#but I never posted them anywhere

[radcalculator]

Yuris from a few years back 💕

[gumdefense]

We have moved past Maya and Franziska wingmanning narumitsu as a society. They would not fucking do that. We need to realise the truth which is that Larry and Gumshoe would try to wingman them and only succeed through failure

[nbabycallie]

cute date idea

[dizzybizz]

an edyn design but i will most definitely futz with the outfit when i have brainjuice for it gill with pretzel babywrap inspired by my brother who listened to maybe half of ep1 and got it in his head that pretzel was tied to his stomach, not on his hip and i screamed when he told me no thoughts head empty sketch of gill pose

[datdolphin]

[lovethytendytenderly]

Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy // an edit a day til penguins hockey, a countdown (day 16)

x x

[tedlebred]

thought I'd share my splatoon drawing I posted in the square for pride month. I want to terrorise splatsville

[stiffyck]

Still occasionally think about that one online friend who just. Disappeared one day.

I hope wherever they are they're okay....

[cryptidclownz]

updated ref of my oc naryn!

no bg + scarred alternate

i tried my hand at writing a little scene of the whole naryn/lamb backstory!! im not super proud of it but i dont usually share my writing so i figured i might as well!

—

Another crusade through Darkwood gave the lamb time to think. To unwind. Slaughtering beasts and heretics was a favorite pastime of theirs, but their followers grew ever needy. Demanding. They dreaded a request for materials that would be better spent on medicine and worship, but the scolding their god would give them if they refused was just as infuriating. A leader must provide, he would tell them. Your followers will dissent without proper care. Coddling, more like. Lambert was not a gentle leader, and they had no intention to be one. As much as they wished they could toss their flock to the wolves and go on about their life, The Lamb knew Narinder was right. Their flock would be rewarded for hard work and good behavior, any recruits would find their new life comfortable as long as they behaved. If they didn’t, The One Who Waits had no issue if a follower appeared in his realm in the middle of the night now and then.

Although they were out to gather camellias for a follower desperate to win one of their disciple’s affection, Lambert felt right at home in the dungeons. They handled heretics and monsters with relative ease, well acquainted with the tricks enemy cultists thought would fool them.

The Lamb walked, bored, through another few clearings, only sometimes remembering their original task and picking a few flowers to toss into the crown’s infinite storage. A soft rustling in the trees, the telling shuffling of feet on the ground. The Lamb’s sword was drawn before the ambush had even landed around them.

Boring. Predictable.

They went after the boldest attacker first; a smaller hooded figure than the others who carried an unproportionately large axe. It swung at them, but the weight of the axe slowed it down. The blade of The Lamb’s sword hit the axe’s hilt, slamming it down just inches away from their hooves with unexpected power. The heretic wasn’t given the time to pry its weapon out of the dirt before the Lamb swung at its neck, slicing past muscle and bone with a sickening slap.

The Lamb didn’t behead it, leaving the near-dead heretic to scream in agony for a few moments before it finally died. They were unphased by the rest of the troop storming toward them, having learned by now that heretics don’t take the time to mourn their fallen.

The sword almost seemed to move on its own; slicing through the throats of some and gutting others. Lambert cast a curse in the direction of the two remaining, though the tentacles that rose from the ground only caught one. The Lamb didn’t mind. They preferred to do the work themselves, anyway.

They gripped the handle of the crown’s sword tightly, taking chase after the last remaining heretic. The Lamb moved with powerful, calculated steps, letting the runner think it had a chance to get away. It wasn’t every day that an attacker would try to run, after all.

–

The heretic bolted.

He ran with all of his might, adrenaline willing his trembling body forward despite the gash in his side and the blood of his troop that stained his person. The uniformed hood he wore fell back with every desperate leap forward, and the cold air that rushed past his fur made the tips of his ears burn. He didn’t dare look back, too afraid to see the figure of that monster behind him. The heretic hardly noticed the tears that whipped past his cheeks, wet and sticky like the rest of the blood that coated him. Not his blood. He was alive, even if his friends weren’t. Gods, they were gone, weren’t they? They were-

His foot caught on a slippery root. The cat was flat on the ground before he could feel the sharp sting of pain from his ankle.

“No,” He choked out, voice hoarse. “No, no, no, no-”

Slow, heavy footsteps cut off his thoughts. The heretic kicked and clawed desperately at the dirt beneath him, but his movements were frantic and uncoordinated. The Lamb would have found it funny if they weren’t irritated by the sticky residue coating their arms and fleece. They approached the hooded figure so slowly it was cruel, listening to the panicked breaths and gasps that came from it.

“Rise, heretic,” Their voice was horrifyingly level, and the hooded figure could spot the glint of their sword out of the corner of his eye as they lifted it towards him. He was going to die.

“P-Please,” The voice that sounded from the heretic was quiet and shaky, but his limbs trembled more violently as he propped himself up on his forearms and cautiously turned. With his ankle still caught on the root, the cat was forced to twist his body to look up. His hood slowly fell from his ears, no longer casting any shadows on his face. He was going to die. “Please, spare me.”

The Lamb froze.

They stared down at the heretic before them, eyes widening in a state of shock that was entirely foreign to them.

A black cat stared back, the dark amber of his tear-filled eyes glinting red in the sparse lighting of the Darkwood forest. His long, pointed ears pinned back against his skull, the tips nearly pressing together. His fur was blood-splattered and matting in the direction of the drying redness, but the Lamb could still see that perfect black beneath it. Their eyes shifted to the heretic’s forehead, where a discolored splatter of blood stained the fur. At least, that’s what they thought it was.

