#again sorry op

[logosbot-tm]

Sorry for hijacking your post, I just-

Yeah.

Is this trend still funny?

[soranker]

laios985

[yellowistheraddest]

LOOK THEY'RE BOTH WORLD FAMOUS BLONDE CHEFS WHO TRAVEL AND HAVE AN AESTHETIC RELATED TO FLAMES, THEY ARE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ms-all-sunday]

who knew shed inspire such blind loyalty?

[ato-dato]

Really wanted to redraw this drawing from January

[dykealloy]

i really hate recommending things on the grounds of "yeah just put 1000 hours into it and it'll start getting crazy good" but you should watch one piece

[achivement-unlocked]

*shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you shoots you shoo*

Stealing this shit because it's true

[spaceistheplaceart]

once again thinking about @void-dude's static ford. ough.

check this out

[mintypsii]

why is bro trying to take all the credit

[cwispihae]

Some Water 7 Sanuso just in case it hasn't hurt you in a while :') ✨

[starmage-constellar]

ok im not putting this in tags because this is too important to me but basically i got into vocal synths and stuff like. 2018-2019 ish. and the first non-miku synth i found out about was xingchen/stardust and i didn't even know anything about like, the chinese language or anything like that but i just really liked space aesthetics. and i also thought she was just so gorgeous and stuff but anyways xingchen basically became my #1 fave synth for a while

but then i had this phase in like 2020 where i was OBSESSED with korean media and so i found out about UNI and seeu and naturally iwas like "tch... seeu's overrated UNI'S MY GIRL. SEND POST!!" and i scraped youtube for as much uni content as i could (in english because i was lazy) and so UNI became one of my faves too

now you might be sensing a pattern here where im insane about the more obscure vocal synth voices. and so of course. at some point. i find xin hua. and her design was like. It Spoke To Me. and then i listened to some popular songs with her and i fell in love. and just- everything about her? i love her so much? and now she's literally my number one all time favorite vocaloid no questions asked no competition no nothing she beats out your faves inmy brain. Xin Hua is my Girl.

that being said. this fanart. as simple as it is. incited a very emotional reaction out of me and ive never felt this way towards any sort of vocaloid fanart in the world. and i feel like maybe this piece was crafted for me to find In This Moment. thank you asker thank you op thank you universe for aligning the stars. this fanart is going on the fridge in my brain. do you SEE THEM. DO YOU SEE MY GIRLS HANGING OUT TOGETHER RIGHT THERE??? THOSE ARE MY GIRLS THEY MADE ME WHO I AM TODAY. AND XIN HUA MY DAUGHTER MY LOVE MY BELOVED SHES IN THE CENTER OF IT ALL.

could you draw uni or xin hua or xingchen please? :)

All three are friends, dont @ me

[cupothi]

some buggys and shuggys and me

[flowercrowngods]

this wouldn't leave me alone, so have my thoughts on a steve-centric "who did this to you?" steddie concept inspired by @imfinereallyy (i hope this is okay, even though it's uhhh nothing like what you mentioned)

When Eddie gets to the boathouse, he immediately notices that something is off. The door is cracked open but he can’t hear anyone talking or moving stuff around. No one ever comes here — it’s been his hideout spot since the ripe age of thirteen when he’d had hist first real fight with Wayne. 

No one comes here. But now the door is cracked open and Eddie stares at it for a good minute as though that would make it come to life and tell him who’s inside so he won’t have to look and deal with whoever decided to steal his spot. He’s really not in the mood to start any shit today, or to be called all sorts of names — most of which aren’t even half as true as people fear. 

His first instinct is to leave, find somewhere else to hide from this miserable world today, when he hears it. The sound of sniffling, followed by wet, heavy breaths. 

Oh. It sounds like someone’s crying. In his spot.

Maybe it’s some girl who got her heart broken, some dude who lost the last bit of faith in his family, or some kid who— 

Ah, fuck it, he’ll just come back later. Not his problem. Definitely not his problem. And it’s definitely not guilt or worry that gnaw at him as he turns on his heel to leave. 

But then there’s a groan. A pained groan. Someone’s in pain, and crying in his spot, and Eddie really shouldn’t make that his problem. He shouldn't. Nopbody cares when he's crying and in pain either! But fuck if he won’t be thinking about it for the rest of his life if he turns his back on whoever it is. Maybe they need help. 

They most certainly sound like they do.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie is already at the door before he can think about it too much. 

“Hello?” he asks the darkness, and immediately the sniffling stops. 

Silence falls, but only for a moment before whoever it is has to draw shaky, wheezing breaths that make Eddie swear under his breath. 

“Listen, I know you’re here.” He’s taking slow, deliberate steps, his eyes roaming he mess of boats, tools and tarp he knows so well.  “And I’m not trying to start anything. Tell me to go away and I will. But I have a first aid kit in my car and, uh, you sound like maybe you need it.” 

There’s no response, but the wheezing breaths turn into whimpers with every second that whoever it is tries very hard not to make any noise, and Eddie’s heart starts to race in his chest. He can feel worry and panic starting to rise. And overshadowing it is an overwhelming sense of dread.

What the fuck is happening? 

He tries to be careful but his mind is racing and his limbs are starting to feel like lead. His wary steps become heavy and clumsy, and then he accidentally boots something that makes a terrible, horrible noise, breaking the eerie silence. Eddie cringes and is about to apologise, when finally there is movement in his peripheral vision. 

And then he sees him. There, hidden in the shadows between a boat and the far wall, his face breaten and bloodied, his eye swelling around a nasty bruise. Wait, do bruises bleed? Should they look black like that? Is it a cut? Something worse?

Even after years of constant bullying and goading in middle school and high school, he has never actually seen someone look like this. With their face completely smashed in. It makes him freeze for a horrible, horrible moment before he saps out of it.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, hurrying over as fast as he can, stumbling over tools and tarp as he does. Something falls to the floor with a loud clunk and it makes the boy flinch again. Eddie curses. “Sorry, shit, sorry!” 

He makes it to the boat rather quickly, crouching down in front of the boy a few feet away so as not to spook him, not to crowd him. And then his heart only plummets further, because he knows this one. 

Steve Harrington. The boy who’s come to school with many a black eye over the past two years — but never this bad. The boy who’s been looking like the world might be about to end each time he rounded a corner in school; ever since things started happening around Hawkins. Since the Holland girl died and the Byers boy disappeared. 

It fascinated Eddie, the way Steve fell from grace. The way he turned quiet, and showed up with healing bruises. There are stories woven around it, because teenagers like to gossip and word spreads fast, and Eddie always listened with rapt attention as Harrington turned into a bit of a myth. A legend. A ghost story.

But fascination is not what he feels right now, seeing Steve like this.

His eyes are unfocused and Eddie knows about the danger of head injuries. He knows about the consequences of blood loss, he knows that Steve will be warm to the touch even though he’s shivering already, and… Fuck!

“Shit, Steve,” he rasps, not daring to speak louder lest he spooks the boy. Of all the reasons he’s had to be afraid of talking to Steve Harrington, this one might be the cruellest. "I..."

He takes in his wounds, his bruised and scraped knuckles where his hands are wrapped around the knees he’s pulled to his chest, and his split lip that he keeps biting. 

Eddie swallows before he asks, “Who did this to you?” 

But Steve just shakes his head clumsily. Sniffles again, and then his breath comes in wet heaves, and Eddie worries for a moment that he’s going to throw up now. 

He doesn’t. 

Steve’s just staring. Eddie isn’t even entirely sure he can see him, or maybe he did and then forgot, or maybe he’s fading. Eddie should do something, he should get help, he should— 

“Steve,” he says, and dares to touch him when he doesn’t react. 

A light touch to the knee shouldn’t make anyone flinch like that, but Steve’s whole body jumps, and then the shivers and the wheezing get worse. It almost sounds like a whimper, and Eddie curses again. Feels like crying now, scared and helpless as he is.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay, I— Jesus, okay.” He swallows hard, trying to think, willing for the panic to subside and a plan to form. “You’re okay. I... I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab the first aid kit. I have it in my car. It’s not, it’s not far. And a blanket. So you'll be warm again. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move, don’t…" He gestures wildly, caught between reaching out and pulling away. "Don’t move.” 

Eddie takes a wavering breath and moves to stand on numb, tingly legs, nearly missing Steve’s, “Can’t.” It’s barely more than a whisper, hardly even a wheeze. It’s like he’s just breathing out words because everything else is too much effort. 

Right. Right. This is messed up and Eddie’s panicking, but Steve will be okay. Because things like that don’t happen, not here, not today, and not to Steve Harrington. 

Except this is Hawkins. Where Will Byers disappeared and Barb Holland died and many people are missing and weird shit just ends up happening everywhere even though they’re all just kids. They’re just kids. And Steve’s not even conscious enough to realise that right now. 

Eddie all but runs outside, sprinting to his van with a speed that would make the coach swallow his stupid whistle if gym class only mattered right now. It doesn't. Nothing matters, because Steve is... He's hurt. And there's no one else around to help.

Grabbing the first aid kit, a bottle of water and a thick blanket he always keeps spread out in the back of his van, he makes it back to the boathouse in no time. 

He wasn’t even gone for three minutes, but still he sighs in relief when Steve is still awake. He even looks up. Blinks. Frowns in what can only be confusion and makes Eddie's heart fall.

“Munson?” 

Fuck, that’s not a good sign. That’s messed up, it’s fucked up, it’s— Focus, Eddie! 

“The one and only,” he says, voice shaky and his smile not fooling anyone. He wraps the blanket around Steve, whose eyes are unfocused again, though he tries so hard to blink it away. 

Brave boy, stupid boy. Head trauma isn’t blinked away. Though Eddie is inclined to let him try. Maybe he’ll find a way. 

“Here.” He hands the bottle over to Steve, who grabs it with clumsy hands. He can hold it, but he can’t get it open — again, not a good sign. 

Eddie opens it for him, then turns to his first aid kit. It seemed like a great idea five minutes ago, but he’s petrified now. It’s too dark in here and he can’t really see the wounds, he doesn’t know what to use, what’s in there, he doesn’t, he can’t, he— 

The bottle, empty now, is handed back to him, bumping into his hand, tearing him away from his spiralling thoughts. 

“Thanks,” Harrington breathes, and there’s a small smile visible in the darkness. Eddie just nods and takes it with hands that are still shaking.

“I wanna help you,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “But I don’t know how. You gotta tell me where it hurts, Steve.” 

A beat. “Everywhere.” 

Eddie sags, falling back to sit opposite Steve, frantically rubbing at his face. “Shit.” 

“Yeah.” Steve chuckles, but it sounds so wet with tears and pain, Eddie never wants to hear it again. “Thought I could do it.” 

He’s talking. That’s a good thing, right? He can’t pass out as long as he’s talking. That’s how that works, isn’t it? So, Eddie asks, “Do what?” 

“Doctors told me,” Steve sighs, his voice slow and slurring. “Told me to... to stay out of fights. Stay out of them. Said I had to make sure my head won’t—“ 

He makes a motion with his fist, and Eddie thinks he’s simulating a punch, disoriented as it is. It makes his heart fall. Is that what happened? Someone beat Steve to a pulp? Again? Just like that?

Eddie is so stuck on that thought, trying to piece together the puzzle, that he almost misses Steve’s mumbled speech. 

“Y’know, th— Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.” He says it to matter-of-factly that Eddie’s heart stops for a second.

What the fuck happened to Steve Harrington? Not just today, no. What happened to him?

What happend to make him look up at Eddie Munson, out of all people, with glistening eyes so endlessly scared, and say, “I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture. I can't—” A wheeze, a keen, a whimper, and Harringtin pulls at his hair, uncaring that he's making things worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is stuck on his words. Because what. 

“Can’t, can't die now ‘cause Tommy thinks he’s so… He’s… He’s just sad, man. Griev'n' and confused. But Billy’s gone, an'— And now I’ll…”

Steve looks at him now, his eyes shining with tears and something that Eddie’s written poems about and created characters around. This expression, like the world will end. And inspiring as it is, it fucking breaks his heart now. 

“They said my brain is hurt, Eddie.”

Eddie swallows the hurt and the fear and the complete overwhelm he's feeling. Steve is telling him things that Eddie doesn't know how to handle.

“You won’t die, Steve,” he says in as gentle a voice as he can muster right now, because that's the only thing he knows.

And he won’t, right? People don’t just die. Not from taking a punch, not when they just graduated high school, not when they’re Steve Harrington. Right? 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Steve breathes. “That’s good.” 

