#but you make him so happy and calm

[llamagoddessofficial]

An HMF x OC commission from @radpunch that made me swoon ❤️ any chance to write this big lug, I'll take!!

---

It was love at first sight. 

Looking out his car window was, oddly, one of the few joys he still had. It was such a strange thing to look forward to. Papyrus wouldn’t allow him to drive anymore, given the state of him, and although it frustrated him to lose his agency having a driver meant he could sit in the backseat and stare out of the tinted window. 

... He was sick and tired of the way everything would stop when he entered a room. He was sick of the world that refused to forget the parts of him he wanted to forget, but at the same time, forgot the things he desperately wished to hold onto.

His eyelight rolled over the street, taking in it all. The colours, the sounds, the sights. He could almost forget what had happened to him. He got the sense of normalcy he had been missing, craving, for so long; nobody could gawk at him like they usually did, nobody even knew he was there. From the safety of that bulletproof box he could see how the normal world went on. People bustling up and down the streets, moving in and out of stores, chatting with friends or arguing with each other, laughing and yelling and living their lives.

How things used to be.

His eyelight landed on something that should’ve been another normal sight. An entirely unremarkable flower shop, sat between a cafe and small family market. It was the kind of area he and his brother would’ve collected protection from in the early days of their ‘business’. There were flowers arranged outside of the store, grey metal buckets full of bouquets set spaced across a low wooden table.

... There was a human woman tending to the flowers. Your apron was the same colour as the store’s green banner.

...

His Soul stilled inside his chest.

“... stop the car,” he said, before he even knew he was speaking.

You weren’t doing anything particularly incredible, nor noteworthy. You blended in with the rest of the people on that busy street - standing outside your shop. Watering the plants? Pruning them? He couldn’t tell from this distance.

Impressively, the driver had heard his mumbled command, shifting down a gear despite the look from the bodyguard in the passenger seat. 

“Where would you like to get out, sir?”

... It was strange. But Sans missed the days when his drivers would question him. It just wasn’t the same now that nobody ever even thought of challenging his word. Sir, this isn’t where we’re stopping. Sir, Papyrus said we must be there at eight, we cannot pull over. Sir, I’m under express orders not to let you go to the bar. 

Now, even the slightest sign of questioning would probably be considered stupid. 

“... florist.”

Sans didn’t miss the second strange look the bodyguard gave to the driver. He would’ve felt anger at that, usually, but instead he watched intently as you headed into the shop.

The driver pulled up to the side of the road, a few cars’ distance from the entrance to the store. Sans opened the car door. 

“How long will you be, sir?” the guard asked. 

Sans didn’t reply; he often didn’t, these days. He merely stepped out of the car. He knew the driver would wait.

The second he exited the vehicle, Sans saw the world around him realise he was there, and react with its usual amount of terror and disgust. His presence was always a blight. People in the street immediately began to stare, freezing in their path, refusing to cross in front of the giant that had just appeared. A mother with a child who had been walking their way suddenly spotted him, and jerked her child by the arm, turning the two of them around and rushing in the other direction.

Usually, he only had to pretend that he didn’t care. But this time, he genuinely didn’t. 

... He was excited.

Sans made his way over to the flower shop, ignoring all the tiny people that flitted away from him. His Soul was... beating. It was beating, thudding against his ribcage. 

He opened the door, ducking slightly under the frame. A tiny bell chimed.

... It was such a quaint little store. Clearly strapped for space, every corner was occupied with pretty things; while one wall was dedicated to shelves full of decorative pots and bottles of flower feed, the rest of the store was bursting with different kinds of blossoms, arranged in all kinds of creative ways. Every taste was catered to - elegant bouquets of dark paddle-leaves and pale lilies, stringy minimalist green stalks dotted with clusters of tiny blossoms, extravagant bunches of pink that more resembled floral fireworks than anything natural. A blackboard displayed bouquet prices, with sweet little illustrations of the various bridal styles available. *Please note that out-of-season flowers might be more expensive!

And at the far end, behind the counter... by far the prettiest thing in the whole room.

You.

Whatever had happened to him in the car, it happened again. His chest was tight, his head was swimming. His Soul felt heavy, and hot, he was certain it had manifested itself inside his ribcage - it felt as if it was twice its usual size. Everything was brighter, more saturated.

