#will crosspost later

[retquits]

[pintura]

Lavellan

[14dayswithyou]

Where are we sitting, angels? ✈️

[ciphox]

[raiain]

some lovejoy fanart i dont think ive ever posted on here ! from around oct '21

[reason-with-the-underdog]

sometimes im normal & then i think about how alhaitham keeps his eyes open while kissing kaveh & i can't stop laughing

kaveh is unaware of this fact bc he closes his eyes like a normal human being on this planet teyvat (alhaitham just wants to see kaveh up close is that wrong)

ok kaveh finds out somehow and a non-productive discussion ensues where kaveh fails to convince alhaitham why he should be closing his eyes while kissing

so kaveh decides to prove how weird it is by keeping HIS eyes open next time they kiss

��wait why is alhaitham into that;;;

in a staring contest alhaitham wins hands down (maybe lynette could give him actual competition) kaveh complains to tighnari & cyno about this conundrum and then is like "wait! i figured out a solution! what if i blindfold him"

tighnari & cyno take a shot (secret drinking game)

[crowrrupt]

Sorry if this looks a bit rushed but I decided to draw something for XZeroweekwinter! What's more winter-y than snow and northern lights? (Even if it doesn't make sense)

[sans-guy]

saw some canon details got confirmed and i decided to refine his design thumbs up

[mipexch]

been replaying more ultrakill and now i’m wondering (ignoring the gameplay aspect) why V1 doesn’t attack (or kill, honestly) gabriel during the monologue after his fight. like it makes sense in act 2 but in act 1 gabriel is just some haughty loser who won’t stop shouting obscenities at them. get his ass!!!!! V1!!!!!!!!

[earako]

"I'm glad Shermie got that mom but..."

Shermie paused midway down the steps. He had woken up to grab a glass of water for the twins, poor dears were exhausted after running around the Gravity Falls woods all day, but the sound of his brothers talking made him stop on the second last step down.

It still didn't feel real.

His brothers, Lee Lee and For For, his brothers who taught him to read, both books and people, his brothers whom he thought one was dead and the other estranged.

They wanted to be part of Shermie's life again and Shermie let them back in (after some groveling of course. And various thrown pillows to his older brothers faces-give Shermie a break, he -is- the youngest sibling after all.)

He shouldn't be doing this, listening in on the elder pair of twins.

But he had to know. What did his brothers mean by "that mom?"

"Stanley, we -chose- to help out with Shermie-"

"No, no I don't mean that," Stanley said and Shermie could see in the hall mirror the younger Stan twin waving his hands as if batting away Stanfords comment. "I...shit, Poindexter. We were kids too..."

"We were older."

"We were still her kids though and-and look I know Ma protected us the best she could..."

What about Ma? And what about protecting? Shermie leaned against the wall and tried to peer more closely at the hall mirror without letting his own reflection show.

"...She got Shermie out, Ford. And-and don't get me wrong but..." Chairs scraped against the floor, Shermie heard more than saw what was likely Ford getting up and walking over to Stanley.

"...You're wondering why she didn't get us out too. Why Shermie was worth it and we....we weren't." Ford stated more then asked. Shermie held his breath as Stanley let out a shaky 'yeah.'.

Water forgotten, Shermie hurridly made his way upstairs, praying the steps wouldn't give him away.

He was a Pines boy. The universe was not kind to Pines boys. Of course the stairs creaked.

"Someone there?" Ford's voice called out.

Dangit.

Hopfully Shermie got better at acting in his old age.

"Just me, Ford. Wanted to grab some water for the kids."

"Ya spoil them, Shermie," Stanley dryly muttered. Stanford rolled his eyes and made a comment about how Stan was no better, which quickly evolved into good natured ribbing and teasing one another about getting soft in their old age.

Shermie just chuckled then went to grab the waters for the kids. On his way back up the stairs though he managed to hear a whispered "think he heard?"

"Hope not. We got enough self-worth issues for several generations."

"Lee!"

"What?"

Shermie shook his head and continued up the stairs.

He couldn't help but wonder though...why didn't his older brothers get the mom who stood up to Pa?

Why did Shermie get the good mom?

[residentialsinyomakai]

You'll never guess who the kinda primary subject of this yappost/doodle dump is

sigh. it always comes back

Freaky ahh bowl of rice...what's he on about

"But Yōmakai isn't this a maddiman post. Why are the first two things besides the intro not ma" IM GETTING THERE. PATIENCE

I redraw Kagemura every now and then to see if I improve!! :) Think I kinda ate w this one frfr

No me mires con tus estupidos ojos

UEgh. judging you btw

Expression stuff cause I love seeing different depictions both from other people and within my own mind

Mini thing based on a. Trend jm noticing LMAO

Also this Maddiman that scared some of my friends apparently 😔💔

AU shenanigans and this idiot again. HATE HIM BLOW HIM UP NOW!!!! Jkjk i wish people drew him more i love him :)

Anyways all done :) see you!!

[becauseplot]

Phil wakes up in the morning, curled up on his side of the bed, wings splayed out over the empty half of the mattress behind him. As always. Snags his robe off the hook by the bed and shrugs it on and doesn't look at the vacant hook beside it. As always. Half asleep hauls himself out of bed and shuffles into his slippers and opens the blinds; bedroom flooded by golden sunlight, shining on the glass panes of the framed family photos hung up on the walls, drowning them in morning glow. As always.

