely aware of your screaming but is stopped by Yvad’s pinning gaze, “Interfere, and you might kill him, witcher.”

“You’re already doing that,” he hisses, proven right when you cough up blood. 

“It’s necessary,” Yvad responds. The chanting becomes quieter as Yvad takes over, hands drawing in the air; the Chaos turns into what Geralt must assume is Order. The sigils glow brighter, and your body contorts, floating in the air before a violent burst of energy is released. “FUCK! Keep it controlled!” Yvad yells.

One masked sorcerer is knocked through the window by the next wave; his screams go uncared for by Yvad. The man rolls his eyes when the others flinch, “Stay focused!” When the next wave hits more of them, you crumple to the ground, struggling to lift your head as your screams become sobs. 

Burnt flesh wafts through the air, and Geralt’s resolve breaks - the spell is already unstable with one masked sorcerer gone, so Geralt gets rid of another - the sigils flicker, and the ground shakes. Yvad turns to him, fury in his face; Geralt dodges an attack and rushes to you - surmising the focus of the spell must be well protected; he’s proven right yet again when Yvad’s magic bounces back. He alternates between shaking you lightly and patting your cheek, “Come on. Come on. Come on.”

Your skin is warm, and when your eyes flutter open, Geralt feels as though he’s staring into a flame. Geralt…?” It takes you a moment before your mind catches on, and you spring to grab his shoulders, “....you stupid, stupid man!”

“You can insult me later; now, we need to get out of here.”

Yvad laughs, “You’re going nowhere, witcher.” Yvad’s voice is close to his ear; Geralt turns and is thrown far from you and through a window, hanging off the edge. Two things happen. One - Yvad takes two steps toward him, ready to have him fall to his death - two - the sorcerer flies past him as a loud ‘NO’ echoes, and the other windows shatter. Geralt crawls back in to find whoever’s left a pile of blood and bones.

You stand at the center, hand held out, and Geralt catches you before you can topple over again, “We need to get you out of here before the others find their way up here.” You nod, steeling yourself; a portal crackles to life, leading you to Roach as the other sorcerers' steps grow closer, you open another, and Geralt has Roach gallop through with you first before following. The portal led to a safehouse you’d cobbled from a dead peer - having invested what little free time you had to ensure it remained far from the Brotherhood - Geralt catches you before you slump off Roach, and you wake hours later to him sat by your bedside.

“Geralt? I’m…I’m alive?”

“Yeah, I promised, didn’t I? We’re far from everyone else,” he replies, hand coming to caress your face, “and, considering the whole sacrifice thing fell through—”

You drag him forward before he can finish, lips slotting against his to ensure this is real and that you hadn’t died and gone to some dream amid your death. Geralt holds you, pulling you closer; you laugh with relief when you part, leaning your head against his. “I’m alive,” you sigh. “Please, never ever, do what you did back there again.”

“Hmm, no promises.” He kisses you again, leaning further into your space and laying you back on the bed. Sliding between your legs as he pushes the tunic up, his fingers stretch your ass - the Brotherhood had believed, gods know why, that virgins made for better sacrifices - you’d resolved to kiss Geralt when you could, but now? Now, you strived to be fucked.

Geralt must deem you prepared as his cock replaces his fingers - it’s an adjustment, to say the least - you wince, and he halts his movements, “Is it too much?”

“Give me…just a minute,” you groan, clenching around him, “ok…you….move again,” you mumble. He wants to move slowly for your sake, but you protest, encouraging him to move faster; you sob enthusiastically when Geralt thrusts faster, the bed creaks, and you're certain it comes close to snapping. His teeth drag across your skin, and your own senses feel elevated, ears buzzing as Geralt slams into you with more and more force. When he cums, your eyes screw shut as something, or rather a lot of somethings, crash.

Geralt chuckles, "We can replace that later." You don't ask what it is, instead chuckling alongside him.

[pixlezz]

dnd mk

i am mad unmotivated bcz of all thatz been going on in the world and thiz iz a fairly old sketch but a while ago I posted that I made mk in dnd so yar. thiz iz kinda hiz full design and i named him xiao for the sake of the dm and the other party to be able to pronounce hiz name easier

however the face and general hair style and featurez iz how i draw mk now anyway .P

[sulphuric-onyx]

Okay, bit of a long one that went from headcannon to a fic snippet as I wrote it but whatever.

So, it's a pretty common and cannon supported (from what i recall) take that Tuckington as a pairing can read eachother like picture books, they know eachothers tics, are really good at spotting them, etc.

However, I find it to be best (and very funny mostly) if taken to the hardest extreme, to the point where their weird silent communication but just looks like straight telepathy from the outside.

I like to envison this happening on Chorus because I think it would happen alot at practice and stuff, and the luitenants would be the most weirded out by it, (unlike the other Reds and Blues because honestly they're used to it), usally going something like this:

(Ps, they're all out of armour for the sake of this scenario, just dont worry about it)

Wash is watching over practice, or rather he's supposed to be, his gaze instead catching on Tucker, maybe even tracking a little further down the aqua soilders torso than it really should as he stretches, preparing for his first lap.

Tucker glances over his shoulder mid stretch, barely catching the slight shift in the height of Wash's eyeline.

Tucker's left eye twitches, and his brows pinch slightly, ("Were you just?")

Wash's eyes widen just barely, relaxing away from his usual glare at training, and it's only for a half a second---

Tuckers already grinning, ("oh you so were.")and Wash's expression snaps back, attempting to hide the small panic of being caught as fast as possible. "I was not!"

"Yeah right! My eyes are up here, Wash!" Tucker called back, the rest of the training hall pausing to look between the two like a tennis match.

"I'll make you run laps." Wash threatened in one last ditch effort.

"What? So you can get a better view!?" Tucker mocked, standing up and already making a start on said laps.

Wash restrained a groan down to a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly as he willed his face not to go red.

"Uh, sir?" Palomo questioned, suddenly beside him.

"Yes Palomo?" Wash replied, not looking up.

"What the fuck was that?" He followed up, and Wash finally glanced up to find almost the entire stadium staring at him with a confused look, all except for Tucker, who was happily running his laps around the gym.

Fuck.

[its-a-me-mango]

Duuuude everyones AU's are all so cool and well thought out and so fun to interact with, I wanna make my own one too. :3

(50 billion hours of thinking later)

It's perfect.

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

anyone who can create art that has life and energy to it and conveys/inspires emotion and bounces off whatever reference material to actually make something new and exciting you have the gift of the fucking gods and do not let any cunt tell you that technical skill or accuracy is more important than that

[shortcutohappiness]

it's so funny to me how crowley chose a first name AND a second name for himself while aziraphale just kept his own and then only out of need and on the spot he took the last part('s pronunciation) of said name to use it ALSO as his surname

[mothfaults]

Redraw of that one sillouhette Espresso art

[shou-jpeg]

Loved this shot from Kinnporsche so much. 10/10 angsty, dramatic Kim moment.

From my AU Back on the Beat. 

[fangsofivory]

so during my long art break, I took a giant leap to dm and the Curse of Strahd isnt the campaign, the Curse is the hold Ravenloft setting got over my brain.

Big enough I was researching through internet archives to find old ass small stories about NPCs.

Jander Sunstar I love you. I'm ignoring the 5e stuff bc I dont like it.

...love this old vampire so much I uh drew a scene from one of his short stories, The Quiet Place.

[an-absolute-nightmare]

if i was afraid was getting doxxed less, i would be able to talk about it more