#it kind of isn't

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[refugeed-kim]

YES YES I NEED THIS SIGN IN EVERY SINGLE PARK PLEASE

This is my daily struggle, I had so many arguments with people with off-leash dogs (in a mandatory leash area!!!). Thanks to this behavior I'm struggling with Kim being anxious/aggressive with other females as she often gets involved in unpleased interactions with free females while on leash. And every single time that I ask for the dog to be at least recalled, I'm being called names and insulted of course.

Also 9 out of 10 their dog isn't really that friendly at all.

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[bixels]

End-of-Splatoon thoughts.

Thinking about how since the very start, Splatoon has had a feature where players can draw and post artwork and spot them as graffiti on walls or billboards. Or how the weapons have always been paint brushes and rollers and ballpoint pens. Since its inception, Splatoon has been dedicated to engaging its players with the act of creation and creative expression, showing them how their art can build communities and (literally) change the world.

Thinking about finding golden human-made music discs buried underground for thousands of years, and a grand finale music festival. About the Voyager Golden Records. About those human handprints etched into concrete in Alterna. Did those human artists know it would end like this? First a fiery death and then, eventually, a worldwide celebration of music to represent our shared past, present, and future. Did they know that their songs, insignificant in the face of extinction, would one day become the solution that will save the next dominant life-form from the same fate?

Thinking about how eerily similar the Octarian domes are to Alterna. About how close Inklings and Octolings were to repeating the same mistakes as humans. But their doomed fates were undone not by some miracle technology or military power or a rocket, but by music.

Thinking about how humans wiped themselves out with war, and our parting gifts were liquid crystals that somehow paired with the DNA of primeval inklings and somehow infused them with our memories and culture and a Song. And 12,000 years in the future, that same Song will end a war.

Thinking about how art and music and punk culture and rock & roll and friendly competition and petty arguments and water guns aren’t uniquely human concepts, but the fundamental qualities of intelligent life. An inheritable spirit that can cross evolutionary bounds.

Thinking about the theme of Splatoon, that art and music and fun will not die with the human race. That every piece of art we create is a seed we sow for future generations to reap. That our legacy is ingrained into the crust of the earth. That long after we’re gone, the oceans will remember, and they’ll pick up where we left off.

Thinking about how Splatoon says that the essence of humanity –– the thing that will outlive us –– isn't war or prejudice or destruction or greed, it's a song.

[tempo-takoyaki]

"Are you satisfied yet?"

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[teaboot]

You need to make art that nobody else likes. You need to make art that speaks to you alone. You need to cradle a serpent that eats its own tail and you need to love it until it loves you back

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Pirate Captain - Dubcon

Soft Dubcon A naive aristocrat's daughter, you're crossing the Atlantic in a heavily guarded ship. Pirates assume guns and guards mean treasure but when all they find is you, they decide to make the best of their luck.

A pirate ship is a floating kingdom, with laws far different than those on land. To rise through the ranks, a pirate needs to be ruthless.

And Yandere! Pirate Captain earned his place at the top.

Yandere! Captain who's deadly as a shark and twice as cunning. Who wears a stolen Navy coat and twists gold through his dreadlocks. Who keeps a cutlass on his hip for honest fights and a knife in his boot for dirty ones.

When he sees your ship, he accurately assume rich passengers and plenty of gold. But what he wasn't expecting was you.

Yandere! Captain who catches your hair when you try and run past him. Who tosses you against the wall on instinct, his hand a vice around your throat.

And you whimper.

Yandere! Captain who feels something inside him flipping end over end when he hears it.

He's heard the roar of the sea and the thunder of canons. He's heard the whisper of daggers cutting through silk and the soft sigh of bodies falling limp. He's heard whores who moan like cats in heat.

But he's never heard a sound like that.

Yandere! Captain who can tell from the cut of your clothes and the shine of your jewelry that you're the daughter of a noble. But you sure as hell don't act like a high and mighty lady. Instead, you look up at him through eyes brimming with tears.

And you beg him not to kill you, promise that your father will pay whatever he wants.

Yandere! Captain who loosens his grip on you, his voice almost gentle when he promises not to hurt you if you come along quietly.

And you do. Walking along in front of him with your eyes down, trying not to cry.

You've heard awful stories about pirates - they kill for pleasure, they plunder for greed. And the very presence of the Captain terrifies you.

Yandere! Captain who takes you to his ship and treats you like a gentleman, who offers you his hand when you step off the gangplank and stumble.

Yandere! Captain who orders his men to bring you supper. The sun is long set by that point and as the night comes, his eyes roam lower and lower. There's a hunger in him that all the food in the world can't satisfy.

