#this one is definitely still a wip

[terenos]

HOUSING SHOWCASE -> TEL GALEN

[danikatze]

[ID in alt text]

Another wip! It's kind of almost done :)

[losersimonriley]

Sundowning 1st chappie will be up in a few hours

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Lovelies, I really am sorry, these blorbos still have me in a freaking chokehold...

Despite the chaos of the battle, something distinct caught Ganondorf’s attention. In a sea of red hair and brown skin paired with leather and steel, in a sea of armor and white banners, there was light gold, like the pale yellow chrysanthemums Orik had gifted to Hemisi.

Orik. Link.

Link was here.

Damn that child. He’d told him to stay away. He knew the boy hadn’t listened, but to have the audacity to fight where Ganondorf himself was…

Well, he had to admit the boy had far more gumption to him than he’d realized. It was no wonder Hemisi had fallen for him. Ganondorf caught the attention of his commander. “Bring Link to me. Alive.”

[piningpercussionist]

transfem scott getting lots of support from ramona and kim in the early 2000's when shit's very taboo but they all 3 have a fire forged bond and lord if they aren't going to make sure they're all as happy as they can be because they've come this far and I dunno it just makes me happy all three of them

YES YES YES

It makes me very happy as well,,

Like I've said before. General Trans Scott enthusiast here- I love the idea of their little support network *violent coughing* I (we?) mean polycule *violent coughing* so fucking much.

Ramona I think has a bit of a more gentle hand with reassuring Scott with gender issues, but sometimes she just can't help herself from some pointed banter or teasing- how could you with someone so dense? (Said w affection)

And then Kim I think is more blunt. But like, in a good way mostly, you know? The kinda blunt that makes you snap to attention and go "Oh. Yeah that was silly of me." And if Ramona's started some sort of banter? Kim is SO piling on. Maybe sometimes she's a bit TOO blunt with it- but it's only because she's so firm in her support. She wants Scott to Get It Together- and be happier for it. So if some ribbing now and again is in order, then goddamnit she will do so! Anything to crack that shell.

And ohhh can you imagine how they would react to some transphobic bullshit?? Unholy terror would be driven into the offender before they walk off with an absurd amount of coins between them. I can feel it in my bones. Scott doesn't even have to lift a finger (if the transphobe is even noticed/processed at all, bc I honestly can see Scott just. Not realizing someone's being transphobic.) Kim giving someone a lashing with her tongue as distraction and then Ramona coming in with the hammer- BAM! Free Money! Paying literally with your life for your transphobia. A Better And Just World.

And of course (transfem Scott more specifically, here,) the way Scott would start to flourish under their support... cagey and maybe a little (perhaps a lot-) resistant to start- but Kim's blunt affirmations and no nonsense attitude for bullshit (which is what Scott insisting on "being cis" would be, c'mon now,) and Ramona's also low bullshit tolerance but less Stabby (bc I won't lie, that's probably how Kim's comments would feel,) assurances? Ough... My Heart... Be Still-

I would Kill for them, Your Honor-

(Ran out of tags so putting this in the body of the post- I am SO tired someone pls sound off if this isn't as coherent as I am hoping this is. I WAS trying to nap and get the extra sleep I desperately needed but the writing bug... it Bit Me.... only a little but enough to stop that process-)

[stardust948]

🌹🌹🌹

Ghost AU

Zuko laid wide awake on his bed still in his crisp white funeral robes. Firelord Azulon’s funeral was mere hours ago and yet it felt like the whole world had caved in on itself. Everyone mourned Azulon and praised the freshly crowned Ozai, but no one said a word about Ursa. Not father. Not the servants. Not even Azula after this morning when she taunted him. Ursa’s room was stripped bare and painting taken down.

It was like she never existed.

“Where are you Mom…” Zuko whispered. “Why did you leave me?”

A tear rolled down his cheek. Then another. Zuko buried his head into the pillow and cried. He didn’t care that it was the trait of weakness and vulnerability. No one can see him. He was alone.

Truly alone now.

Foolish boy.

Zuko flinched. Someone was here. Must be one of the servants. How did he not hear them come in?

“I didn’t give permission to enter. Leave!”

Tch. Why am I wasting my time?

Sadness quickly turned to anger as he shot up and snared. “How dare-“

The words died on his tongue. The intruder was no servant. Even with his back towards him heading for the door, Zuko knew.