Eddie wants to hug him in that moment. He never knew that this was possible, wanting to hug Steve Harrington, wanting to wrap the blanket around him even tighter and keep him safe and convince him that he won’t die. 

And then the rest of what he said catches up with Eddie and leaves anger in its wake. 

“Hagan did that to you?” 

Steve nods. “Started going off about Billy.”

Eddie’s blood freezes at that name. "Hargrove?” 

Another nod, though Steve doesn’t look too happy about moving his head, and he groans quietly. “They were friends. Tommy is angry. Grieving. Con— Confused. He was just saying shit, like it’s my fault. And it is. Kinda. But Tommy’s, he, he’s... Just saying shit. And then he punched me. A lot. And he didn’t stop. And now… is now.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes dumbly, carefully bandaging the glaring wound at his temple, needing to start somewhere. “Now is now.” His blood is still frozen as he tries very hard not to listen to Steve. Nothing that Harrington says has any right to matter anything to him; they live in two different worlds. If Harrington confesses to murder while severely concussed under Eddie’s watch, then there are no witnesses to drag either of them through the mud for it. Eddie is just gonna forget about it. Or try, anyway. “But you’re… Shit , Steve, you’re really hurt.” 

Steve blinks. Pauses. And Eddie thinks he’s lost him. But then, “Yeah. I’m always hurt.” 

And that, in this little voice, is like a gut punch. Because Eddie knows something about always hurt. “What?” 

“What?” 

There is ice in his veins as he asks, “Who’s hurting you, Steve?” 

Steve looks at him, opening his mouth once, twice, like he’s about to say something and Eddie holds his breath. But then Steve’s eyes droop and he shrinks in on himself a bit more. 

“Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.” 

Know what, Harrington? Eddie can barely breathe anymore.

“’M tired, Eddie,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes. “Don’t wanna hurt anymore.” 

“Hey, hey, no!” Eddie reaches out, catching Steve’s head and preventing it from colliding with the floor as he’s slumping and falling over. 

And just like that, the panic is back, frantic but determined this time. He’s going to get help; there’s nothing he can do with his lousy first aid kit, not when Steve keeps going in and out of consciousness like that. Not when he can barely see anything or clean the wounds properly.

He’s going to get Steve to a hospital and allow them both to forget this ever happened. Because Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson don’t breathe the same air or share traumatic stories in a boathouse like this. 

He’ll get out of Steve’s hair the second the hospital doors close behind him, and get out of whatever trouble someone like Harrington could be in. Eddie doesn’t even want to know. He doesn't want to be part of his ghost story.

But as he’s scooping him up and helping him out of the damned boathouse, clumsily preventing him from stumbling over his own feet or tools or tarp or planks or whatever fucking shit is littering the floor of this godforsaken place, he can hear Steve speaking quietly. 

"Where‘re we going?"

And even though a second ago he was determined to take Steve to a hospital, there is only one place on Eddie's mind right now. Only one place he knows where he won't be scared anymore.

"Somewhere safe," he says, tightening his hold on the boy even though his hands are shaking now, too. He looks over his shoulders the moment they're out of the boathouse, stupidly worried that whoever did this to Steve – Hagan, apparently – would still be around, would follow them and do the same shit to Eddie.

"Safe?"

"Safe."

"Okay," Steve sighs, like he believes him. Like he trusts him. Hell, they've never even spoken before, but something inside Eddie breaks at the little sigh, at the way Steve goes slack in his arms. And even more at the little, "Thanks."

If Eddie's eyes are filled with tears and the hands around the wheel are clenched so tight to hide the way they're shaking, then Steve is not conscious enough to comment on it.

(addendum 7 december) onwards to part 2

[riddleredcoats]

Fuck, I need to Extend on this (sorry, OP) because I kept thinking about this and it is Actually Making Me Want To Bite Things.

I have found that Consumption Of The Self while very much the Theme of DAI is, more broadly the theme of DA as a whole. I think that each of the games encapsulates it in its own way; Consumption through Sacrifice (in DAO) (the Warden, Alistair, Morrigan all embody it in some way, as do the other companions (Loghain included)), Consumption through Extremism (DA2) (Hawke who is forced to pick a side in a way that irrevocably destroys their self and all they did before and sets the world on fire, Fenris, Anders, Meredith and Orsino, etc, etc).

