#I just love flowers

[flesh-beneath-my-teeth]

flowers.

[happyheidi]

𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗎 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 ♡

𝗏𝗂𝖺: 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅_𝗓𝗈𝗈

[mienar]

the wandering painter, part one

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[cowgirls-blues]

They're turning a new feather!

@quiddie ACOFAF 2 when???

[hinamie]

corvidae

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[kavaleyre]

“After 200 years, you can forget how much color there is in the world.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

You made her cry, time to die.

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[hadesoftheladies]

being unwilling to accept degradation on any level as a woman makes people so mad at you lmao. no i will not exist and walk around like i am here to be performative art and not a human being fuck you

[tr4shypuppy]

"already it's only been ou-" YES ALREADY I NEED NEW WALLACE CONTENT ASAP.

[sunshikilo]

wanderer's adventures in sumeru

THANK YOU FOR 70 FOLLOWERS BY THE WAY!! some news, i made an offical art twitter account! 🥳 its @/marsunshi and i linked it, right now im focused on genshin there and will be a lot more active, but im still going to try and post mcsm content here because i have Many wips ^^ i also have my ao3 linked there and i have a few drafts of mcsm works that i might post at some point..who knows

[happyheidi]

𝖵𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗏𝖺𝗇 𝖦𝗈𝗀𝗁'𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗌

1- 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘈𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 1888 2- 𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘚𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵-𝘙𝘦́𝘮𝘺-𝘥𝘦-𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘍𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘺 1890 3- 𝘗𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘈𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘈𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘭 1888 4- 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘖𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘝𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘰𝘨𝘩, 𝘈𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘈𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘭 1888

[itzitxou]

Local god loves his ghost very much.

[sunhealings]

You can learn a lot of things from the flowers for especially in the month of June

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

[poatop]

🪻Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy🪻