Their eyes narrowed.

The Lamb moved closer, stepping over the root that the cowardly heretic was trapped underneath. They stood in front of him, sword lowered but still pointed near the cat’s head. Unsatisfied by what they saw, the Lamb lowered to a squat, causing him to gasp and flinch back. His eyes screwed shut, awaiting the same agonizing pain that he’d just witnessed his troop suffer.

And yet, it never came. Instead, he felt a hand on the top of his head, firmly planted but not suggesting any malice. The Lamb took a moment to feel his fur. Soft, they realized. Such a familiar texture.

Their hand moved further down, landing on the red blood on the heretic’s forehead. They pressed down and slid their hand to the side, expecting it to smear or crumble off entirely. When that didn’t happen, their breath quickened. The cat didn’t know why. He pried his eyes slowly open, pupils dilated about as far as they would go. He searched the Lamb’s expression warily, but he was about as lost as they were. It was hard to distinguish exactly what this was. Excitement? Fear? Confusion? Maybe it was a mix of everything. The source of their confliction, however, was no question.

This heretic was the spitting image of The One Who Waits, down to the most subtle stripes in his fur and the red in his eyes. The red mark on his forehead was distinctly eye-shaped, like some sort of mimic of their god’s divine features. It was almost revolting, the fact that a lowly heretic would be blessed with such features–- such mockery. The Lamb’s expression hardened, and the heretic noticed. He wanted to pull away, to scream, to plead for his life, but the heretic’s throat ran dry. He could only watch as the Lamb continued to inspect him as if they were searching for just one inconsistency; one reason to kill the vile mimic that tried to fool them. There were none.

“You...” The Lamb began, dropping their hand to the underside of his jaw and jerking his head up. There was no telling what went on in their head, even as their sword warped back into the shape of a crown and sat atop their head. Their glare seemed to soften a moment later. “Where have you been?”

[thursdayinspace]

another random question but what do you think would have happened if scully had never gotten abducted?

i love this question. i mean, long-term, it would have changed *a lot*. no cancer arc, which would be the biggest and most obvious change. but what would it have changed right then and there? the abduction definitely impacted their partnership and their friendship.

in one way, it brought things to the surface, especially for mulder. he wasn't unaware of her importance in his life before the abduction. telling his tape recorder that he could only trust himself and now he can only trust her? telling her that the only reason he could see to stay with the fbi was if they were working together? he was already relying on her presence in his life. a lot. but when she was taken from him, i think he felt a fear and despair that he would not have anticipated. it's one thing to know you need someone who is right there, and who will set up secret meetings in a parking garage, and who, even if you *can't* right now, is someone you know deep down you *could* reach out to. it's another thing to need someone who is gone.

so in that way, i think he did become aware that he was feeling more than he had realized. and that realization definitely had an impact on their relationship. but there's another side to it:

the abduction was the first time he became aware of *his* role in *her* life. and what he saw there wasn't good. because mulder being mulder, of course he takes responsibility, of course he blames himself. the fact that none of it was his fault doesn't matter. this is when he realizes that their quest, *his* quest, is putting her in real, life-threatening danger. and that thought never leaves him again. we see that guilt that takes root in his mind there all the way up into the revival. so that is a huge thing. he would have eventually found other things to blame himself for. mulder takes things personally and holds himself accountable for things that are completely outside of his control. so if it hadn't been this, it would have been something else. because things would still have happened to her. but being abducted and being gone for that long and coming back on the brink of death? that, for lack of a better expression, really fucked them both up in a big way.

so, what is my answer to your question? i don't know. i mean, for one, scully's side of the story is still completely missing from this. i find that a lot harder to unpack. if anyone wants to analyze that, i'd love to hear your thoughts! but also, both these things i talked about could have affected them in any number of ways. it comes down to likelihoods and probabilities. in the end you never know for sure how a person will react to a situation until after they've done it. and you don't know how not going through an experience might change them. and no headcanon any of us might have will tell the story as it would have happened with 100% certainty because human behavior is simply too complex and complicated to predict with any kind of accuracy.

if mulder hadn't been pushed through external circumstances to confront his feelings in that way, if he hadn't carried her cross, held her hand fearing it might be the last time, that would have taken a huge weight off both of them. there might have been a greater ease to their relationship. mulder wouldn't be feeling that guilt. scully wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of all of that. the abduction, in my opinion, brought them closer to each other, but also served as an obstacle on their way forward, because it's quite something to move on from, more so since it brought feelings to the surface that neither of them was ready for.

*i personally* think the abduction strengthened the bond between them but weakened the foundation of their relationship. because of that added guilt and the fact that they were not ready to confront certain feelings. i think his fear of losing her is something that came to define him. and he kept almost losing her. if that hadn't happened? things between them could have progressed at an easier pace. their friendship, and the love they feel for each other. but honestly, i have no idea. but i had a lot of fun thinking about this.

[nerdsandbabyteeth]

K & S

[merimerz]

the best is yet to come

[dizzybizz]

some doodles

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

woke: thinking drawing the mages weapons is hard

woke: thinking drawing the mages bodies and clothes is hard

woke: thinking drawing the mages hair is hard someone please for the love of god give me a tutorial this isnt a joke im suffering so hard someone help

[icewindandboringhorror]

thinking about orange juice

[sophiaphile]

BLM protest street art on boarded up windows, Chicago, June 2020