#original Tumblr posts

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    Babs

    #Ocs#Oc#Original #The yellow dress is a friend's oc #Our babies
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  • Why can I never get a straight answer???

    Comic 1

    (Please don’t remove caption or repost/redistribute)

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    isn’t this place beautiful ?

    5 minutes challenge…

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    Sketch 018

    Trying to force myself to draw more, just been really unmotivated.

    #ultradpg#original#sketch#drawing#oc #no name oc #traditional #god i wish my computer was working
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    The weather was so nice today I decided to draw Posie enjoying it too! 🌤 🎈

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  • Por favor tengan paciencia conmigo, que estoy haciendo unos cambios visuales a mi proceso de postear, gracias ♥

    Please be patient with me, I am making some visual changes to my posting process, thank you   ♥

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    My Zanahoria, so beautiful my little girl

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    doodle dump of a buncha things from my sketchbooks - ranging from january to now!

    left to right, top to bottom: a liddol baby oc, lup doodle, oc in formal clothes, random watercolor pal, watercolor ayano, watercolor doodles of gay pining + a miku song i like, a whole buncha lucretia doodles in ballpoint pen, a whole page of ballpoint pen oc scribbles, a liddol headshot of aforementioned oc

    #sketchbook dump#original#taz balance#kagepro#miku#scribbles #the last oc has a much better design now dw #their name is flick! i love them!
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  • Spoilers for Chapter +253 of My Hero Academia!

    ///

    Shouta’s legs move as if on autopilot, and he looks around the halls of UA for any sign of life. The hallway is brighter than he’s ever seen it before and the world beyond the glass planes of the high school’s walls is nothing but a blinding white. As far as he can tell, nobody else is in this wing of the school or anywhere else for that matter; it’s just pure and absolute silence. He can’t even hear his own footsteps. 

    “Hizashi! Kayama!” Shouta tries calling out. Surely the boisterous blond and perverted heroine are somewhere around here. In fact, Hizashi’s class should be just up ahead.

    Shouta walks up to the familiar classroom and pulls the door open, but instead of seeing his friend sitting at his desk listening to radio or drinking coffee, all that greets him is black. Not darkness, not shadows, but an inexplicable, harrowing empitness, as if he’s gazing into an abyss. Shouta freezes up and icy cold talons grip his chest. 

    “Hizashi?” Shouta calls into the dark, but nobody calls back. He hesitates then closes the door.

    “Hahaha! It’s a nice day today, eh?” An achingly familiar voice cheers, and the familiarity of it seizes his heart and squeezes it. Slowly, he turns to look down the hallway, and as if from a mile away, he sees him. It’s not Hizashi, nor is it Kayama, but it’s someone he hasn’t properly seen in over a decade. Someone with wavy light blue hair that seems to float around his head like a cloud, someone with a lopsided grin and bright azure eyes that seem to light up the world in joy. 

    Shirakumo Oboro is standing at the end of the hallway, dressed in his school uniform and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looks exactly like how he did fifteen years ago before the incident, when he was seventeen. When he was alive. The moment Shouta’s eyes make contact with his friend’s azure ones, Oboro’s smile broadens and he races down one of the adjacent hallways.

    “Oi, wait! Oboro!” Shouta shrieks and reaches out his hand without thinking, his own eyes widening further as he finally notices he’s dressed in his own old school uniform. His hands fly up to his face and feel for his skin and chin, but his skin is clear from any facial hair and is impossibly smooth for someone his age. Somehow, he’s a teenager again.

    I can’t let him get away, Shouta thinks and sprints after the taller boy. His lungs fill with ice and his legs burn, but Shouta ignores it as he forces himself to follow in hot pursuit. I still haven’t told him all I need to tell him. I haven’t thanked him yet, not for a single damn thing he’s done for me! I can’t let him leave us, not again… Falling debris fills his vision, and suddenly the hallways around him shifts and he’s standing in the middle of rainy streets. Shouta blinks and the image fades away.

    “Oboro!” Shouta screams, more desperately this time. Slowly yet surely, he’s catching up with the older boy until there’s no more than a few feet between them. Oboro doesn’t look back, though, and honestly Shouta isn’t even sure if he sees him.

    Oboro turns up the flight of stairs leading to the roof and goes up three steps at a time, and with a mighty heave, the metal doors fly open at the top. The blinding white flashes in Shouta’s eyes and he flinches back so hard that his knees buckle beneath him and he falls to his knees with a cry.

    “Ohh boy! Ain’t nothin’ better than a game of chase, eh, Shou?” Oboro’s voice cackles. Something rustles beside him and a large hand falls on his head. “C’mon, dude. It’s bright out, I know, but you gotta give your eyes time to adjust.”

    “Oboro…?” Shouta grits out and finally manages to pry his eyes open. The world beyond is so bright, but after a few seconds of rapid blinking, he can finally see ahead of him. He lifts his head and meets Oboro’s eyes, which crinkle at the edges as he flashes the ravenette a flashy grin. 

    “‘Course it’s me, who else would it be?” he asks, and Shouta’s lips wobble as tears punch him in the throat. Without thinking, he lunges forward and wraps his arms tightly around Oboro’s shoulders and crushes him in a hug. Oboro lets out a muffled “oof” but his hands hug him back easily. “Haha! I mean, I know I’m a pleasure to have around, but I never expected a hug from you, Shouta!”

    “You stupid fucker,” Shouta sobs into Oboro’s shoulders. “Why do you have to be so goddamn selfless all the time? If you had just thought about yourself for once in your life then I… we…”

    Oboro pulls him closer. “It’s an occupational hazard of being a hero, Shou. But ya know what? I can’t say I regret it. Lives were on the line and I had to do something about it, ya know?”

