it didn't turn out right

I hope I don’t regret choosing these hair and uniform colors in a few weeks.

[See in Full Resolution to appreciate the watercolor effect.]

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RFA Magazine Mockups!
{{I also have a Society6 account now!}}

They were supposed to make magazines about the charity parties and benefits lol – i guess everyone did little edits on each other’s covers too hhhhahaha

V’s approval stage:

5

wow such struggle much pain no but seriously it’s supposed to be that headcanon where Remus tries to find a cure for his affliction and surprisingly there is one person willing to help him and not trying to poison Severus at the same time :)

I started listening to Welcome to Night Vale recently and I think I fell in love, thanks again for showing me this shit @silversatori! xD

I got curious if there was any fanart of him and checked out the tumblr tags (in hindsight maybe not the best idea, I might have spoilered myself a little lol) but I wanted to draw Cecil as well at least once and since for all I know he has little to no taste in fashion (like me) I crammed up some imo shitty looking clothes and threw them together in this doodle
And yes, that is a friggin Jat (jeans+hat)

My overall design for him as it is now isn’t really mine though, I just kind of threw together all kinds of designs I saw and liked and crammed it all up into this out of both lazyness and tiredness :’D

I know I’m hanging behind on things, but I hope that you’ll (after a too long period of not posting any art lmao) like it~

Ain’t Got Nothin’ But Love

A Highschool AU SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Valentine’s Celebration


Admittedly, it might not be entirely truthful to say that Baz joined Vocal Jazz because he loved singing.  This is not to say that he didn’t love singing, it just wasn’t something that he tended to broadcast. And yes, Vocal Jazz was a good way of coming out of his shell, breaking past that barrier of shyness when it came to his own voice, plus maybe making some friends.

           However, let’s just say that Baz might not have auditioned if it weren’t for the blonde-haired blue-eyed tenor.

           And maybe he didn’t get up for those early morning practices before class purely because he loved singing, but because he loved something else.  Someone else.

***           

Baz was more than a little disappointed when the group was split into two for the Valentine’s Day Musical Candy Gram event.  Granted, some might find it a little overwhelming to have ten people singing at them in front of the class, but couldn’t he at least have been put in Simon’s group?

           No, because the ensemble only had two basses and two tenors.  Both groups needed one of each, and Simon couldn’t miss third class.

           So Baz was left to swallow his disappointment as he followed his group down the halls of Watford High, singing excerpts of Beatles songs at poor unsuspecting students.  Objectively, it was a cute little setup.  They would barge into a classroom with the chorus of “She Loves You”.  Then Trixie, one of the sopranos, would call out the names of any “lucky” students, who would then have to make their embarrassing way to the front of the room to accept a flower or a card or both from Trixie and be serenaded with “8 Days A Week”.  All in all, not horrible.  Objectively. Baz was just glad he wasn’t on the subjective side of things.

           After fourth period, which he spent both quietly chuckling at the sound of his choir mates in nearby classrooms, and also praying they wouldn’t burst into his classroom or, heaven forbid, bestow a Musical Candy Gram upon him, Baz returned to the empty music room for his coat, which he had left there when the group had met at lunch.  As he buttoned up the coat, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit melancholy.  He hated to admit it to himself, but while singing was great, it was nothing compared to singing with Simon.  Because when he was singing with Simon it made “I’ll Be Seeing You”, their competition piece, feel different.  He wasn’t just singing words; it was more of an outlet.  Like pouring his bottled-up feelings down a drain.  They weren’t going to Simon, but at least they were going somewhere.

           “She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah…”

           Baz’s heart sank when all nine of his choir mates filed into the room, singing and snapping their fingers, this time directing their song at him, but he had to smile a little.

           “Really?” he smirked as Trixie came forward to hand him a single rose with a card attached by a ribbon.  “Is this all necessary?”  In response, they burst into “8 Days A Week”, beaming at him like he’d won some sort of prize.  It was mortifying, but it was almost nice.

Baz snuck a glance at Simon, who was singing through a grin, and even though he knew he was probably blushing, Baz held his gaze for a few more seconds, saving the sight to replay later.

“Alright, who’s it from then?” he demanded when the others had finally finished singing.  “There’s no name on the card.”

“Oooh, a secret admirer!” squealed Trixie, but nobody had an answer for him.  Baz didn’t miss the smirk that twisted Simon’s mouth though, or how smug the boy looked when he left the room.

 ***

“You know, don’t you?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, but Baz saw his mouth twitch.  “Know what?”

“Who sent me the card and the flower yesterday.” Baz tried to sound indifferent as he trawled through the philosophy section of the library.  “I could see it on your face.”

Simon pulled a book on Aristotle off the shelf, not looking at Baz.  “It’s possible,” he drawled.  “After all, you are my best friend, I ought to know who has a crush on you.”

“What you ought to do is tell me, best friend.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“I can’t,” Simon turned to him giggling.  “If I tell you who sent the Valentine, it would be breaking confidence.” He solemnly put one hand over his heart and one in the air by his head.  “I am under oath.”

“Under oath to whom?”

“The person who sent it, of course.”

Baz shot a look at him.  “So you’ve talked to them about it?”

“You could say that.”

“You’re being annoyingly cryptic.”

“Do you have any suspicions?”

Of course Baz had thought about it all day yesterday after school, but his mind had kept wandering back to what Baz wanted.  Because there was only one person he wanted to be behind the Valentine.

And if Baz was being honest with himself, it Simon hadn’t sent it, Baz didn’t want it.

He just shrugged.  “No one I can think of really makes sense.”

“Most love doesn’t make sense,” Simon murmured in reply, so softly that Baz thought maybe it wasn’t for him to hear.  Granted they were in a library, but still.

“Would you tell me if I guessed correctly?”

“No guarantees, but you have permission to interrogate me.  Ask away.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Hopefully a boy.”

Baz raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean ‘hopefully’?”

“Well, in theory,” Simon stammered, “whoever sent it cares about you enough to know that you’re gay, and if it were a girl, hopefully she would respect you enough to know better than to send you a Valentine.”

Baz had to admit he had a point.  “So basically what you’re saying is that it was a boy?”

Simon smiled.  “If that’s what you think.”

A thought occurred to him.  “It wasn’t Agatha, was it?  Just to get that off the table?”

“No it was not,” Simon admitted, “that would be a bit weird.”

“Especially since she’s still carrying a torch for you,” Baz snorted, maybe a little louder than was appropriate in a library.  Simon gave a wry smile that Baz couldn’t quite interpret.

“It wasn’t her,” Simon assured him, “guess again.”

Baz was honestly stumped.  There just wasn’t anyone else who seemed even the least bit interested in him.  He had thought that maybe Dev had had feelings for him a few years earlier, but now Dev was happily involved with his girlfriend, which eliminated that possibility.

“Really?” Simon smirked.  “No one?”

“There just isn’t anyone who shows any signs of liking me like that,” Baz shrugged.

“You might be surprised at the number of people who would gladly date you.  I mean, you’re certainly not hard to look at.”

Baz shot a surprised glance at Simon, who was apparently very interested in a chapter about nihilism.  Did he just…

“Is there anyone you want it to be from?” Simon asked quickly, like he didn’t want Baz to question him further.

You.

“Yes.”

Simon looked up at him with a smile that seemed just a little bit painted, and looked back down quickly.  “You should ask them,” he said in an overly cheery voice, “you could get lucky.”

“There’s no point,” Baz shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There’s no way it was them,” he chuckled sadly, “absolutely no way.”

Simon shrugged without looking at him.  “Maybe that’s for the best.  If you never know who it was, you can just imagine that it was who you wanted it to be, and the person can just imagine that you like them back.”

Baz didn’t have an answer for that.  It sounded like an easy solution, to just let the whole thing fade away and imagine that Simon had picked out the rose with care, that he had skirted around Baz when the group prepared all the Candy Grams so that Baz wouldn’t find his own name among the Valentines. That he had done something silly like kiss the card before tying it to the bloom.

But it was too good to be true, and Baz knew it. He would never stop wondering if he didn’t find out for sure.

So he steeled himself and forced the words out of his mouth: “Was it you?”

Simon looked up at him with practiced innocence, but his eyes betrayed a touch of fear.  “Why would you think that?”

“I just had to ask,” Baz floundered, hoping he hadn’t gone as scarlet as he felt.  “So that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“… No.”

“No, what?”

“No, it’s not a ‘no’.”

Baz’s brain was going at a thousand miles per second, and yet he couldn’t for the life of him comprehend what Simon was saying. “Oh,” was his scholarly response. “So that means…”

Simon stared straight ahead into the bookcase. “I sent it.  You got me.”

“Why?”

Simon finally turned to look at him.  “Why?  Gee, I don’t know, Baz!”  He was whispering, but with so much force that it felt to Baz like he was shouting. “Maybe because in all the years we’ve been friends you have astounded me and I only just made sense of it all! Maybe because you’re brilliant and gentle and so goddamn beautiful and when you sing I never want you to stop, and even if you never found out who sent you the stupid flower or if you didn’t care, at least I would have tried to tell you how much I like you, at least I would have -”

The next sound he made was one of shock as Baz’s mouth covered his own.

The sound after that was one of oh god, finally because Baz had him backed against the philanthropy section and was tangling his fingers in Simon’s curls, burying his lips in heat and need and oh, this is what all the hype is about and it was a million times better than Simon could have hoped for.

“Under oath to whom, again?” Baz teased against Simon’s lips, and Simon laughed lightly as he snaked his arms around Baz’s neck, already desperate for more.

“You got me,” he whispered, reaching up for Baz’s mouth again, and Baz couldn’t help but grin as Simon pulled him down to meet him.  Baz angled his head and deepened the kiss, a low sigh escaping his throat.  In the back of his head he remembered the rose and the card, and took to moment to appreciate the fact that he wouldn’t be throwing them away after all before setting up a long, slow rhythm against Simon’s mouth like they had all the time in the world.

Art time!

Jeez these took longer than I hoped, but hey, in the midst of exams, it was a good de-stressor!

I managed to draw some AU Sans’! (Not Scout, surprisingly enough) which I will (eventually) digitally redraw. These were a lot of fun, I gotta do this more often.

Sylphy and Underfaerie belongs to @underfaerie

Horror tale!Sans and Horrortale (this version) belongs to @sour-apple-studios

Cross!Sans and Underverse belongs to @underversesans

Underfell!Sans sort of doesn’t belong to anybody(??)

Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Gus belongs to @hurgusbrogus

Don belongs to @donkinbronut (But Gus did the art for both of them :D)

Fresh!Sans belongs to @loverofpiggies

Nextale! Sans belongs to @nextale 

Underswap!Sans is in the same boat as Fell

Lavender!Sans and Naturetale belongs to @lavender-sans

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet

Geno!Sans belongs to @loverofpiggies (I’m sorry for all the tags I should have had them all on the one page >.<)

I plan on drawing more, eventually, but this was super fun! I hope you guys like them (sorry for their roughness/unerased lines)

And I get it. I get why you were so scared of us now. Because – shit. Because you lost Wallace and it gutted you and I thought I figured out why and that felt like metal in my throat, and I realised I couldn’t drop you if I wanted to, ‘cause you were saying you didn’t even know what love feels like and I was just thinking,

you idiot,

you asshole,

it feels like this.

                                                  D.W

- in celebration of Ninety One Whiskey - @cuddlebabies

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#a more profound brond 

Bonus:

One time Fry races into his and Bender’s apartment, sneakers skidding on the floor as he runs into the bathroom, and hastily opens the door only to almost pee himself (he’s already painfully held it in for hours now) as Bender shrieks and slams the door so harshly it falls off of it’s hinges at the top.

Neither of them make a sound for a moment, and after checking that he didn’t actually pee his pants, Fry tentatively opens the door. And there is Bender, trying to struggle out of one of his spare red jackets , wearing a similar face to the one he wears when the police are about to get him. Fry knows that face to usually mean he needs to run, but he doesn’t think he needs to run right now.

Bender looks up at Fry from between the buttons (which are askew) with wide optics and his arms tangled in the red sleeves over his head. They both pause, and Fry thinks that if Bender needed to breath he would have stopped then, either out of shock or want to die of embarrassment. Fry isn’t really sure what he should be feeling in this moment, but finds himself some place in-between really really happy to find Bender in his jacket for whatever reason and really really blushy. Also he really really has to pee.

He settles for praying that his face isn’t as red as his hair and slowly walking over to the still still - Ha, still still - robot, vaguely wondering if Bender could malfunction and if he’d have to carry him somewhere to get fixed. Fry honestly couldn’t carry Bender, he’d have to call Leela, she’s probably the only one that was strong enough, her biceps are huge. Fry wishes his biceps were that huge, then he could give Bender piggy back rides and hold him in his arms. Fry shakes his head, that was beside the point, whatever the point was.

Fry coughs awkwardly, looking at the dirty shower curtain behind them - Oh, there’s the pepperoni he thought fall in the drain when he was eating pizza in the shower, he’ll have to eat that later - as he gently pulls Bender’s arms down and idly rebuttons the shirt for him. His hands end up resting on Bender’s chest, fingers pitter-pattering in a nervous and stuttered rhythm. Fry hums, this feels nice.

Fry looks up to the mirror to find Bender looking intensely at him and jumps a little, pulls his hands back to rest by his sides. Fry doesn’t really know what’s he’s doing, but he never knows what he’s doing or supposed to be doing, so he doesn’t really care anyway.

Fry bounces on the balls of his feet and watches the lines of Bender’s mouth guard move listlessly, no sound coming out, and suddenly feels an urgent need to reassure Bender that they were cool.

Fry coughs again and steps back, one hand tangling in his bright hair and the other shoved deep into his pocket, fingers playing with the lint there. He looks away from Bender,

“You can, uh,” Fry scratches his head and tries again, says too loudly and too rushed, “Feel free to keep the jacket, Bender! I have, like, twenty hundred of them, so…”

Fry trails off, thinking that was probably a good point to end the conversation. He nods to himself in congratulations, happy he didn’t say anything weird or stupid, and reaches behind himself around to open the door behind him. He fumbles a bit with the doorknob, its a little lower then he’s used to with the door being off a hinge as it was, and looks over his shoulder to see Bender still has his optics locked on his. The robot still hasn’t made a sound.

“Um…” Fry’s breath catches a bit and he gives Bender a once over without thinking, eyes lingering over the way his jacket stretches over Bender’s round shoulders. They kind of makes Fry think of a trashcan, but an attractive one. Not that Bender’s a trashcan, or that Fry’s attracted to trashcans, because he’s not, Bender just- looks really good all the time. If he was a trashcan Fry’s sure he would be an attractive one, Bender could probably be an attractive anything if he tried. Again, not that Fry’s attracted to trashcans. Fry shakes his head and starts over,

“You look really good in it, too! The red really brings out your, uh, metal or something.”

Fry falters and turns back around quickly, hand rattling the doorknob, “Anyway, I’m just gonna-” he bolts before Bender can respond.

Fry groans as he runs, why did he have to go and say something weird? He was doing so good! Now he has to find somewhere else to pee before his bladder erupts.

Fry runs past the kitchen before skidding to a stop, turning around, and looks from the kitchen sink, to the direction of the bathroom, and back again… Are there laws in the future against peeing in the kitchen sink?

That time in episode 31 where Scanlan burned down a mansion full of armed guards in a driving rainstorm by himself still remains one of my favorite Critical Role moments ever. I just had to try drawing my own take on it.

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fangirl challenge: [1/10] tv shows
       ↳ running man (2010 - ongoing)

“The Running Man team is very much like a family and I’m happy to have gained another family besides my own.”