#they’re still a WIP

[folkloristico]

A small comic inspired by an idea for the pre-canon/Company of Light era—Tritannus isn’t Nereus’ twin brother but rather Queen Ligea and King Neptune firstborn, of the same age as Politea and Daphne. He and Politea meet at the age of ten in Andros’ royal palace after Politea’s parents are killed during an outbreak from the Omega Dimension, and they become friends. At fourteen-ish years old, Daphne travels to Andros to study to become a Nymph, and here she meets them both.

Similarly to what happens to Daphne, Tritannus ‘comes back’ as the same age as when something bad happens to him (*spoiler*). He still ends up being somewhat of a villain, but the events of season 5 instead take place shortly after SotLK because of the political instability that surfaces after Domino is restored.

Before the Fall of Domino, however, the three of them are quite close friends, and nothing bad happens… for a while

[chaotic-mystery]

What do you guys wanna see from me? I’m currently avoiding the graveyard (my inbox) and I’m sat for requests once more 🖤

[sofiaruelle]

Would you dance, if i asked you to dance? 😫🫣

A wip for now,,,,

[childrenofcain-if]

going to finish a scenario about MC leaving hickeys on the ROs neck before diving back to the AU 🫡 will be posting the snippets of the latter soon as well 🫣

[pigdemonart]

The boys’ parents, Marisol and Horacio! They are both super normal. Just a pair of morally unclear adults who love each other veeeeeery much.

The little comic is mostly uncannon, just for funnies. What IS canon is Marisol’s family judges her profusely on her taste in cryptid boyfriends.

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[gaydexvocaloid]

so there’s this game…… .. …

[roseandgold137]

dick: dude get out of here the building is actively collapsing

tim, genuinely never had to consider Nightwing could die before, three seconds from a mental breakdown while trying to pull dick (like twice his size minimum) out of said building: ??? jump out this window with me

[maladaptivewriting]

what are we reading this week? i need something new

[plutoids-thoughts]

a little decepticon autobot tango 😌😌

My first wip post of the year aaaaaaaaa happy new year guys enjoy these two old idiots in love

[zero1qn2]

a collection of weird pathologic people

[snowyroads]

got me thinking things….

(this song is on Joe’s playlist btw…🤨😼)

[rottengurlz]

Who knows when I’ll ever finish my intros but here is the pictures I edited of leona and audra I am sooooooo normal about them. if u even care

[miwiromantics]

A wip of one of my favourite wlw couple

[childrenofcain-if]

Clingy D wasn't something I knew I needed. For research purposes, how would that fare though, author

the texas heat clung to D as they sat on the back porch of their grandfather’s old farm. the air smelled of earth and sunburnt grass, a scent that had grown oddly comforting in the months since they’d moved back.

the farm was quiet now, save for the low hum of cicadas and the occasional bark of a stray dog wandering by the fence. the peacefulness suited D—most days. but tonight, it was unbearable.

their phone sat on the wooden table in front of them, face down like it was a guilty party. they’d told themself they weren’t going to look at it anymore.

just leave it, rook, calm down.

stop being so needy, rook.

get your shit together, rook.

you’re always the recurring car crash, rook, the common denominator.

but their eyes flickered toward the phone anyway.

the truth sat under their ribs like a splinter: it had been three days since you’d texted anything more than a brief, polite response to a link they’d sent, and weeks since you’d called. three days of D’s mind running circles around itself, spiraling into every worst-case scenario it could conjure. and they were losing their grip. their fingers tapped restlessly on the armrest of the chair, their boot scuffing against the railing.

maybe you’re busy, they told themself for the fiftieth time that evening. new york is a big place. MBA programs are hard. you’ve got new friends now, fancy urbane friends who wear suits and drink wine like it’s water. you don’t have time to call your idiot partner who still wants to live in their old farmhouse down south and smells like hay and diesel these days.

that last thought stung, and D flinched like they’d spoken it aloud.

they picked up their phone and stared at the screen, willing your name to appear. a new message. a missed call. anything. they’d tried calling you twice yesterday but hung up before it even rang.

the phone buzzed suddenly in their hand, cutting through the peacefulness like a blade. D jumped, nearly dropping it in their haste to answer.

“hey,” they said, too quickly, the word coming out rough and broken, betraying how much they’d been waiting for this. they winced at their own pathetic eagerness.

“hi,” you replied. your voice was warm but tinged with something D couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t joy.

there was a pause, one of those long, awkward ones that stretched out like a wound neither of you wanted to clean out.

“why haven’t you replied to my texts?” you asked finally. your tone was light, sure, but the edge was unmistakable.

D blinked, thrown off-guard. “why haven’t you called me?”

the words left their mouth before they could stop them, sharper than intended, spilling out like blood from a clean incision. the silence on your end was deafening.

“excuse me?” you said after a moment, your voice now tight.

D pushed on, reckless now, the spiraling in their chest too loud to ignore.

“it’s been weeks,” they said, their voice rising despite themself. “weeks since you actually picked up the phone to call me. i’m supposed to be okay with a couple of dry texts here and there? a couple of ‘how are yous’ like you’re checking in on a goddamn houseplant? what am i even supposed to do with that? do you even want to talk to me anymore?”

“of course i want to talk to you!” you snapped, louder this time, frustration apparent in your tone. “but you’ve been so distant during our texts. i didn’t know if you even wanted to hear from me if you got too busy with the farm renovations.”

“distant?” D barked out a laugh, harsh and humorless. “i’m not the one out there living some shiny new life in new york city with shiny new friends. don’t talk to me about being distant when you’re the one who left!”

“oh wow, so it’s my fault now?”

“isn’t it?”

the words hung between you like a noose, both of you too angry to let go and too hurt to say anything else.

“this isn’t fair,” you said finally, your voice breaking just slightly, and D hated that they heard it, hated that they caused it. “you don’t get to put this all on me. you knew what this was going to be like. you knew it would be hard. you could’ve just come with me until renovations were done for the farm. you’re the one who insisted on supervising everything to stay in that stupid place.”

“don’t fucking call the farm stupid,” D shot back, their voice trembling now, but they couldn’t stop. “besides, i’m here, aren’t i? waiting by the damn phone every night like some... some pathetic—” they couldn’t finish the sentence.

“then maybe stop waiting!” you yelled, having had enough of it. “if this is so hard for you, maybe you should’ve just come here with me!”

the line went dead.

D stared at the phone in their hand, unblinking, as though willing it to come back to life. the silence that followed was heavier than the summer heat, heavier than anything they’d ever known.

they stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the porch, and paced back and forth like a caged animal.

“unbelievable,” they muttered under their breath, the anger bubbling up again. “they hang up on me? after all this? after—”

the thing about D was that they wouldn’t—couldn’t—express their emotions in words a lot of the time. sure, they could write about it, but writing about it was different than actually saying it. so these emotions were usually spelled out in other ways.

a bloody fist. a slow song. a naked dance.

but this time, the anger burned out as quickly as it came, leaving behind nothing but the ache. the ache they always carried, the one they could never name but always felt. they sank back into the chair, burying their face in their hands.

you’re going to lose them, a small voice whispered in the back of their mind, insidious and cruel. you’re going to push them away forever. they’ve grown tired of you because you’re too much. you’re always too much, rook.

the thought made them sicker than a glass of cheap liquor.

D picked up their phone again, their thumb hovering over your name in the call log. they could call you back. they could apologize. they could beg.

they pictured you in new york, surrounded by skyscrapers and lights, people who had never set foot on a farm in their life and who probably never will. they imagined themself there, awkward and out of place, fumbling with subway cards with their doc martens too scuffed, their drawl too thick and alien.

they never belonged in san francisco. they never belonged in new haven. they’d never belong in new york city.

but they’d go. if you asked, they’d go in a heartbeat. they’d go and make themself fit into your world if that’s what you wanted. they’d camouflage themself all over again like they did in california and connecticut. even if they hated it, they’d still try.

or maybe you could come back. just for a little while. they’d show you the stars again, the ones you couldn’t see in the ever-polluted cities. they’d hold you close and tell you they loved you, over and over, until you believed it.

but for now, they’d wait by the phone like dogs waited for their owners on the front porch—all day, and then the next.

[elviraaxen]

Albin is getting a new character sheet since I draw him a bit different now \o/ even his own logo!

[mpsansy]

I am not okay, but I’m having fun