    Shouta shakes his head vigorously. “You- you could have made a cloud to protect yourself and those kids at the same time! But you didn’t because you’re a goddamn moron! A moron above morons with no sense of self preservation! Did you think at all about how we felt!? How we feel!?” he snaps back, his voice gaining friction with each choked word. 

    “I’m sorry.”

    Shouta has so many more things to say, but the tears strangling him make it hard enough for him to breathe without sputtering in a pathetic mess. Oboro’s firm, strong arms hold him, and Shouta just wants to melt into them. Fifteen years is a long time, but the memory of these arms grabbing him around the shoulders and dragging him towards the future is something he’ll never forget. Since they first met with Oboro pretending to jump out of the window on the first day of school, Shouta has seen this boy as a brother. A friend he can rely on for anything, except for, of course, taking care of his own health.

    “Mann, I must’ve missed out on a lot,” Oboro finally says. “I dunno why, but it feels like I’ve been here forever.”

    “What did it feel like?” Shouta grits out, and Oboro shrugs.

    “It hurt like hell for a split second, and then there was nothing. That’s the only silver lining to this, I guess. I didn’t go out suffering or anything,” he says, then lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course, there’s also you taking down that big ass villain on your own. It was pretty cool, you know that? Seeing you take down that fucker with nothing but your wit and quirk. I knew you had it in you, Shouta.”

    No I don’t, a darker part of Shouta’s mind hisses. I didn’t. I still don’t. I don’t think I can ever take that type of pain ever again. Never.

    “I’m sorry,” Shouta finally blurts out. “I’m sorry for being such a lame friend, for not being faster to help you out. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I dragged you back for so long. I’m sorry I–”

    “Enough, Shouta,” Oboro says firmly and pulls away so that his blue eyes could peirce into Shouta’s dark ones. “It’s not your fault, you hear? There was absolutely nothing you could have done to help me without risking your own life. And that’s okay. You became a damn fine hero without me, and I can’t be more proud of you. You made it. You did it, Shouta.”

    Shouta shakes his head. “If I was faster– if I was better–” he stammers.

    Oboro gives Shouta’s shoulders a firm shake. “You’re good enough,” Oboro tells him. “You hear me, Shouta? You’re good enough.”

    Shouta shakes off Oboro’s hands and scoots back several inches. “How could you say that?! I let you die! It’s because of me that All For One got you, and it’s because of me that you became a nomu!” he shrieks.

    Oboro shakes his head. “Neither of those things are your fault, Shouta. You need to accept that,” he tells him. “Besides, it’s not all bad. You brought me back.”

    Shouta scoffs. “Why on Earth would you say that? Your face popped up for a few seconds in Tartarus before you short-circuited like a computer,” he says.

    “I mean, you’re right about that, but you still managed to wake up that part of me. I’ve been trapped here for so long, and then for a few moments, I was able to see again,” Oboro tells him, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “Who knows? Maybe in the future, when all of this has settled, we’ll be able to hang out again.”

    Shouta shakes his head, chuckling bitterly. “I hope we can,” though I’m not sure if it’s possible.

    “Sure it’s possible,” Oboro says, surprising him. He blinks and his azure blue eyes are suddenly a bright yellow that glows like fire, and dark purple mist seems to seep out from his pores and rush up and around his body, completely consuming him within an instant. Shouta watches the scene in horror as the clothes covering Oboro’s body warp into an elegant olive green suit, white under shirt, and black tie coupled with black dress pants and slacks. A silver collar appears from under the smoke and wraps itself around Kurogiri’s neck, and the yellow eyes squint.

    “After all,” Kurogiri continues, “how can you be so sure that I was ever gone?”

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    Pokémon Gym Leader Challenge:

    Add a photo of you as a gym leader and your 6 pokémon. Send a 🔥 in my ask box and I’ll choose the type of team for you to assemble! (Does not have to be drawn)

    My twin friends chose fire and rock for me, so here are my picks:

    FIRE - Arcanine, Alolan Marowak, Blaziken, Houndoom, Centiskorch, Charizard

    ROCK - Lycanroc, Drednaw, Aggron, Magcargo, Aerodactyl, Lunatone

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  • Synesthesia

    Part 2

    Yellow is the ringing of laughter in a room. The sun that stubbornly leaks through a lazy curtain. The chirping of birds in the morning. Also the blinding light of the sun that never truly let’s you admire it. The sense of peace you get in the morning. Yellow is the smile you give to every comment. The way you escape to your own self. The far away look you give when you concentrate. How you never truly catch mean in any comment. Yellow is your never ending race to the top. The silence you never know when to let be. The need to be seven steps ahead. Ambition that challenges. Underestimated unless it blinds you. Yellow is the happy race towards the end.

    Orange is the bright color you turn away from. Summer and spring meet in its shades. Mixing and experimenting. The refreshing feeling of getting things done. The constant need to find answers to always new questions. Orange is the softness of the sunset. A gift of nature tu be admired, that leaves you stunned and hypnotized. The falling leaves that decay but announce new life. Orange is the tenderness in the way you care. Bright and shiny until the sun sets, when you let yourself flow. The vibrant laugh you give to everything. The need to remeber every detail you can. Orange is the stress you don’t know you even hold in your shoulders. The clenched jaw you tell me to relax. A sad look that you swear was unnoticeable. The softness we share over the quiet thoughts we keep to ourselves. Orange is the sunset we quietly share.

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