But DAI explores consumption through a very interesting sub-theme, that of Forgiveness.

(it got too big for me to be able to be Comfortable with it loose, so under the cut)

I love how DAI, imo, is dipped in forgiveness and it gives the player the opportunity to set each character - and even each main quest and each organization they encounter - on the path to forgiveness or simple not to.

Cassandra’s past can be forgiven, you guide her to a more accepting path; her rebuilding the Seekers feels like forgiveness for what they have done - and forgiveness does mean forget or let them get away scot-free, it can mean accepting the mistakes and trying to be better. Varic always escapes the themes of the games, I find; he is very much in the middle of it all, which is why he doesn’t really have approval in the Main Quests, but even he has a subtheme of forgiveness with Bianca. Sera is famously a contentious character, but she also embodies the theme; forgiveness for her caretaker, forgiveness for how brash she can be, forgiveness because she is so good and so young and wants so many good things for the people. Vivienne, whose past is marked by her overcoming the adversity put in front of her, is naturally guarded, has opinions that she will not change, and her forgiveness comes from the fact that she cannot save the love of her life, that she has done all there is to be done, and she needs to forgive herself for not being enough through no fault of her own; sometimes things are simply beyond her control. Dorian’s path to forgiveness is two fold; with Tevinter and his father. Iron Bull; the Qun and the lying, and the fact that he does and has done things that are not forgivable but he is trying to do better and you can affirm his path of redemption. Cole... I mean [gestures to Cole as a whole]. Blackwall.... [gestures once again].

And with the main quests! Man, whatever it is that you chose: Templars VS Mages, you get to chose whether or not you forgive them or not; by accepting to work with them or demanding they submit to you. The Wardens! You can have them join you or not; it’s the same thing. You get to chose what you do, what type of Inquisitor you get to do. WPHW and the elves that attacked you, that let their people down, that try to hide knowledge. Calpernia and Samson as well, in different parts of the spectrum. The Chantry’s past through Ameridan, and the Exalted Plain, and all that comes with it in a thousand little choices.

And sometimes, there is such a thing as the Unforgivable, and that is where it becomes interesting.

I find it fascinating when you reconcile forgiveness with the theme of consumption and how one get whittled down to nothing. And that consumption can have two distinct outcomes (I mean, more, obviously, but like generalizing): you can surrender more easily to Forgiveness, or you can resist it.

I think that what exemplifies this the best is WEWH, mostly because of what I said in that Orlais exemplified consumption very well because of the masks, and the nobles, and The Game as a whole. Regardless of what you feel about the potential people in charge, they are all a fascinating study of forgiveness; especially when you consider the “Combo” Endings.

Celene and Briala have an incredibly contentious relationship, arguably irredeemable and unforgivable. But... they do forgive; there is a desire there to try, whatever you may think of the relationship, and that wraps the quest and characters in its veil, creating not the very “best ending” - I would argue that there is a hint of ominousness with the whole “...who knows how long the reconciliation will last” - but very much close to it. And it does come from a whittling down on both sides; Celene, who is so tired of war and of trying to Be Better when everything (her very nature and all her nurture) is against her, and Briala  by the simple act of living in a world that hates her and her people but has this one person that (whatever you think of Celene’s reforms) has tried to love her and her people to the best of her abilities, and they find in each other a sort of lifeline that I don’t necessarily think they could find with anyone else considering their goals and their history - that history that did include them consuming each other because they were so lost in each other and their goals that they didn’t know where one began and another one ended, which is why the end of TME is so good, they finally separate their politics while still wanting to be together - and it’s this beautiful complex jumble of forgiveness and struggle that tries to defy the past of their relationship to build something new and better.

The dubious honor of the worst ending (as a whole for Orlais and the people they rule) goes to the truce, because these three are so mired in their hate, in their struggle to come out on top, in the angles that each pull at, that they cannot find a way to reconcile for the good of the nation, and keep hashing out their problems in the present despite the fact that they do not have to because they have this chance to finally Be Better and Try To Do Better. And it does consume them, and eventually it will consume the nation as well (well, I don’t know where DA4 goes, but it should!)

And this is such a good microcosm of Solas tbh, that it almost makes me Mad because he integrates theme so well in a way prepares the future of the series. Solas could forgive, not Evanuris obviously, but the fact that the people that survived don’t know everything and that they are living lives worth living (which he does figure out, but can’t really arrive at the Epiphany that it is okay for him to let them be). He could forgive himself, he could let it go and let himself just be with his people, give them and others the advise so that  the mistakes of the past do not become the mistakes of the present. But he can’t, and he is being consumed by the thoughts of what should be, not what is, and forgiveness is simply not a possibility when he has been consumed by what has been done, by what he did, that he cannot even fathom another path. And, instead of building new and better, he is hashing out the past in the present. And that is going to be crucial in DA4, and all that will come after, because how could it not.

This consumption of self as the titles you have been given (or even fought for) eclipse all that you actually are is Integral for DA as a whole, I find. The very history and legend of this world is seeped in it; in the way that stories overtake reality, in the way that propaganda becomes truth, in the way that no one is really free of bias and it trickles down to us as players. I love fantasy settings that use vaguely European history (because I am a basic bitch, yo) but DA is special because there is this thing going on about the dangers of the difference between what was and what has been told. The actions of every one of your PCs can be twisted and wrapped in whoever views their actions; what they did - the actual facts of it - will exist but the aura around it, the details and intricacies of each decision, will be left in the dust. There will never be a perfect interpretation of your PCs actions, and in the end - whatever happens, whatever path you take, whatever it is that you might do to try and mitigate the damage of that consumption - it is the consumption that will win; because you are not in control of the narrative, no matter how much you think you are.

If Dragon Age II is about being doomed by the narrative, Dragon Age: Inquisition is about being devoured by the narrative. From the very beginning the Inquisitor is slowly being devoured by their mark. Being devoured by this organization they did not ask to join and are not allowed to leave. Begin devoured by the titles they can't reject and the story that swells around them, out of their control. Uncovering the tragic story of the first Inquisitor who tried to appease the same monster, and was devoured by it anyway--his nation, his culture, his very name and identity. And then watching the Inquisition, grown too large to be safe, begin to devour itself while Orlais watches it hungrily and Ferelden (remembering what it means to be devoured) asks how to put down the beast before it eats them all. The Inquisitor now fighting physically not to be devoured, trying to free themselves from the monster's teeth without losing more than an arm. Do they succeed?

[kacievvbbbb]

Look Mihawk’s eyes definitely glow in the dark and this fact definitely threw Shanks of the first time he learned it which coincidently was during their *coughs* first time. But it’s kind of hot and he’s grown used to it now……mostly.

Because you know Mihawk is definetly the type of dude to never turn on a light ever and with his propensity for staring unblinkingly and his half hazard middle of the night sleeping habits. It’s a bit of a bit of a problem .

the years Shanks has lost of his life waking up to a floating pair of shimmering golden and ringed eyes staring at him in complete darkness he will never gain back and are best not talked out.

Also imagine if Mihawk is prone to midnight snacking (making up for all the food he doesn’t eat during the day to maintain his vampiric reputation) so many a red haired pirate have woken the ship with Shrieks having stumbled into the very dark kitchen to see a pair of otherworldly eyes completely demolishing a plate of leftovers or an entire charcuterie board staring right into their soul.

Ben and Yasopp have almost shot him multiple times(with only one of those times being on purpose) Many a crew member has solicited Shanks to get his boyfriend exorcised and the ship cleansed. In 2 years the closest Zoro ever came to cutting Mihawk was while blindly flailing his swords around in the dark trying to fend of the kitchen demon that besieged him during his midnight beer run. This will happen every night, they never talk about it. Zoro never figures out it’s Mihawk and is pretty sure the Kitchen is haunted. Won’t keep him from his midnight protein shake (he is no longer allowed beer)

Perona is the only person who is even slightly normal about this (she lived on thriller bark floating pair of eyes in the dark is child’s play) she just switches on the very bright white kitchen lights, effectively blinding Mihawk and leaving his terrible posture and he use of his precious kogatana to eat meatballs exposed to the light. She gets a cup of water turns off the light and leaves. The next day Mihawk buys her a new dress they never speak of this again.

[skillissue71]

I love u unnamedperson71. Do u have any tender hug nellis drawings? 👀💕

that one..... voiceline... in the game... where you know.... certain conditions.....