#two days of chipping away at this ;<;< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[wingedqueenlynx]

An Arkham Survivor comic page!? This took me feckin a few days and I'm finally finished ;<;

Well, here's Foxy unknownly wandering into a trap set by Dr. Wikkan. :,D

Overall I'm proud who this came out :3c

Dr. Wikkan is too much of a menace fr

[tumbly-s]

Trigun body horror week day 5 — LIMBS

[kingofanemptyworld]

anyone else enamored by the thought of Ichigo learning Spanish because of Grimmjow or is that just me

[surreal-duck]

silly thing but this might be my fav one ive drawn of him so far i think :'> other doodle for scaling ignore that

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things and such~

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I am like completely spiraling without the structure, deadlines, and social life of school BUT it’s really easy to ignore that spiral day to day so Also grad school was psychological torment for other reasons

[bluecubeblues]

omiiigawshhhh THEY ARE SO FRIEND SHAPED

little guys. such blorbos.

anyways why is circe afraid flying?

★ PREV | FIRST | NEXT ★

[courtneydeservesbetter]

When your boss asks you and your work team for updates but your coworker hasn’t done shit and is still the first to answer all the questions. Girl you haven’t done anything- stop answering for the group! You have nothing to update!

[b4kuch1n]

been scribblin with the dip pens to prepare for inking the next comic (yuuto⏫’s “origin story” kind of basically) and wow turns out I can do anything I want forever

yuuto’s new friends names of amy and linh >:]c

[bunnyb34r]

I slept for 20 hours 😭😭😭 what is wrong with my fucking body man

I mean I know it's cfs/me, and fibro, working at 4am, and poor diet but come on man 😩

[chiprewington]

i love you mr. revvington

[sluckythewizard]

SHHH SH HEYYY HEY DONT TELL ANYONE BUT... ive been workin on smth since BITB came out..... itsa lil musical animatic involvin kian and becky.... ITS NO WHERE NEAR DONE YET but loooook look im puttin lil screenshots under the cut. its supposed to go along with Am I In Heaven? by King Gizzard n the Lizard Wizard. infact yknow what cmere come sit with be bc ALOT of songs from the 'IM IN YOUR MIND FUZZ' album makes me think about becky and kian. oh my god. those two make me so damn emotional. like Her and I was the first one to rly resonate with me, and EMPTY was another good one, all just stuff about. yknow LOVE!! doomed by the narrative yet burning SO SO brightly in its last moments, holding hands, playing music, THEY WERE SO IN LOVE WITH YOU THAT THE COPY OF THEM LOVED YOU, AND YOUR COPY LOVES THEM TOO. WHAT A BEAUTIFUL, CRUMBLING, BURNING, HISSING, SQUIRMING, MELTING, CLICKING LOVE STORY..

GET OVER HERE N SCREAM WITH MEEE I LOVE SCREAMING ABOUT THINGS

[404-art-found]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: ULTRAKILL (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Ferryman & Gabriel (ULTRAKILL) Characters: Ferryman (ULTRAKILL), Gabriel (ULTRAKILL) Additional Tags: Character Study, Written Pre-Act III: Godfist Suicide (ULTRAKILL), They/Them Pronouns for Ferryman (ULTRAKILL), Canon Compliant, Religious Conflict, pre act-3 but post-violence release (there are violence spoilers in here), Angst and Tragedy, Fights Summary:

Light streaked behind the angel’s wing-tips. The light he radiated blazed as he neared. He was terrifying in all his glory. He wasn’t passing overhead, but instead was losing altitude again. They took a small step backwards when the figure tilted until he was undeniably flying toward the ferry.

Idly, they noted he wasn’t exactly slowing down as he approached their ferry. In fact, he seemed to be speeding up.

Hm.

They trusted his judgment, of course they did. He was the Judge, after all. His word was the word of God, infallible in its reasonings.

They simply did not want to intrude on his personal space, so they backed up until they were pressed back to the quarterdeck. They did not wish to be blinded, even momentarily, by his illustrious radiance either, for that would be extremely inconvenient and perhaps painful, so they raised their oar to partially obscure their skull.

 (or: The Ferryman, shaken by V1's passage, is greeted by Gabriel, on his way back from slaughtering the Council.)

[dcawritings]

Unfortunate: My wife, a player in a long-running Pathfinder 2e campaign that I run, immediately clocked when I was in the middle of trying to design a DCA-inspired NPC and demanded, nay, begged for me not to go through with it. I love my wife and alas, he will be unused

Fortunate: I now have a DCA oc/ttrpg AU and I'm going to figure out how I can make things about him. His name is Celest (short for Celestial) and he's an Automaton Oracle who specializes in astrological magics and somehow has two (or more) souls stuck inside his automaton core. He's a couple hundred years old (in terms of being in his current form/life) and tends to keep to himself and away from major cities.

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold