#“uhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

[alleyesony0u]

TW/CW: Discussion of murder, death, and violence

imagine if evbo has a family outside of pvp civilization. a home. and he had his parents. and then one day, their sweet baby boy vanished. their baby boy had been fourteen going on fifteen when he had disappeared, he had a smile that could blind the whole world, he was struggling with freshman algebra and his parents would sit down with him on the couch and try and scrounge up memories from their school days to help him.

now their baby boy is finally back after months, but he is not their baby boy anymore. he is fifteen and he looks at them like he is shoving his hand in that haystack to find the needle. his smile is not as bright as it once was and his eyes have lost that glimmer of joy and innocence. they are so tired, they look like they have seen war. maybe they have.

and then there are the scars. the healed up wounds that mark something had been stabbed through his palms. when he takes off his shirt there is scar tissue so deep, so horrible on the skin of his stomach and chest his parents wonder What happened and how did he survive? the mark of a knife sliced across the throat and the jagged scar stretching across his jaw. and more. so so much more.

and yet he smiles. he tells his parents he loves them, that he will remember them, that he is beginning to remember them. he tells them stories he remembers, reminisces on cherished moments. and all of this says, i am still your son deep down, but it will take some time to find him. he refuses to tell them anything about his disappearance. he's fine. he is okay. really, he truly is. yet he still wakes up at night screaming and pleading and crying. please don't kill me. i don't want to die. why do i need to die? it hurts it hurts it hurts. and what can his parents do but wake up in the middle of the night, sit by him as he is curled up in bed, and watch as their baby boy (fifteen, not fourteen) cries and cries and cries, and refuses a hug, refuses to be touched, because it hurts.

[betweenblackberrybranches]

😳

Guys dont look

[bulbabutt]

rise leo does know whats going on with his brothers, dont you worry

previous part | all comics in this crossover (chrono) | tip jar (kofi)

[pixlokita]

Page 38

oh boy-

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[fraternum-momentum]

your insides are so pretty. [♡]

[prairieenyasblog]

can i get a uh uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmmm edworl

wanted to develop my cartoon silly style a bit so i made this. it’s kinda fun, but i think i’m still mostly gonna use it to make messy doodles cause i’m more used to it

[falling-skyzz]

twitter things

[fandomandangstlover]

gabriel ultrakill but in the angel hare universe. something something Gabriel Ultrakill, as in, The Game, is an angel and just. maybe someone bought that version of Ultrakill to Jonah and boom! new angel hare fren. he's.. not cozy, like Gabby, but he's trying to help, isn't he?

... yeah. uh. him. i need to see content of him in Angel Hare. like, him meeting Gabby or something. it'll be so funny pleasee

[sad-leon]

i dont have a clever caption for this one

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

hello i had an idea once. Here is ur explanation for it

Ok goodbye

[charcarts]

understatement to say i’ve been obsessed with this dog since middle school

[lizzy-frizzle]

Should probably give this it's own post and tag it appropriately so I can find it easily later

(99% NSFW content)

[biruesque]

☀️💗

[driflew]

w a bit more attention on bastard and the beast au bc of. someone. making a comment on stream, i wanted to post another batb scene

this one is like... loosely canon? big dog au is written so it can be read as romantic or platonic (since i like shipping and cherri does not lmao), which is why the curse is changed from true love to reciprocal trust/affection. that said, i was having thoughts about how Ren might feel about loving Martyn when he knows his curse works based on someone reciprocating his trust/affection, and how difficult it must be to love/trust a monster

“You don’t have to work all day, you know,” Ren says, lying on the ground toward the edge of the room. Martyn stops, glancing at the collection of dust and fur gathered by the end of his broom, then looks up at Ren.

“If I don’t sweep, the carpet is going to grow a second layer,” Martyn says.

“I don’t shed that much,” Ren mutters. Martyn says nothing, raising his eyebrows. “What? I don’t!”

It seems Martyn finds that unworthy of an argument, because he simply turns and resumes sweeping. Ren watches him—his sleeves are still rolled up from moving rubble earlier, and though sweeping doesn’t require much muscle, Ren finds himself watching the slight flex of his arm when he moves.

Everything about Martyn is attractive to Ren. Maybe he’s just been alone too long, but he finds himself admiring Martyn at every chance he gets. The callousness of his hands, the swish of his skirts when he walks, the crease below his eyes when he smiles… Ren can’t help but take it all in.

When Ren closes his eyes, when he lets himself dream, he can almost imagine how Martyn’s touch would feel against his own skin. Martyn’s hand in his own, far more weathered than the hands of a nobleman, or cupping his face with rough fingers. Martyn could have lifted his old body off the ground entirely, he thinks. Martyn could have swept him off his feet effortlessly.

Ren thinks about being delicate, something he never once cared about before, but knows he can never be again. He wants to be something fragile and small, something treasured and cherished. He wants Martyn to hold him like he’s precious, to touch him with intention, to treat him with love. He wants soft, smooth hands, clear of fur and claws, small enough to fit in Martyn’s own. He wants hands which don’t spend all their time against the muddy, dusty floor, hands important enough to be held and squeezed and kissed.

Could Ren be worthy of that one day? Would he have been worthy of that if he'd had a human face? He doesn’t want to be scary and clumsy and monstrous anymore.

Something smacks Ren in the nose. Not hard, but it tickles, and it immediately makes Ren sneeze.

“Did you just sneeze on me? That’s so gross,” Martyn says. He’s standing directly in front of Ren’s face, grimacing heavily. His broom is still in his hands, and Ren has to stop himself from laughing.

“You hit me in the nose! With a dusty broom! Of course I was going to sneeze!” Ren says.

“Gross,” Martyn says again, “I feel like I should take a bath.”

“You actually want to clean off?” Ren asks. Martyn narrows his eyes.

“I’m not entirely disgusting,” Martyn says, “I spent all of this morning pushing rubble around. I should take a bath anyway.”

“If you’d like to finish work early, I’ll help you draw one,” Ren offers, and Martyn nods. Ren pries himself off the ground, and when he stands, he’s taller than Martyn. He almost laughs to himself—small and delicate indeed.

Filling Martyn’s bath is a team effort. Martyn has an easier time operating the well, what with his hands making the whole process of tying knots and turning cranks much smoother. When the bucket is full of water and out of the well, he hands it to Ren, who carries it back to the bathroom with ease.

“You’re dusty,” Martyn notes, dumping one bucket into the tub, “How do you clean off? Could I just brush it all out?”

“That could work,” Ren says, “Maybe wet rags?”

“I don’t want you to smell like wet dog forever,” Martyn groans, “But if I brush out that much dust and fur, I’m just going to have to sweep again.”

“Such is life, living with a monster,” Ren says, amused. Martyn groans.

“Everyone warns you with magic beasts how you might get eaten or something,” Martyn says, “No one warns you about all the godamn sweeping.”

A few more buckets see the bath full. Martyn doesn’t even bother to dismiss Ren before he starts untying the clasp at the back of his dress.

“Martyn! Hold on, let me leave. I should give you some privacy,” Ren says, a bit embarrassed, but Martyn seems surprised he cares.

“Why? It’s not like it matters,” Martyn dismisses, “Plus, I know you’ll get lonely if I kick you out.”

“It’s hardly appropriate,” Ren argues. Martyn shrugs.

“It’s just us in this whole castle, Ren. Plus, you’re not even human, so why do you care?” Martyn says, “I’ve changed in front of you before, anyway.”

The first and last points are true enough—no one in the castle is going to scold them for indecency, and Martyn has changed from nightdress to working clothes in Ren’s bedroom a few times before.

Ren had thought that a sign of trust. Knowing Martyn simply doesn’t think of him as human enough to care not to change in front of him, it…

“…I guess,” Ren agrees, though he still averts his eyes as Martyn drops the rest of his day clothes and climbs into the bath. He settles his arms along the edge of the tub with a long sigh, then tilts his head back at Ren.

“I’ll only take a few minutes,” Martyn says, “You can just hang out, I guess.”

Ren hums to prove he’s heard, then finds a place to lie down somewhere at the edge of the room. His heart stings, though he knows it shouldn’t surprise him.

After all, if Martyn really did think of Ren the way Ren does Martyn, then Ren wouldn’t be lying on cold tile across the room.

Ren turns his head away from Martyn entirely, watching the floor. He hears water slosh as Martyn moves, but he doesn’t think about it. He’ll never be himself again, he knows—the one shot he has to try, and the man doesn’t even think of him as human. If soft hands make him worthy of love, he’ll never measure up.

So he thinks about now. He thinks about his body as it is, as it always will be. In his mind, Martyn doesn’t hold him softly or kiss his paws. He’s too big, too clumsy, too monstrous for gentle care. Instead, Martyn lies on Ren’s bed, torso pinned under one large paw. Claws rest against Martyn’s skin, but they do not break, and Martyn does not fear them. Martyn is perfectly at peace as Ren presses closer, as Ren presses his tongue against Martyn’s face, against his neck, down his arms, across his chest. He tastes of salt after a day spent hard at work, and Ren can feel Martyn’s muscle twitch when he moves, same as how he used to watch. All the while, Martyn scratches at his face, dragging blunt nails down his nose or under his chin, seeking out the sound of Ren’s tail thumping on the bed. Ren’s teeth, large and beastly and out in the open, brush too near to Martyn’s face, and Martyn kisses his exposed fang.

Could Martyn love a monster? Could Ren be worthy like this, too? If the curse can ever break, he’ll have to be.

But Ren always knew his curse was unbreakable, didn’t he?

“—n? Ren? Are you listening to me?” Martyn asks. Ren cracks an eye open—Martyn’s still in the tub, leaning over the edge closest to Ren.

“Hm?” Ren asks, “No, I dozed off.”

“I don’t understand how you fall asleep on the floor so often,” Martyn says, “I’m going to dry off and get dressed, then I’ll help you clean the dust out of your fur. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Ren says, and he doesn’t look away as Martyn stands, reaching for his towel.

If Martyn thinks anything of Ren staring, he doesn’t say.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

A man and his shadow

[pluviatrix]

lily, carnation | chrysanthemum, hyacinth

snotting abt 2003 elrics. please god can they have one good day

this is 4 a 2003 zine that will be bouncin around soon C: