#oho!

[couldtheysurviveshibuya]

kokichi oma from danganronpa?

Could this human, Kokichi Oma, survive the Shibuya Reaper's Game?

No, he dies during Shiki's Week

No, he dies during Joshua's Week

No, he dies during Beat's Week

Yes, he survives!

Voting ended onFeb 17, 2025

[concernedhobbits]

it did just occur to me that no mercy percy is essentially the critical role fandom’s version of bully mcguire

[heymeowmao]

[mummer]

oho.....

[stars-in-the-dawn]

This was originally for my group chat, so you know its a labor of love with only iron clad meme-proof takes. I do not know a single Taylor S

[territheturtle]

I was able to clean up one of my sketches that I really liked! (my first digital painting wow!) 

[hobidreams]

moonlit throne update!

some truths are easier expressed through ink.

drabble #15 comes october 4th, 5:30pm PST!

catch up now.

[areniaagn]

It wasn’t enough, sometimes, staring at the stars.

Somewhere, there was a Keeper staring up at the night sky; past the boughs that bore fruit no more. They sat atop a large rock, their faceless visage staring at the heavens. Their slouch had only grown more pronounced over the years, their voice growing more rickety with each step they took. Though nature had all but overtaken his form, he did not feel quite alive.

He knew a piece of him died on that dark day before the dawn.

...the stars always did remind the Keeper of him. It was such a shame he never got to see the clear night sky, free of the Great Dark.

It was such a shame—

“Keeper.”

A jolt, before the ancient being spun around with near-unparalleled speed. That voice. No, it could not be. Slowly, it stands up, before sliding down the rock. Then, it approached the figure that had called out its name.

And there he was, standing in his splendorous robes that reflected what little starlight managed to get through the hazy dark clouds of the Empires Above. There he was, his arms spread out, as if to embrace his brother like he always had. There he was, The First, his brother, the one he...

The Keeper walked-no, shambled forward, as if in a daze. The First approached, his arms still held wide, and there, he—

Wasn’t.

The Keeper falls through the vision of what once was, clutching his own torso as he falls to his knees, his hooded head pressed down to the grass. A sour note escapes him, one that sings of heartbreak that time could never scab over. He knew it wasn’t real, he knew The First was still gone, still dead, and he would never come back, nothing he could ever do would ever bring him back.

The Keeper knew he loved him.

He wanted to tell him how he still carries the times they spent together in his breast, how he always loved the little laugh he did when answering someone’s question, how he always loved how wise and strong and insightful The First was. He wanted to spend the rest of eternity with him, and watch as their people flourished.

He loved The First.

And he would never get to tell him that.

It wasn’t enough, sometimes, staring at the stars.

Especially when he wanted back the company of someone who had gone to join them.