Yandere! Captain who offers you wine with supper, who watches you drink without ever touching his own glass. You sway when you try to stand and he's quick to catch you, quick to tease you about having no head for drink.

Quick to touch you but slow to let go.

Yandere! Captain who coos at the limp way you hang onto him. You feel worse than dizzy. You feel hot and woozy and confused. You don't notice when his hands drop from your waist to your hips.

Yandere! Captain who guides you to his bed, his smile a bit too sharp to be comforting.

You feel there's something amiss. Something you don't quite understand. But then he kisses your neck and all remnants of sense dissolve on his tongue.

Yandere! Captain who loves the way you gasp at every little touch. Who nips your earlobe and asks,

"Have ye ever had a man, little birdie?"

Yandere! Captain who smiles even deeper when you shake your head. Who runs his hands up your thighs and lifts your skirt inch by slow, tantalising inch.

"Would ye like me te be ye first?"

You remember the flash of his cutlass when he boarded your ship. You remember the easy way he pinned you to the wall by your throat. You remember the stories of pirates and their endless hunger for flesh. Somewhere in your drugged mind, you realise there's only one answer he wants to hear.

"Yes Captain."

Yandere! Captain who plays with your garters while he kisses up your neck. Who tugs them loose so sickeningly slow.

Yandere! Captain who presses his nose against your hair and breathes you in.

"Do ye have any idea what it's like to be a man at sea, lass? Te go months without a woman's touch?"

Yandere! Captain who takes your hand and presses it against his crotch. You can feel the hard outline of his cock even through the material.

"Te feel only ye own salt scarred hands on ye cock?"

It's so unfamiliar, so frightening, that you can't help but try and pull away. He hisses and drags you back, forces you to feel him all the way from balls to tip.

He groans, his face still buried in your hair. His other hand traces its way down your back, catching on the strings of your corset and loosening them a little at a time.

Yandere! Captain who slowly pulls himself away from your hair and brushes his lips against your jawline. Who holds your jaw in his calloused paw and forces you to look into his eyes before he kisses you.

Yandere! Captain who has salt on his skin and on his lips when he kisses you. Who nips at your bottom lip and tugs on it when he pulls away.

You're so glassy eyed, so entranced by him that he can't help but indulge.

Yandere! Captain who shrugs off his coat and brings your hands to the collar of his shirt. Who commands you to undress him.

Your fingers shake just a little when you pull at the ties holding it closed. You move down and tug at the hem. Your fingernails scrape the skin above his belt and he pulls in a sharp breath.

When his shirt is off, he takes your hand and draws it down his chest. From his heart to the buckle of his belt. Every inch of him is hard earned muscle - built by the spill of sea and salt and blood.

Yandere! Captain who watches you through half lidded eyes, his jaw clenched tight.

"Come now lass, ye remember how a belt works, don't ya?"

You paw at him and the sound of the buckle coming undone makes your breath hitch.

Yandere! Captain who comes to stand infront of you, his crotch just below eye level. He rests a hand on you head, fingers playfully knotting in your hair. But when you take too long, he gives your hair a sharp tug.

You pull his pants past his hips and his cock springs out. It's almost as thick as your forearm and you stare at it, dazed and confused and terrified.

Yandere! Captain who sighs and grabs it with one hand. He nudges it against your lips and its only his grip on your hair that keeps you from pulling away.

"Trust me lass, it'll hurt less this way."

You look up at him. Even through the haze of alcohol, you can recognise that his patience is wearing thin. You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. You open your lips just enough to fit the tip.

Yandere! Captain who tastes like the salt of the sea and the salt of a man all at once. You lick his slit, shuddering at the taste.

Yandere! Captain who throws his head back and moans. Who pushes deeper inside you without warning and you close your mouth on instinct. Your teeth scrape his cock just a little but it makes him jerk out of you, hissing.

Yandere! Captain who pulls you back by your hair and slaps you hard across the face.

"No. Teeth. Got it?"

You nod, stunned and hurt. A naive part of you thought being intimate would keep him gentle. And it scares you to your core knowing the man about to fuck you is still just as capable of violence as he was before.

When he taps the tip against your lips again, you open wide and let him sink all the way down your throat. It takes everything in you not to gag or bite down on instinct.

Yandere! Captain who keeps going until his cock is a soaking, drool covered mess. Who growls at you in his brogue - what a good lass you are, tongue so warm and soft, takin' it like a bitch in heat.

Yandere! Captain who fucks your face until he's at the very edge, heat coiling in his balls. It takes everything in him to pull out, to not waste himself just in your mouth.