It's just another morning up here on the wall. He heads down into the basement expecting the usual: finding Tallulah already awake and writing quietly in her diary, listening to her giggle as Phil drags her dead-to-the-world brother out of bed, sending them both off to go get dressed and wash up while he fumbles something together for breakfast.

When he steps into their bedroom, their beds are empty.

The spike of panic is immediate. He knows he put them to bed last night. They're not staying over anywhere else. They weren't anywhere in the front garden. There's no obvious note or sign anywhere that Phil can see. Where did they go? Where are his kids?

But then he hears it---the laughter. Clinking of dishes in the kitchen. The smell of eggs and bacon and beans. Soft Spanish that's low and syrupy-sleepy, still waking up.

Phil walks into the kitchen, and it's like walking into a dream.

The three of them are crowded around the counter, with Chayanne standing on a stepstool to the left and Tallulah standing on a chair to the right. Daylight spills in through the window above the sink and makes the mirage of Missa expertly dicing onions shimmer, body wreathed in warmth.

Missa sets down the knife. He turns around, the off-white of his bone mask almost dandelion in the sun, and Phil just about loses it.

He's relieved. He's disbelieving. He's ecstatic, and he's furious, and he's oddly numb. Something inside him wants to hurl a fist across his jaw; something else wants him to curl a fist around the lapels of his cloak and never let go.

Phil's arms are around him before he even realizes that he's crossed the kitchen.

Missa makes a sound of surprise, arms briefly hovering like this is the last thing he expected, but it doesn't matter---Phil feels him return the embrace a heartbeat later, and Phil sinks into it. A soft noise of anguish dies in his throat; he buries his face in Missa's shoulder and clutches at the back of his cloak and squeezes him like he wants to shatter bone and nestles in closer with the irrational, irrepressible desire to burrow into Missa's chest and fucking live there. Missa would probably let him.

A hand comes to cradle the back of his head. He feels lips and nose land softly in his tangle of unbrushed morning hair.

"Buenos días, querido."

He's home.

[crouton-knight]

kusuriuri OC

I planned to do just a sketch but then I got too into it.

[greyfalter]

KLV QDPH… LV SBUDPLG VWHYH

[00fairylights00]

Hypersomnolence

Haha funny story, I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder in November after struggling with it unknowingly for give or take 18 months. Turns out I’m not crazy and falling asleep against your will multiple times a day is actually not a good or normal thing.

So permit me to write the puppet like a sap as I need this right now lol. Yes these are in fact all things I experienced but I am medicated for them now hooray!

One task, that was all you’d managed to get through today. You felt sick and heavy, opting to sit on the cold ground before your body made you, it was a battle to stay awake as sleep attacked you again.

It was only early afternoon and you’d struggled through your one task of sweeping, you were certain everyone at the hotel thought you to be lazy, even if they’d all told you otherwise.

You’d been sick like this for a long time, long before the petrification disease or the puppet frenzy, both events having a negative effect on the way you’d usually manage your symptoms. 

And while you appreciated the sanctity you’d been spared at Hotel Krat, the nagging feeling of needing to repay Lady Antonia for her kindness was not helping your case.

You sat with your head in your hands, slipping in and out of consciousness, losing the battle again. Usually, Polendina would find you, send you to your room to rest and that would be it for the day, once you were in bed you found it hard to do much of anything else. Which you supposed was good for your body but it made your emotional well-being an absolute wreck.

Lady Antonia had asked you time and time again to be kinder to yourself, to feel accomplished of the things you could do and that you were welcome here no matter how sick you were, and she would know a thing or two about being sick.

But, you had a bad habit of being nasty to yourself, and with your sleep-related illness only seeming to get worse you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken kindly to yourself.

You felt like shit.

A hand at your shoulder, delicate and tender shook you but it didn’t do much to rouse you. Your vision swam uncomfortably through the gaps in your fingers, your head being too heavy to lift up. Hands grasped your wrists, pulling gently to reveal your face that was then taken into those same hands, one soft and warm, the other firm and cold.

With the weight of your head now being supported by P’s hands you could somewhat force yourself to look at him. His expression was unreadable, as always, but his presence was a balm to your spiralling thoughts.

The friendship of Geppetto’s Puppet had been good for you, P didn’t care how tired you were he was just happy to see you, he didn’t expect anything but your presence and that was something you could give freely, tired or not.

He tilted his head in question to what you assumed to be your position on the floor, slumped over rather uncomfortably.

“It just came on, I had to sit down,” you mumbled, he seemed to frown, getting down on one knee and shifting you against him to pick you up.

With you cradled to his chest, he ascended the stairs. You burrowed down against his chest, relishing in how nice it was to be looked after. 

It was almost like the trip up to your room didn’t happen, one moment you were snug to P’s chest, the next you were under your sheets and propped up against the headboard. P took it upon himself to remove his shoes and coat and sit on the opposite side of the bed to keep you company.

“Sleepy?” P asked innocently, you nodded trying desperately to suppress another yawn. 

“I-“ he started, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “-want to help. How do I help?”

He gently took your hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. The astounding amount of care he treated you with was sure to tear you apart in the best ways, making your exhausted mind spin.

“Just stay here with me for a bit,” You laid your head on his shoulder, “I think that’ll help.”

“Okay.”

He mimicked you, resting his head on top of yours, pulling the sheets further up your lap. Doing what he could to keep you comfortable, a concept he was still trying to grasp.

“Thank you P,” you mumbled, snuggling closer, “love you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, nose buried in your hair, “I love you too.”

[layzeal]

having a fun time thinking about baby twin jades causing problems on purpose