You did look at his head crack when he entered. Everyone did. You glanced up from the bouquet you were organising, a classic bunch of perfectly red roses; but your eyes quickly skirted away from the injury, aware that you were staring, and probably not wanting to be rude. It was more politeness than most bothered to afford him.

... Then you smiled at him.

He literally felt his Soul pulse. All his breath escaped him at the same time. You were smiling? At him? People didn’t smile at him anymore, not genuinely. Their smiles were sly and patronising when they assumed he was stupid, or desperate and weak when they were a cornered animal doing their best to appear nonchalant in the face of a predator. 

This smile... your smile...

“Hi sir,” you said, in a voice like a lullaby. “what can I get for you?”

What could you get for him? He hadn’t even started thinking about that. He had just seen you across the road, and followed you like a lost dog. His eyelight scanned the shelves; he couldn’t say he’d ever been into a florist before, nor that he knew how to order a bouquet.

“... what’s...” For the first time in a long time, he was really really trying to get his words right. He was willing to put in the effort. “... your name?”

“Dove. You?”

It took him a moment to remember his own name. 

“sans.” 

Everything about you was soft. You had little lines around your smile that he wanted to trace with his claws. “It’s nice to meet you. Is there anything you’re looking for?”

you. “... just flowers.”

To his surprise, you giggled. It was a small sound, but it shot through him like lightning.

“Of course. My bad.”

“... was lookin’ for... somethin’ pretty.” He stared across the room at you, emboldened by your laugh. “... think i already found it, though.”

You went pink, and looked down at the counter.

Sans was... 

... Well, he was shocked. 

When was the last time his attention had incited anything except absolute terror? Regardless of gender, even just a glance from would make people shudder and cower, retreating into themselves. But here you were, blushing at his first attempt at flirting in what must’ve been years. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

... He couldn’t remember a single instance, after his injury, where he genuinely wanted someone. He had a vague aesthetic interest in a member of a rival gang, once, but she’d been so frightened by him staring at her that he quickly gave that up. He hadn’t felt these kinds of feelings in a long time. 

... In fact... now that he was looking at you and your lovely nose and lips, he couldn’t remember a single instance before his injury when he felt this strongly about someone. His younger self had been a playboy who chased anything pretty and distracting. 

He’d never felt these warm, intense, fluttery sensations before.

It felt like love.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked him. “For the flowers, I mean.”

He approached the counter. “... a gift.”

“Are there any particular flowers or colours you have in mind?”

“... which... flowers do you like?”

Your blush hadn’t gone away. Was he just seeing things because he was desperate, or were you leaning on the counter like that to be flirtatious? “Oh... I know it’s stereotypical to say as a florist, but I can’t pick a favourite. I like so many of them.”

His eyelight lingered on your neck. He didn’t want to make assumptions and scare you off. But at the same time, he wanted so much. “how come?”

“Well... there’s a lot of folklore behind flowers. Pretty much all flowers have certain meanings.” You kept fiddling with the roses, changing the position of blooms. “The Victorians were really into it, they got super specific, even down to which hand you gave flowers with. Nobody really cares about that kind of thing nowadays, they just want the bouquets to look good. Which is fair enough. But every time I find out the hidden meaning of a flower, I think about how someone long ago must’ve loved that flower enough to give it so much meaning. And I get all emotional.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening in the light. He dug his thumb into the side of his index finger to stop himself from reaching out and caressing your face.

“... Y’know, it does make me laugh, sometimes, when people pick rude flowers without knowing their meaning.” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes. “They have no idea they’re sending a bouquet that would’ve meant ‘I don’t trust you, and I’m extremely disappointed with you’.”

He couldn’t help but smile when you smiled. That... was kinda funny. Papyrus would like this sort of thing.

“what kinda messages... can you send?”

“Almost anything.” You moved the roses to the side. “I can’t say I know many off the top of my head. Romantic love, platonic love, wisdom, bravery. There’s a lot for love. My favourites are the mean ones, though, because it’s so funny to me - orange lilies used to mean hatred. Could you imagine getting orange lilies delivered to your door?”

... He chuckled. He could listen to you talk forever. 

“... could i...” he hummed. “... get somethin’... with a meaning?”

Your whole face lit up. You beautiful thing.

“Of course! I don’t think I’ve ever actually gotten to make a bouquet that uses flower language." You were beaming. "What message were you thinking of?”