“G-Grandfather…?”

Azulon turned as surprise covered his face. He was still in his sleepwear with his hair loose. But what disturbed Zuko the most was his skin. His whole body really. Nearly transparent. Like it was almost whole but not really. Caught in between.

The boy is spirit touched.

“N-No. This isn’t happening. You’re dead!”

Obviously. Azulon drew closer to the frighten boy. Do you know why?

Zuko closed his eyes and beat his head. “This isn’t real!”

Answer me boy!

Azulon’s tone left know room for argument. Zuko instantly sat up like he was drilled to by his tutors.

“H-Heart failure?”

Azulon let out a bitter laugh. Yes I supposed that would happen after ingesting POISON!

Zuko scooted back, terrified.

“What are you tal-“

Where’s your wretched mother?!

“I-I…”

She did this to me! To preserve you!

Zuko’s eyes widened. Azula was right.

Father really was going to kill him per Azulon’s request. But Mom…

I vowed to haunt that wretch for the rest of her miserable life for what she did to me. Azulon glared at Zuko. But… even the best laid plan can be modified.

“Grandfather…?”

Until you die boy. Azulon walked right towards him.

“W-Wait. Stay back!” Zuko threw a fireball at him but it merely phased through.

Or until he finally kills you.

Azulon phased right through Zuko and disappeared. The boy shivered uncontrollably. He wrapped himself in the covers then pulled his knees to his chest; teeth still clattering. It was just a dream. He’ll wake up soon.

He has to.

~*~

Sokka liked to stay busy.

Idle hands meant an idle mind as Dad would always say. There was a lot that needed to be done now that all the men left for war. Dad entrusted him to see it done. It was hard of course, but the work was a much-needed distraction.

Sokka was going mad.

When alone, he’d felt a presence hovering close by. Caught a flash of faded blue or the tail end of a hum. Worse yet, the feeling, the presence, was achingly familiar. But whenever Sokka turned around to face it, they vanished.

Dehydration. Hunger. Artic illusions. Midnight Sun madness.

The list went on. But deep down, Sokka knew what it was.

“Just show yourself already!” he yelled when the presence drew practically close that day. Tears welled up in his eyes. “Please Mom… I’m starting to forget…”

Nothing.

Sokka furiously wiped his eyes then went back to sharpening his weapon; his heart hardening with each swipe.

~*~

Katara wished she could forget.

She fainted the first time she saw her mother burned and maimed beyond recognition; her young mind was unable to process it. She screamed the second time when the wispy figure slipped into their hut in the dead of night whispering her name. Gran-Gran convinced her it was just a nightmare. After the fourth time in broad daylight, Katara was not convinced.

Sweetie please… I know you can see me.

Katara squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head.

Kya sighed. Alright. I’m… I’m sorry. This is so hard for you. I didn’t want to… Katara heard her voice crack. I’ll leave you in peace-

“NO!”

Katara threw herself in Kya’s direction. She passed through something and fell onto the snow shivering.

“Don’t go Mom! Please don’t leave me!!!”

Her face was melted and disfigured, skin charred and clothes blacken from fire and ash, but she was still her mother. Katara still loved her. Always.

“Don’t go…”

Oh my girl.

Katara became unnaturally cold again, trembling down to her soul.

I’m here Katara. I’m here...

[ebonytails]

Finally finishing up the last pride animal for the remastered versions :-)

[kheprriverse]

Been working on personal stuff lately. So here’s a doodle of a guy

[ilicythings]

still a wip, and i'm going to have to rearrange bc series 9 came out after i started this, but proud of what i've got so far

[missrosegold]

Okay okay okay so I know I tentatively put out the idea of MMA fighter!Dabi/Touya, BUT -- what about Cyberpunk!Dabi??

Think about it: the LOV is still a terrorist organization, but with cybernetic enhancements - most of them are damn near on the verge of going Cyberpsycho as it is with how much chrome they're packing.

Their fire fights with the NCPD/Militech and Arasaka are legendary and brutal; no one leaves unscathed, and even the rest of the gangs that terrorize Night City give them a wide birth - least they get pulled into a turf war with them.

Poor little you is just trying to get home after a particularly long day at your job (your hours are shit and the pay is arguably worse), and you find yourself running for cover as a gang fight breaks out between the LOV and Maelstrom.

One thing leads to another, and suddenly you find yourself looking up at a white haired man - more chrome then flesh - learing down at you with a grin so terrifying, you almost think he's gone full psycho, had hd not made any move to snap your neck.

Giving him a quick scan, you can see that he has a cybernetic arm that spits out blue hell fire, and mechanically enhanced eyes so insanely blue it's a new shade to you completely, amoung a plethora of other enhancements that make you question how he isn't a fully fledged Cyberpsycho.

You know who he is, everybody in Night City knows of the white haired pyromaniac with specialty fire resistant implants, and of how dangerous he is.

It's Dabi from the LOV. You're in trouble now.

[gen4grl]

from artistic mental breakdown to 5 wips simultaneously lmao

[forcedhesitation]

okay I redid the last astarion picture I shared a wip of because it was a) too graphic for its intended purpose b) didn't fit with the more dynamic posing of the other pieces

here is a peak at the new astarion pic & a look at the wyll & lae'zel wips

[mirrortouchedsea]

dark. that was all he had ever known. cold, dark, damp. the boy shivers in the small room, painfully alone, only a book and his magic to keep him company. he tries not to use his magic very often, though. it seemed that the people above knew when he used it and they always always always refused to give him food until he “woke up” next, if they bothered to keep track of that. maybe this time he’ll learn their lesson. the boy whispers his spell, cur memini, and creates a small light in his fingers. this is the only spell he can cast safely, too small to be noticeable by the people above. he holds his hand over the fading book on the floor. the boy can’t read the letters on the page, but this book has pictures. he flips through it again, careful of the pages that were falling apart, admiring the figure in armor who always comes to rescue the figure in the tower, cut off from the world, just like him. the boy frequently dreams of a figure in armor coming to save him, despite the years he has spent alone. dark and cold and damp. 

the room the boy lives in, the only room he has memories of, is empty besides himself and the book. sometimes the people above would give him water and stale bread to eat, and then there was a cup and a dirty plate, but otherwise it was just the boy and the book. the boy knows why the people above have locked him away, they told him that he was a freak of nature, unnatural, dangerous. but the boy could only make lights in his palm, and that wasn’t very dangerous at all. he thinks to himself that the people above are the dangerous ones, locking away a child for something like this, but he can’t say that out loud. he doesn’t want to die again. 

the boy’s stomach grumbles and he curls in on himself, the light in his palm fades out. he longs to see the sun again, to play with the other children he can hear through the ceiling, to be normal. the people above must have decided to punish him again, though, as he doesn’t remember the last time he had anything to drink, to eat. his stomach would eat through his skin and he would still wake up the next day. why can’t he just die once and for all and be rid of the pain? why is the world keeping him here? why was he even born?

the boy closes his eyes, and falls asleep. maybe this time it won’t hurt so much. 

--- 

how long has he been here? the boy doesn’t keep track of time. he knows he’s died at least a dozen times, but how long does it take for a dozen lifetimes to pass? 

--- 

a clattering on the floor wakes the boy up. the people above decided he can eat today. stale bread and water again, but better than nothing to the boy. he crawls closer to it, listening to the door. it closes and the voices disappear. where was the sound of the lock? did they forget? 

the boy scarfs down his food and water before tiptoeing up the stairs. he doesn’t hear any voices, but he needs to be careful. he doesn’t remember what the above looks like, but he needs to leave. he needs to be free. 

slowly, quietly, he opens the door. it’s dark on the other side of it, but still much, much brighter than his room ever was. he closes his eyes but keeps the door open. breathe in, and out. opens his eyes again, blinking the brightness away. pushes the door further open. steps on the hard ground outside the door. he’s so close. closes the door quietly. turns around and holds his breath. where was outside? pick a direction and go. his legs hurt. turn the corner, listen for voices. voices are dangerous, get away from the voices. whisper his spell, create a small light. keep moving keep moving keep moving. window ahead. break it? open it? is he strong enough? lift the window up. too weak. voices coming. hurry hurry hurry must get out now. whisper spell again, hand on window. break the glass and jump through it. cuts on feet cuts on legs deal with that later. voices getting louder voices shouting. run run RUN. 

the boy runs away from the building, away from his room. freedom is so close. first get to the trees, then… he hasn’t thought that far, but he will find a way. gunshots from the house. he runs faster, must get to the trees, must hide, must be free. cur memini, he whispers again, crossing into the forest. his spell can make lights and now break windows, but he needs it to protect him at this moment. run run run until the voices are quiet again. his legs are giving out, but he needs to run. he can’t die now or they’ll find him. keep running. bare feet on sticks and stones and sharp things, everything hurts but he can’t stop. he keeps running until the sun comes up. his heart beats out of his chest. 

--- 

when he wakes up he doesn’t know how much time has passed. his heart beats fast and he sits up. did they find him? he looks around. trees, rocks, a gurgling stream. he’s free. he’s free. he sighs and lays back down. how far did he run? he needs to go further. away from other people, away from anyone who might lock him up again. he sits up again and forces himself to stand and walk towards the sound of the stream. he can start there. water is important, and he might be able to get food from the little stream too. 

his first drink of the stream water is icy cold, quenching his lifelong thirst in just a few swallows. he washes his face with it, removing years of sweat and grime. he wants to sit by the stream forever if only he could, but the people will find him eventually if he doesn’t keep moving. but he allows himself a few minutes to bathe in the water, savoring the feeling of water on his skin. his stomach still growls, wanting something more filling than the freezing water of the stream, but that would have to wait. he needs to get his bearings. 

the light of the outside world is almost blinding, he realizes. the sun and the snow made it almost impossible to see anything. he should get up above the trees. can he even do that? cur memini, he says, trying to get his voice to be louder than a whisper. his feet float a few inches above the ground. he closes his eyes and says his spell again with more conviction. Cur Memini. he feels himself shooting into the air before he opens his eyes. he can see the forest stretch out for miles around him. trees covered in snow in every direction. if the old house is behind him, he should fly straight ahead, towards the forests on the mountains. tentatively, he leans forward and focuses his magic on keeping himself afloat. 

it doesn’t take much to exhaust what little magic he has, but he’s put more distance between himself and the old house and the people above now. he should be safe to rest, truly rest. but first he should find something to eat. is there anything to eat out here? something in his head tells him to look a little closer to the ground. to his left. there’s a bush full of berries. he’s never had anything but stale bread, and doesn’t know what to expect as he crushes one with his teeth. 

the sensation overtakes him for a brief moment. the berry is sweet, yet tart, and delicious. it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten and he thanks the little voice in his head for the information as he picks several more berries from the bush. the juice runs down his chin and makes him sticky, but it feels good. he feels truly alive for the first time. 

once he’s finished picking the bush clean of its fruits, he needs to find a place to rest, to stay warm. he’s shivering in the intense cold of the north, but it’s nothing he isn’t used to. the room was never very warm after all. he listens to the little voices calling out to him, guiding him towards a small cave, instructing him on how to make a small fire to warm himself up. a small rabbit brushes against his leg and he swears one of the voices is coming from it. and with the fire going, he thanks the rabbit before it hops away back into the snow. he would be roasting that same rabbit over the fire a few months later. 

the boy can’t stay in the cave forever though. as days turn to weeks turn to months, he worries that the people above are getting closer to him. they’ll put him back in that cold, dark, damp room again. he needs to keep moving. he has been practicing his magic, casting stronger spells, and he needs to be ready to fly. it's been long enough. cur memini he says holding his hand out. a rough stick with twigs tied to the end flies into his hand. it’s a poor excuse for what he understands is a broom, but it will work. he climbs onto it and focuses. cur memini cur memini cur memini. he lifts off the ground and watches as the branches of the trees get shorter and eventually he passes above the treetops. 

he takes a moment to gather his bearings. he no longer remembers the direction the house was in, but going up is his best bet of staying away from the people above. he laughs, realizing that he is the one above them now. after a moment, he flies into the mountains. the small voices change into bigger, unfamiliar ones as he gets further into the mountain range. they tell him to hide, to stay away. he doesn’t listen. they cannot be more dangerous than the humans he is running from. 

the boy lands, still exhausted from using so much magic, but he was able to travel further this time. that has to count for something, surely. he gathers some sticks and looks for another cave to make his home in. the caves remind him too much of the room he left, so he chooses to stay close to the entrance, close to the light that reminds him he is free. the fire keeps the animals away, but the voices are curious about the new presence in their woods. they make him curious too. he should stay in the cave tonight though and regain his energy. maybe he can get some small game to fill his stomach before settling in for the night. he listens for a rabbit’s voice, or maybe a squirrel, anything that would be small enough to kill with his hands. 

