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#ok oh my god
pseudophan · 5 months
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anthony is dead: the funeral roast (paid content)
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boltlightning · 6 months
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they should invent a way to read in bed that's comfortable
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ratcandy · 3 months
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saw a version for a different fandom on my dash and suddenly got compelled .sorry .
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ministarfruit · 5 months
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stardew valley marriage candidates
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pyralart · 8 months
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I don't think Belos is taking it very well
First part (You are here) >> Next Part
First batch of this little series, inspired by @petitprincess1's idea! I couldn't get this scenario out of my head so of course I drew it.
Get ready because it will have at least 8 pages! Probably my longest comic yet
There will be some angst but the violence will overall be canon-typical!
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heartorbit · 4 months
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stay warm! 🌟🍬🤖🎈
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i have a Scene - a Plot if you will - that backs this as context. y'all are gonna have to trust me on this one <3 or read the tags...
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#the song is 'in your eyes' by peter gabriel#boombox serenade lets GO!!!#in my mind immediately after this the others came over to say hi (or in sallys case tell him off)#and at first howdy's like 'oh ofc wallys there that makes sense. sally too? strange but alright'#then eddie appears and ohhhh boy its Jealousy Central Babey and howdy's train just pulled into the station#scribble salad#laughingstock#welcome home#barnaby x howdy#howdy x barnaby#OK CONTEXT I PROMISED CONTEXT#so in my mind howdy is an oblivious dumbass when it comes to his own romantic feelings.#he's so in love with barnaby (its very obvious) but Doesnt Realize It. despite being a god tier flirty fruity motherfucker#so when barnaby - thinking theyre on the same page - confesses#howdy's all like 'ohhh um. gee barn im flattered truly but - i just dont like you like that'#yk breaking barnaby's heart right down the middle#so barnaby shuts himself in his home and wally is hovering. yk Worried#and eddie - who's been helping barnaby come to terms w/ his own feelings & gauge if howdy feels the same - asks sally to check in for him#& sally goes over and Immediately involves herself. she takes personal offense on barnaby's behalf#also she lives for the drama and wants every juice detail Hot Off The Press#so while howdy is having a lil crisis as he slowly realizes Oh My Fucking God I DO Love Barnaby Like That-#barnaby / sally / wally / (eventually) eddie are all having a sleepover where they just play card games and chat#a good ol bitch n' stitch night#and howdy shows up to try and talk to barns (obvs in my head he doesnt have a boombox he just Knocks)#only to get RE-RE-RE-REJECTEDDDDDD!!!! thats how it feels you wormy mf!#bc barnaby is a) having a girls night & b) needs to emotionally prepare for That conversation#aaaaand THATS the context <3
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snowysss · 1 year
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SONG OF ACHILLES SPOILERS:
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modmad · 4 months
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LADS IM FREAKING OUT my dear friend @cartoon-kitsune sent me a present and I was literally wearing this outfit when BAM. POPPY.
WE MATCH??? THE HAIR AS WELL this was not planned I can't. I can't believe how gorgeous she is or how funny it is that I'm literally the same colours rn THANK YOU SO MUCH KIT ;A;
also...
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SHE BIG
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brookheimer · 10 months
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people acting like twitter's new post count is gonna cause a mass exodus to tumblr.... this website's demographic has not changed in 865578 years and it sure as hell won't now. this is the site for people who were weird and unhappy in middle school. everyone on here has either been around since they were weird unhappy 13-year-olds or joined when they were weird unhappy 13-year-olds, left because they thought they were normal for a while, then came crawling back again when they realized deep down they were still weird unhappy 13-year-olds. what does this site possibly have to offer you if you grew up happy well-adjusted and unaware of homestuck
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creepycrunchyart · 11 months
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doom & gloom (go in the dark)
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arttitude130 · 1 month
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both trying their best
based on interactions in +r, i drew these before aba was announced but just remembered they existed
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mintypsii · 8 months
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i really appreciate that the opla gave us something new because this dynamic is so funny to me im gonna cry. zoro is giving lego batman tbh and him and nami are serving CUNT
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heartorbit · 2 months
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revstar emu save me
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some misc scribbles <3
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lineffability · 9 months
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"Crowley."
Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.
"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."
"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.
"I need your help" Aziraphale said.
"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.
The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.
"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."
"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.
Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.
"Why are you here?"
Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)
"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"
"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."
There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."
"No."
"This is important." (This isn't about us.)
"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)
"You do! You always have."
"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."
"That's not what I meant."
With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)
Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."
The words dropped like a lead balloon.
There was utter silence between them.
Why were they so close?
Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.
But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.
He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.
There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.
This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.
This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.
"I'm sorry. I need to go."
"Of course you do."
"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."
And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?
With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.
Crowley was alone.
His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.
And failed considerably.
I love you.
(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)
[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]
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