He looked right into your lovely, shiny eyes. “love at first sight.”

... He could see exactly how your mind worked, in that moment. There was an instant of surprise, then a glimmer of flattery and embarrassment, it came with another flash of warmth across your face that only deepened the colour in your cheeks. He could tell you were immediately trying to pull yourself back, convincing yourself he couldn’t mean you, reigning in the sudden feelings.

“Whoever it’s for must be very lucky.” You tucked some hair behind your ear. If only you knew. “Hold on, just let me grab my flower language book.”

You rushed over to a shelf. As you did, he looked down to double check that his Soul wasn’t shining through his clothes.

“Here.” You came back quickly, holding the book in question, already leafing through it. It was a faded beige, with beautifully illustrated blossoms on the front, encased in an embossed golden border. “This should help.”

He wanted to purr. You were so cute. Moving around with so much excitement, he liked when you were excited.

“There’s a few, I think. You’re in luck, we have these in stock.” He wasn’t paying attention to the book, he was just looking at you. “Thornless roses - gloxinia too. This one says that lilac roses are good to represent first love. We could make some really nice arrangements with these shapes and colours.”

just keep talking, was all he could think. talk to me forever...

Eventually, you looked up at him, still smiling. He had to physically fight the urge to just pick you up and walk out the door. “What size were you thinking?”

“... whatever... you think... looks best.” He wanted you to have fun with it. “... money’s... no object.”

“I think something medium would be good for these flowers. Anything bigger and it'll just look silly. Any particular styles?”

“... somethin’ romantic.”

You gently giggled. He guessed that that wasn’t a proper bouquet style. Usually, when people laughed at him, he felt the urge to cave in their skull... but when you laughed at him, he laughed too, a soft chuckle escaping his massive chest. His mind was racing to figure out why you laughed, so he could make you do it again. 

“i like your laugh,” he said, before he could stop himself.

“... I like yours, too.” Your voice was sweet. Almost... coy?

He was daring to hope that, despite his gruesome injury, you liked him too. 

... The store bell let out a little chime.

Sans turned around. And, much to his immediate aggravation, he saw his guard standing at the entrance.

“Hello.” Your voice was very different to the one you were just using with him. Far more customer service, far more ‘normal’. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The guard ignored you, looking to Sans. “Sir, you...”

Sans’ glare must’ve said shut the fuck up fluently enough to make the man close his mouth again. 

don’t you dare. don’t you fucking dare ruin this for me.

“... Do you two need to speak in private?” You had probably lived in this city long enough to know when it was time to make yourself scarce. “It’s fine, I can go make the bouquet while you talk.”

... He nodded. 

“... sorry. s’cuse me.”

You disappeared away, into the back of the store.

...

He turned to the guard. He could feel his eyelight starting to burn, sharpening and filling with aggressive magic. 

“what.”

The guard visibly shrank into himself. Sans didn’t even want guards, he didn’t fucking need them, he could more than handle himself. But Papyrus was still shaken from the incident to this day, and wouldn’t let him anywhere without at least one armed guard.

“S-sir, we’re... we’ll be late,” he said. 

Sans didn’t care. The clowns he was meeting with would wait for him like nervous children, no matter how long he took to arrive. As the moments ticked by, the guard just withered more and more under Sans’ stare. 

...

He eventually sighed, through his nasal cavity. Being around you had softened his mood significantly. He didn't even feel like breaking anything.

“i’ll tell... pap... you tried to rush me.”

... A wave of relief passed over the guard’s face. Though Sans was the one most feared, Papyrus’ wrath was still nothing to sneeze at. 

“Here!” Your voice snapped him back to attention. He turned around, just in time to see you set an arrangement down on the counter. “What do you think? I’m happy to make adjustments.”

... It was lovely. Really lovely. He leaned in to get a closer look. He knew what lilacs and roses looked like, but he couldn’t say he’d ever seen a gloxinia before; they resembled open roses, lipstick red petals with ruffled white edges. Gloxinia and bunches of lilacs were interspersed by small lavender-hued closed rosebuds... minuscule baby’s breath flowers had been added too, on their thin stalks, floating over it all like stars.

“... s’perfect,” he murmured. You immediately smiled wider. Who would’ve known he’d grow a fondness for flowers?

He took out his wallet, rummaging until he had enough bills. It didn’t take long. He pushed them across the counter to you, and you graciously picked them up. 

“Do you mind me asking who the lucky someone is?” you asked, starting to count what he’d given.

... Sans pushed the flowers across the counter a little, over to you.

“gotta go.” he murmured. “... late.”

...

You looked up at him, blankly. It was such a cute expression on your pretty face. Again, he was restraining the urge to purr, it would just be too inappropriate to do in public. Especially with someone else right behind him. Maybe if the two of you were alone...

“Huh?”

He turned, nodding to the guard, who made his way over to the door and opened it for him. As much as he wished he could just skip the meeting and stay there in that shop with you forever, he did have business to attend to. 

You sounded flustered, behind him. “W-wait. You gave me too much,”

Sans waved over his shoulder at you. 

The walk back to the car was a blur. His soul was still thundering. He genuinely wasn’t looking at the people around him, he didn’t care what they thought. All he cared about was what you thought.

All he was thinking about was the different ways he could make you his.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

drawing your favorite guys being silly is very effective at keeping The Horrors at bay

bonus doc from a different canvas:

[fumifooms]

What if we were both magic prodigies and it otherized us in different ways and we devoted ourselves to protecting a family member who has general other goals & priorities. What if we both did self-sacrifical devotion in opposite ways.

What if we were dark mirrors of each other and where I've grown overcontrolling you've grown complacent. What if, bought as a servant into a pretty loving home, ownership and control is what love looks like to me, and to you neglected and lonely growing up, love is gratefully taking any scraps of it you’re lent.

By belonging to someone, even if she comes back injured or fails at finding Delgal, she feels like she belongs and is cherished, by owning someone he feels safe in them not leaving him.

She’s what’s tethering him do you see… And he’s the only thing giving her direction and purpose in her state. She needs a compass and he needs a support.

They’re both so out of it 😭 It’s the weirdly intense and unearned mutual trust and reliance on each other?? They’re each other’s weird little comfort codependent teddy bear. Or at least they were headed towards that before SHE DIED THEN HE DIED THEN THEY BOTH FORGOT ABOUT EACH OTHER AND NEVER MET EVER AGAIN. Though she’s also the guard attack hound keeping him safe… And vice versa he heals her and can rewrite her very being with just one wave of his hand. They’re both so so mentally and physically vulnerable both but they cling onto each other. They can’t perceive things accurately but despite it all someway somehow they stumble into something closer to resembling companionship just before they both die. Falin is just that kind and Thistle is just that lonely. Overworked.

We both haven’t lived for ourselves in a very long time, haven’t we.

They both have a similar devotion to the people they love but again the difference is that Thistle starts overtsepping while Falin is self-effacing. The other difference between them is that people care about Falin <3 People have given up on Thistle long ago, and he has given people reasons to, while people refuse to give up on Falin. Yaad has a mini arc about it dw about it it’s ok he’s not all alone in the end 😭😭 He reached out for Marcille’s hand but they already all wanted to help him, they just had to be given the chance to, Yaad just had to be given the chance to, it’s okay I’m okay

Hey what if we learned to get in touch with our own identity and the world around us and living in the present again through being in the worst codependent situationship ever.

Falin and Thistle sitting in a tree, sucking on flowers together because they’re h-u-n-g-r-y 💕💕💕

I bet he’s only ever thought of flowers as useless ornaments. Weak weeds. But she shows him they’re tasty and useful and good and pretty in their own right too and deserve existing without proving their worth and waaa <33 Thistles…... Did you know thistles taste sweet if you remove the thorns and eat them?

"Even as a chimera, her kind nature remains" you can’t suppress her in the way that matters. You can’t soothe him in the way that matters. It’s doomed. You’re doomed. It’s all doomed. Save me.

[kinokoshoujoart]

oops all rock (springtime edition)

i’ll be able to draw digitally again soon! ;w; in the meantime i’ve been scribbling a lot on paper…

could not wait for Soon, so i resorted to coloring it using the markup tool in default iphone photos app (don’t do that ever again)

[kiwiplaetzchen]

hi!!! ok call me silly but I found this interaction so funny and the image stuck in my head… so here’s nosy asserting dominance hope you enjoy <333

The room was quiet, save for the scratching sound of Sebastian's quill as he worked through a stack of letters. Meanwhile, his little Niffler sat proudly on his fluffy bum atop the desk as he munched away on a biscuit. Crumbs tumbled down onto the desk, scattering across the wizard's letters, but the little Niffler paid them no mind. It was just another day of being the Teal King - until Sebastian paused, opening one particular envelope, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"This seems to be for you," he said with a proud smirk, turning to Nosy while holding out the piece of parchment. "You teal-furred menace."

Nosy froze mid-bite, his little beak still latched onto the biscuit as a dribble of drool escaped down the side. His eyes darted to the letter fluttering temptingly before his snout. A letter? For him? Nosy's eyes widened, but only for a second. Quickly, he shook his head, as if snapping out of a daze, as if remembering himself. Well, of course it was a letter for him! Obviously! Who else could it be for?

Tossing the remainder of the biscuit over his shoulder, he sent more crumbs raining down onto Sebastian's papers. Without hesitation, he snatched the letter out of the hand of his companion and examined it closely, turning it over in his little paws. The annoying envelope had to go, and Nosy wasted no time tearing it open with his sharp, tiny claws.

The Niffler's eyes grew as round as galleons. It was him! Magnificent, superior him! There he was, in all his glory, standing victorious over the fallen pumpkin menace! Nosy let out an excited squeak, his tail wagging furiously. The detail was impeccable - his glorious teal fur, his intimidating pea shooter, even the defeated look on that stupid gourd's face! It was perfect - flawless, even!

Nosy looked back and forth between the drawing and Sebastian, practically vibrating with excitement. He waddled closer, pointing furiously between himself and the paper, and squeaking insistently as if to say, Look! Look! This is ME! He held the paper high above his head, admiring the heroic portrayal, before pulling it into a tight hug.

Without another second of delay, Nosy stuffed the precious masterpiece into his belly pouch with utmost care and took a small leap onto Sebastian's lap, sliding down his trouser leg with ease, and waddled straight to his little nest in the wardrobe.

One thick lick to the back of the drawing later, Nosy stuck it proudly on the back panel of the wardrobe. Perfect. Now, every time he curled up in his nest, he could be reminded of his greatness!

[willowser]

aww you know, i actually really do like the idea of double boy dad bakugou 🥺

your first son being a little angel and you and katsuki are both perfectly satisfied, and then maybe another bug comes as a surprise a few years later and he turns out to be a heinous little menace — and katsuki didn't think he'd love having a brat of a child so much 🥺

[red-moon-at-night]

"and when thou sawest him thy fancy straight became thy Cypris; for every sensual act that men commit, they lay upon this goddess, and rightly does her name of Aphrodite begin the word for "senselessness"; so when thou didst catch sight of him in gorgeous foreign garb, ablaze with gold, thy senses utterly forsook thee."

— Euripides, The Trojan Women (translation by E. P. Coleridge)

[wutheringmights]

also i really shouldn't have written stp because now i have a million ideas for spirit's adventures in new hyrule that I will never have time to actually write :((

[quietwingsinthesky]

we’ve all said it before but ill say it again, sam should have gotten lucifer pregnant and that should have been the jack origin. if she was jessifer at the time, even better <3

[aromanticasterisms]

this whole epilogue is just a little treat for me oh my god. "familiar faces arrive in simulanka" does not even begin to cover it

[theramblingsofadork]

─── ⋆⋅ 【❖】 ⋅⋆ ───

🚨 Art TW:// Slight Blood, Implications of Violence

— A/N: Ever since Arcane S2 came out, I’ve been having WAY too much fun fleshing out my villain OC Zeroth. Being an integral part to Rivet and Charge’s story, he’s always held an air of mystery to me, and to an extent still does.

This short story takes place long before Rivet and Charge ever meet Sonic and Co, or the Starpoint Squad. On another world, where a greedy king seeks to gain more than he has, and in doing so, dooms his leadership and his people by unleashing an age old being upon it, whose very existence is being the catalyst for destruction.

📓 Short Fanfic: Zeroth’s Awakening

🎵 Accompanying Music: Arcane S2- Appointing of a General

There was a cold and tense silence as the king stared down at the muzzled, so-called ‘dangerous beast’ from the legends that lay bound before him; the one whose power to grant desires had once filled the kingdom with fear and hushed whispers, eons ago.

But now, standing here at the heart of his eternal prison, with his armed guards on all sides, the greedy king couldn’t bring himself to comprehend how such a creature could have ever been deemed as ‘dangerous’.

