#god help

[psipaka]

Drawing from 2025 because I have none from 2026 yet

(Also, for the record - I’m aware that Holly and Mistletoe are different, I drew holly on previous drawing and this one not to be accurate, but because in 2010s everyone drew it.)

[pmd-stardust]

Need to go somewhere that sucks but you don't want to be there physically? Alter annoying you? Want to take over wolfboy's body and own him? Put them in a small robotic Vulpix body for an extra pair of hands!

"What can a small robot with big useless handpaws do" you might ask?

No comment

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

As requested (a while back)...

Vincent Price wasn't just an authority on fine art, an author, or an amazing actor and horror bicon - he was also a gourmet cook.

So, here's a gif compilation of Vincent Price eating. Bon Appetit!

[warammy]

[sweetheartgoose]

I can’t breathe… his eyes and arms and perfect curls are doing things to me

[llamapear]

ROSSO

[jessberriies]

You should talk about Mell (? the OC from that comm) 👀

Mell is my gargantuan cyber city knock out, she’s a werewerewire pit fighter, dwelling on the outskirts of cyber city where the more sketchy and dangerous folk do their business. Making a living in the ring while managing a very small apartment for herself, despite making big, the werewire lays low, finding the comforts in a simpler lifestyle than those of the mansion.

Despite this, she attends charity events and larger scale gatherings including ones involving the Queen.

During one such occasion where Mell was coming home, she ran into a very peculiar individual in one of the many alley’s located near her apartment, a boisterous and overly aggressive Addison pitching ungodly sales with a voice riddled with odd tones and scrambled bits vocals, this individual being Spamton, former resident of the manor, or he so claims.

Down on his luck with selling odds and ends of items, he eagerly inquires to the dressed werewire if she is willing to spare a bit of generosity, rubbing his fingers in a manner she knew all too well. He thrusts his supplies outward, to which Mell rejects at first.

While his initial introduction was poor, given the man almost lost his head with the fighters fist narrowly missing his face. She offers a few dark dollars out of pity, what became a few, became much more over the course of the months. Not without a gift in return for her help, strange blue oval shaped trinkets were given as well as some minorly damaged items for her continuous support.

Spamton refers to her as his favorite customer ( despite her rejecting his offers on numerous occasions with his stock, to which he claims he can’t just accept charity with a little something back).

Eventually Mell inquires of his home, to which the usual jovial salesman begrudgingly gestures to the silver tin he’s been living out of, claiming that his former glory has left him in utter shambles, that the trash is his only place of living and work.

Yeah sometimes he finds a decent spot to sleep but who knows how long before it gets infested with viruses.

Mell finds the circumstances to be rather… Unfortunate, disheartening even, it was the way of the city, some are better off than others given the system, while folks like him get the shorter end of the stick.

In the end, after some convincing and debating back and forth, Mell offered her home to the forgotten Addison. Becoming her loud mouth roommate, earning his keep by sprucing up her home while she was attending events and fights, while his cooking is less than ideal, his present in her home has made it significantly warmer, greeting her by the doorway more often than not.

Offering his “ spectacular” cuisine and massages should she need it after a particular tough evening. The two fell into a routine, acting in harmony as the days past. He became more vibrant, less chaotic, that and his appearance improved gradually over time.

Although he still worked at his “store” to provide something for Mells housing.

In the end, he became fond of her, with Mell also admitting vice versa. Though their feelings are never fully addressed, just a quiet understanding of one another’s space and time.