at last, a small fox’s voice is heard nearby. he wonders if fox will taste different from the other game he’s eaten thus far. he lifts a hand-sized rock and slinks out of the cave towards the voice. it takes a few minutes to find the source, but the fox is curled under a tree, shivering, hungry, just like him. the boy hesitates before bludgeoning it and slinging the corpse over his shoulders. there are more foxes. he is much more important. 

the fox is only the first animal he hunts in those mountainous woods. he spends several years in that forest and eventually humans settle up there as well. the boy, or rather, the man now, has made a name for himself amongst the human populations of the north. he is no longer afraid of humans capturing him and locking him up. they are still terrified of him, but now he is in control of that terror. the hunters that left his territory alive whispered tales of the great wizard owen who inhabited the mountains and terrorized anyone who had the bad luck of running into him. 

all of this is perfectly fine with owen. eventually his reputation will grow beyond himself, encapsulating atrocities that were impossible for even someone as strong as oz to commit, but that would be a problem for future owen. for now, he is still young and living in his cave on the outskirts of a small village and scaring hunters who stray too far from their boundaries. the wolves don’t like these visitors either and gladly listen to owen’s lamentations. it keeps his hands clean of the bloodshed if he isn’t casting the spell himself. the wolves don’t care for owen either, but they respect him. and that is enough for owen. 

the first of the unwanted visitors was a young man, someone who wanted to provide for his family. he pleaded with owen and the wolves to let him go and he wouldn’t cause any problems. those pleas fell on deaf ears though as owen looked the man in the eyes. won’t your family be disappointed, he asked almost innocently, you don’t have anything to show for your efforts. the man stammered a response, they’d rather i come back alive with nothing than die trying to find food. is that so, owen reached out for the man’s chin, the distance between their faces was almost nothing. y-yes, sir, please just let me go and i won’t bother you anymore. owen grinned. oh i’m sure you won’t be causing us any trouble again. the wolves stalked out of the woods, drooling at the prospect of tearing a piece of that man for themselves. owen snapped his fingers, and they came running forward, only to stop mere inches from the now trembling man. there was a suspicious yellow stain in the snow beneath him. p-p-please sir, anything you ask, it’s yours! then make sure you tell the rest of your little village that this forest belongs to the great wizard owen. the man ran off, leaving behind a hunting rifle and a ratty sack. the rifle would be of use, but the sack became tinder for his fires. 

despite the warning from that first man, hunters continued to enter into owen’s territory. and one after the other, they ran off screaming with their tails between their legs. this should have annoyed owen, that people would ignore all of the warnings and stories that had started popping up about him, but it doesn’t. their fear feeds into his magic power, only making him stronger, and that is all fine with owen. he is no longer a weak child locked in the damp, dark basement, and he never will be again. 

[tswwwit]

i love love love the truth curse fic so much, especially how dipper twists it so that he can still irritate bill with it.

it does make me think though, there was one smut fic where it was mentioned that if bill could he would rip all of dippers fantasies out of his head and use them against him.

part of me wants bill to ask for even just one or two bedroom fantasies while dipper is forced to blab the truth just so bill can abuse the fuck out of whatever idea dipper comes up with

and part of me wants the curse fixed, everything back to normal and no more truth telling. with dipper and bill relaxing after everything, maybe even a few days pass. before bill just loudly and out of the blue shouts ‘FUCK!’ as he realized he missed a great opportunity and now its too late.

I can guarantee you that Bill has that 'FUCK' moment afterwards! Turns out that too many Shenanigans in the interim kind of interrupted his train of thought - and Dipper's a little too clever to be caught by ham-handed or distracted questions. Too bad, Bill; you didn't get to pick Dipper's brain nearly as much as you wanted.

[fruchtfleisch-art]

It's been a little quiet around here, but I promise I'm still writing! This fic is going to be a 20k monster at the very least (my final drafts are always longer than my first drafts), and I've been trying to make it to the finish line this month so I can start the long, long process of shaping it into something readable. Have some snippets of weird little boys, past and present!

[hikarinokusari]

Practice, still trying to find an attire that will suit him and which I will like enough to not change every drawing. Deciding on an attire for this character is tough for me. I want to play barby with him and dress him up differently everytime.