The wolf… jellyfish… shadow… thing, was scrawny, and didn’t exude an ounce of the violent and rebellious nature the king had expected to see. He hardly even came up his chest in height.

Even so, his ancestors hadn’t sealed him and his voice away in a temple deep within the earth without reason. And as such, a sense of trepidation still hung in the air like a damp and heavy fog.

But fear and ancient rumors would not dissuade him. The king was a covetous one, and as such, wanted the power of such a creature at his disposal. If he did anything to try and step out of line, the ruler would respond in turn with swift and utter vengeance.

Narrowing his eyes, the king squared his chin and held it high, declaring loudly to the creature, “Zeroth, Granter of Wishes. My forefathers sealed you away here because they feared your power. But I do not. If you so swear upon your life to follow me and bestow upon me my every desire, then I will remove your chains and free you from that mask which binds your power. I will protect you as if you were one of my own, from all who would wish to harm you.”

The white irises of Zeroth’s unusually dark eyes did not stray from the king as his lava lamp esque hair rippled in an invisible breeze, the only indication that he was even still alive. The ruler felt certain he would need to persuade him further, but there was no hesitation in the creature’s actions as he slowly but firmly lowered his head in an obedient and subservient nod.

The king considered his response for a moment, then motioned his head for the guards to free him.

There was a jingle of keys as the soldier closest to him hurried over, and Zeroth’s eyes followed his form closely as he came around behind him.

The silver key was inserted into the lock of his chains, then his muzzle, and they released with a sharp hiss of steam as the mechanical, iron clad, vacuum seals were unlocked. His chains fell away, and each section of the mask clunked and clicked as the heavy clockwork type mechanism came undone, until the entire mouthpiece finally dropped to the ground with a loud, clattering thunk.

As the king would later say—the impact of such a thing was like a rock being dropped into a still pool of water.

Now free from his entrappings, Zeroth slowly stood and flexed his stiff body and jaw, running an eerily, ghostlike colored tongue over his chops and revealing a matching set of glowing teeth.

“𝓐𝓱, 𝓽𝓱𝓪t’s much better,” he finally uttered aloud for the first time in over a millennia, his voice as buttery smooth as whisky as it almost seemed to echo and swirl around him like smoke.

Turning himself to face to the king and his entourage—all of whom collectively stiffened up as he did so—he then held a fist over his chest and slowly bowed low at the waist. “Now then…” he said in a tone seemingly far too benign for a beast. “Seeing as you have freed me from my imprisonment, I am in your debt.”

His glowing eyes peered up at the man, and unheard to all but him, the cries of a future city in ruin began to bleed in and echo in his ears like sweet, serenading music.

“So then, tell me… 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾… 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽?”

─── ⋆⋅ 【❖】 ⋅⋆ ───

[makerofmadness]

Update on Town Square:

I got in and it is fun :3 you can just like. Choose a cookie to mess around as. I decided to be Alchemist.

Except apparently there's ALCHEMIST CONTENT IN THIS UPDATE??????? and I don't know how to get to it 😭😭 I saw someone else ask that in the middle of running around the square and I just. Started circling them dndjdjdjdnmd

Btw just wanted to highlight these parts of the title screen since I didn't really show my appreciation for them earlier.

(also also I love Granola Cookie already just-)

[mechahero]

//I feel like I could make Lambda get weird about being killed. He gets excited over it sometimes because he knows he's going to get a boost out of it. Like yes, PLEASE MAKE HIM STRONGER. HE WOULD BE FINE WITH THAT.

[hyp-fixator]

Old design

Vs new design!

Not a lot of difference in concept but I do feel like the new design has more of that personality now that I let the lore sit for awhile!

[leenaur143]

Happy birthday Haengbok 🌞 To our eternal sunshine, our favourite human, our social butterfly with his eclectic array of hobbies, we hope you have the best day ever Lix because you mean so so much to us and you deserve good things 🫶 From you, I have learnt how to be patient and a good listener and I aspire to be more social and outgoing when talking to new people because of how easy yet emotionally rewarding you make it look. Felix is someone you can look at or hear for literally only a few seconds and you will find yourself smiling fondly or laughing along at his jokes because he is our happy pill 🤗 I pray your year ahead is full of happiness and fulfilment, love you so so so much Yongbok 🥰

[carbonateddelusion]

sits here. my mood has been swinging back and forth like a pendulum lately