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#but i'm the only one that works
mobius-m-mobius · 5 months
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Mobius + being the only one to notice
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somnimagus · 5 months
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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lab-gr0wn-lambs · 25 days
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yea
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demaparbat-hp · 3 months
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WIP
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artemispanthar · 2 months
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Crimes against short people
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mumblesplash · 4 months
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part 2!!!! [read part one here]
transcript below the cut arranged into stanzas to help show where the rhymes are:
“that’s why they brought gem in? as a failsafe?” as a pawn. we were told to point her at whoever we need gone
“gem won’t hurt her allies. …yet.” the curse she carries will it’s had its eye on her since she lost the other eye she was specially selected for her hunting skill it’s quite the high honor. “wow. how generous.” we try
think about it: why does almost no one fight the curse? “given how fast scott killed skizz last season, i can guess.” [“any pain you spare your friends, you’ll have to suffer worse”?] it’s designed to shut down higher reasoning with stress
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domirine · 3 months
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ever seen a man so beautiful you ram your bike into his flowers?
my full piece for the retrouvailles zine! i had a lot of fun painting it. hope you enjoy looking at the lil details, plants, and the only character who has his shit together (the dog)
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ohpsshaw · 2 months
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[I need you to go look up "ICICLE WORKS - I STILL WANT YOU" and start blaring that as loud as you can right now.]
So. Typhus and I have failed in our mission to get him into everyone's bedrolls. Turns out that traumatized vampire got hands. We didn't have the heart to break up with Astarion, and I think we're DnD married now. Please keep us in your prayers.
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shadowednavi · 4 months
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it's been awhile since I've worked on this project! I've had this verse finished for months but didn't want to post it on its own, and instead wait until the whole thing is strung together to show the final result all at once. But I'm tired of holding onto it, so here is one section of my deltarune animation! My art tag has other clips if anyone is interested in seeing more~
(song: "The Hymn of Axciom" by Vienna Teng)
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golyadkin · 9 months
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I cannot express enough that if your reaction, as a hobby artist, to not getting that many notes on your art is to say "maybe I should just stop doing art altogether" you need to stop posting art to tumblr
not necessarily forever, not even for long, but just stop putting your art on here and start doing it for you again, remember why you enjoyed doing art in the first place and stop relying on the attention of faceless people on the internet for your enjoyment of your hard work
believe me, I get it, nothing crushes the artistic soul quite like labouring for hours on a piece only for it to get like 10 notes, so you need to find your own source of joy in the act of creation and a lot of the time that means making art and not showing it to anybody
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cangrellesteponme · 24 days
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wife
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fiepige · 7 months
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Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:
Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release
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You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')
#This took so long to make lol#cause I had to edit every scene with Hobie from both versions so I could watch them right after one another to compare them#I did this with ALL the scenes he's in also the ones where he's on screen as spider-punk#but they only changed his filters in these scenes so it was a waste of time :')#sidenote: no it wasn't it's never a waste of time to look at hobie I just couldn't use it for my GIFset lol#I also made a bouns one but I'm not allowed to post more than 30 GIFs in one post apparently so I guess I just won't add it then...#but Hobie was basically filterless during all these scenes in the theatrical version#I like that they gave him more different filters in the digital version#the only change I don't like is in the first GIFs#cause like that one post pointed out it looks like they removed his lipstick for some reason#also really wish I had a better video editor so we could get a closer look at Hobie but I did my best with what I had#also slowed some of them down to get a better look at them#been having this idea for a while and now I finally finished it!#which means I can go back to working on my fics now#hopefully lol#also lemme know if there are some other scens you guys want me to make comparisons of#cause I have both versions#the theatrical release isn't the highest quality though so if you know where I can get my hands on a better version lemme know ;)#hobie brown#spider punk#miles morales#spider man#peter b parker#jess drew#miguel o'hara#spider man across the spider verse#across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#atsv#theatrical version
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buttercupshands · 6 days
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can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big
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and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today
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mrs-gauche · 10 months
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Alas, so long as the music plays, we dance.
(Cole's cryptic comments + The Song)
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benevolentcannibal · 17 days
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just guys being pals(?) what's better than this.
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Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 
It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 
And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 
The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.
They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 
There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 
And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 
So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 
And maybe they are, especially Astarion.
But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  
When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 
Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 
They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…
That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 
Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 
No, those people know nothing at all...
“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.
The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 
Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 
By now, he knows every step of this game.
“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”
Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 
Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 
“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 
“Want apple!”
Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 
“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 
The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 
She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.
Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.
“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…
The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 
Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 
Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 
But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.
Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 
The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 
He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.
“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.
Astarion pauses.
He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 
By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.
And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 
He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 
Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 
He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 
These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.
He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.
It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 
Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 
After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.
And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 
“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 
When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.
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