Yandere! Captain who pushes you down onto your back and slings your leg over his shoulder. Whose skin gleams in the lantern light, rich and dark as oil.

Yandere! Captain who leans down and kisses you. You pull away with a jerk and he follows you down, until you're trapped between the mattress and his lips. His tongue swipes at your teeth and the taste of him makes you light headed all over again. He tastes of rum and salt, he tastes of the Barbados coast in storm, he tastes like your ruin.

"Pretty lass, ye would tempt even a saint."

Yandere! Captain who sinks his cock into you oh so slowly. Who bottoms out and stays there, letting you adjust. Feeling you tremble around him and underneath him both. It's a rare thing to taste a virgin and he wants to savour every. little. bit.

"Poor sinner tha' I am, how could I resist ye?"

He grinds into you and you arch your back. Dig your nails into his skin and whimper that it hurts, that it burns.

Burns like sin, burns like lust and lechery.

Yandere! Captain who coos at you until you quiet. Who kisses away your tears oh so softly, oh so sweetly. Like he isn't the one causing them.

Yandere! Captain who has to grit his teeth to keep from ramming back into you. Who has to remind himself to savour this - you'll remember it for the rest of your life.

And when he does move, he goes gently. He fucks you like a lover (and doesn't that make it all the crueler? You don't love him. He has no right to touch you like he does).

Yandere! Captain who bottoms out again and again, pressing his lips against a different part of you every time.

Yandere! Captain who moves down your neck and across your collarbones, sucking and leaving lovebites behind. Marking his territory, staking his claim. When the sailors see you in the morning, they'll know exactly who you belong to.

Yandere! Captain who takes your nipple into your mouth and sucks at it, licks it with the hot edge of his tongue. And when you whine and say that feels so good, he bites down and tugs at it with his teeth.

Yandere! Captain who holds onto your waist with one hand and braces himself with the other, his palm digging into the sheets just above your head. Who tells you to take a deep breath and when you do, he shoves into you harder and faster than before.

Yandere! Captain who picks up the pace and gets sloppy with it, hands slipping over your skin like he can't catch a grip. Who feels his restraint teetering, who pants and growls like a mutt.

By the God of seven seas, you're tight. It doesn't take long for you come - you're a drugged up mess and he knows how to please a woman.

Yandere! Captain who fucks you through your orgasm, who keeps going even when you clench down on him. Who keeps fucking you even though you try and squirm away and complain that it's too much. It hurts too good.

When he comes, he does it deep inside you. It's reckless and some rational part of his mind reminds him to get you some contraceptive tea after this, but the rest of him is sunk in pleasure. In the animal need to fuck and claim and breed.

Yandere! Captain who pulls out of you oh so slowly. You're the first woman he's had in so damn long, and he's loathe to let you go. (He'll never let you go, he just doesn't know it yet).

Yandere! Captain who pushes two fingers into your cunt, feeling the way you close up and shudder around him. You've taken all you can handle and then some, poor little virgin.

Yandere! Captain who has blood on his cock and on his fingers. Blood staining his soul too, though you can't see it.

Yandere! Captain who looks you in the eye when he sucks the blood off his fingers and swallows it down.

"Now I've had all of ye, lass. The salt of ye tears, the copper of ye blood. Yer inside o' me, for always."

You're too woozy to understand why, but the way he says it frightens you. Makes your tears collect at your waterline and overflow down your temples. You have to try and muster your tongue before you finally manage to ask him if he's demanded a ransom yet.

Yandere! Captain who throws his head back and laughs.

"Oh, there's a price for ye life, little bird. But ye won't be paying it in cash."

You watch numbly as he puts his clothes and weapons back on. A captain's duties are never done - not even in the middle of the night.

Yandere! Captain who leans forward and kisses you one final time before pulling the blankets around you and blowing out the lantern. The door locks with a thud you feel echoing down your bones.

You touch your lips. You can taste your own cum and blood from his kiss.

Yandere! Captain who leaves you half naked on his bed with only the moon to comfort you. Cold and virginal and untouchable.

What a pity you couldn't stay so far out of reach.

[justsomestuffreally]

I think the Batkids reaction to a Bruce who isn't de-aged to 8 but rather 29 (pre-Jason death, post his adoption) would be fascinating. 

Their reaction would vary wildly:

Dick: Oh. Bruce is soft again. Bruce calls them ‘chum’ and ‘buddy’ and gives head pats for no reason. He still isn’t perfect, his communication skills are still a work in progress, but compared to his future self? Without actively dying Dick is hugged plenty. Bruce asks him to go to the zoo, unrelated to any case, just to spend time together. Dick is hit with more nostalgia and longing for the past than he knows what to do with.

Also notable: his dad is younger than him. That is something. Second, holy existential crisis Batman, his dad is younger than him and already one adult and one teenage kid??? Dick is not ready to feel this old yet. Third, Dick has absolutely no idea how Bruce managed to stay patient through his no-pants years. He is going to thank reason every day from now on that Damian wears full protection.

Jason: After his death and League he clung to an image of Bruce. One many tried to beat out of him, but he still kept it somewhere close to his heart, buried deep enough even he couldn’t see it. When he came back Bruce wasn’t like this idea of him. How stupid of him to believe the mind of a traumatized kid. Trying to create one good thing before the kid drew his last breath. Making up memories that never even existed.

But they did. Every smile and hug and even his words reflect the image tugged safely against his still-beating heart. His dad very clearly, very deeply loves him. Which is so much worse. Because he can understand why a Bruce, who never cared, didn’t kill the Joker. But he cares. So why the fuck did he not kill the Joker?

Tim: The reason he joined the family, the reason why he became Robin in the first place was because he saw a problem when Bruce started self-destructing and thought ‘Someone needs to fix that!’. Therefore he went and collected Dick, who didn’t seem keen on fixing it. So, the job fell to him to fix it.

He thought he did a good job, he thought he fixed the problem. Except now he sees who Bruce was, and he knows he failed. Their Bruce is less soft, less affectionate, less like he was before. Batman needs a Robin and Tim didn’t manage to be good enough of one to save him. 

[Or: Tim has a guilt complex a hundred miles wide and blames himself for things that aren’t his fault part 52]

Steph: Jason and she are very similar. Both come from the Narrows, both have a mother addicted to drugs and a shitty father. The differences start when Steph keeps waiting on the roof of their apartment for Batman to whisk her away, while Jason tries to steal the tires of the Batmobile and is taken in.

When Steph started out as Spoiler Bruce tried to keep her off the field, and obviously this one would too (even if he would probably be less paranoid about it), but she knows this Bruce would have also taken her in. This Bruce would be the father she always wished for when she sat on their roof and couldn’t see any stars. 

And she didn’t get to have this because Jason went ahead and died. (Of course, she knows she isn’t fair to the guy. Dying isn’t fun… And she knows the only reason she lived is because he died. When Batman rescued her from Black Mask she was in such terrible shape that Leslie managed to convince the World’s Greatest Detective that she died. If Jason hadn’t died Bruce wouldn’t have been as paranoid, wouldn’t have noticed her missing so soon, wouldn’t have been as urgent in his response. Would have been just a minute slower, a minute which would have killed her. Just as it had Jason.)

For her, this Bruce is a distorted mirror into a past which never was. 

Cass: This Bruce and B are not the same person. They don’t move the same. In a fight, this Bruce is younger, faster, stronger. Doesn’t compensate for a previously broken spine. Less experienced. Still one of the most experienced she knows, but less. 

He still moves differently, outside a fight, less pain. More likely to engage in physical affection, more likely to hug and pat and talk. He talks more than B. B knows what she means without words. This Bruce doesn’t.

She likes this Bruce, warmth, and softness. But not as much as B. He knows what she means, when she wants a hug, when she tells him ‘I love you’ without words. B doesn’t need words. This Bruce doesn’t know her, doesn’t communicate like her. She wants B back.

Damian: At first, when this version of his father seemed uncanny and oddly familiar, he assumed it to be due to the stories of his mother. After all, she always told him tales about his father. He simply did not have the frame of reference to understand the kindness she spoke of. Clearly, the clash between the ideals of the League and the ones of his father causes these feelings, just as they did when he first entered the manor.

He presumed this to be the case until one day on patrol Batman laid a hand on his shoulder and told him he did a good job after no particularly impressive fight and he nearly called him ‘Grayson’. Because the stories of his mother may have painted the picture of this version of his father, however, it wasn’t what made it familiar; no, he knew this kindness. These hugs and compliments one would bestow upon a child. Compliments which, despite the indignity, still warm him. Because Grayson learned how to be a… caregiver from his father.

His father used to be like Grayson, used to be until his grief hardened him. Damian could have had this. Damian could have a brother and father who would- But he doesn’t because of Todd. He loathes Todd. Loathes him for ruining the life he could have had.

Why did he die anyway? Damian certainly wouldn’t have a problem escaping bonds created by the Joker, Damian would have disarmed the bomb in time, Damian would have never thrown this life away like he did.

[Or: Damian is a child who was raised by assassins and has unreasonable standards for fighting abilities and also is a child who needs to focus his rage on someone.]

Duke: He was neither there before Jason died nor in the aftermath [according to my math he was around 4 when Jason died] he joined the family when Jason was already back for 4 years or so. He mostly skipped all the drama. For him, Bruce is the way Bruce is because he is Bruce. It’s weird to see him so different, to see how grief shaped parts of Bruce which Duke assumed were just Bruce things.

He’s glad this Bruce is brighter, or not because it just highlights how much that light will dim? Who knows, certainly not him. 

What he does know is that, with their Bruce, he has a distance which, with his parents still alive, he appreciates. With this Bruce, he can understand why Dick struggled so much whether he wants to be his ward or son, how he doesn’t want to replace his parents but still have this Bruce as a dad. It definitely explained the ted talk Dick tried to give him after Bruce officially took him in as a ward.

He likes this Bruce well enough, but he doesn’t necessarily want him to stay this way. Yes, their Bruce is less happy, less open but he did heal, he did grow. Duke met a Bruce who tried to learn from his mistakes, learned to communicate better, and learned when to pull and when to push. For Tim, Damian, Dick, and certainly Jason there is too much baggage, too much history in their relationships, it’s difficult for them to ever move past- anything really.

Sure, when Dick and Bruce are on the same page they are essentially invincible but then the past catches up again and they don’t talk to each other for months. And honestly? Apart from Cass, Duke’s pretty sure he has one of the best relationships with Bruce simply because he got to know him at a better time.

Duke doesn’t mind this Bruce. But their Bruce loved Jason, cared for him so deeply the scars still show to this day. And he still chooses to open up again even if just a bit by bit. Even if just Duke can see it. He is used to being the only one that can see.

And maybe knowing this care extends to him, this love even grief can’t shake? Maybe it makes him feel just a little bit safer, a little bit warmer, a little bit brighter.

[buggachat]

honestly what I love about miraculous and what I think a lot of people seem to hate about it is that the show is completely character-driven. it absolutely follows the rule of "would" rather than "should". episodes and plot lines and everything make so much sense and are so easy and engaging to follow when you understand that everything happening is because that's what the characters would do. things like: marinette would lie to protect someone's feelings, chloe would need more than just being queen bee to change her, adrien would forgive someone and try to see the best in someone who has shown him nothing but red flags. these aren't things they should do, it's just what they would. they don't change their behavior to tie up every loose end, they aren't vessels to give the audience moral lessons, their interpersonal conflicts are sometimes never addressed head-on and instead remain as a constant noise in the background of their relationship, they are all so stubborn and complicated. the plot bends to them, not the other way around. i see all the time people complaining about how the show is so bad/a failure but in the same breath say that they love the characters, as if the show's primarily goal is not to create and facilitate those same compelling characters that you love and let you watch as the story unfurls around them.

i mean, it's completely fine if you hate it. it's fine if you'd prefer every loose end to be tied, if you prefer the plot and story to take center stage, if you don't like it when a plotline seems to be forming but the characters decide against it, etc. it's a narrative choice, and not a "good" or a "bad" choice, just a choice. we all have our preferences. but your hatred of it is not any more "objective" than someone else's love for it. sometimes being a character-driven-story lover is difficult when online media criticism seems to always see it as a bug and not a feature.

[dreadark]

the difference between till at the start of round 6 and round 7

he doesn't seem like he's trying at all during round 6, having already fully given up living after losing mizi

but in round 7, even though he's lost even more, he's clearly putting all he has left into it

and the reason for that... has to be ivan, right?

he must have recognized ivan sacrificed himself for him, so for the sake of ivan's feelings till tries his absolute best to respond to them and perform that till sings at all here is for ivan

...but at the same time ivan is what haunts him

obviously, right? there's no way watching someone you were so close to you die like that right in front of you can give you actual "strength" (and this isn't even getting into the kiss...) contrary to ivan's (clearly wrong) conviction that till doesn't care enough for him to become a trauma to him, that's exactly what happens

this inextricable mix of love and hate, hurting and healing... this is the tragedy of their relationship to the end no matter how much ivan and till care for each other, they can't ever cure each other

[legmet]

[lazylittledragon]

pt 1 of some much requested cyra lore

[knightofleo]

Angela Orosco Silent Hill 2

[shivunin]

Because I have just seen this specific thing for the second time, I would like to say:

If I reblog your art, I do not expect you to reblog (or share!) my fic in return

If I comment on your fic, I do not expect you to comment on (or read!) mine in return

My enjoyment of anyone's work does not come with strings or expectations

My friendship is not a bill that you will have to pay later

That's it!

[fazmid]

Tag your age if you wanna bc I was just thinking about how I have used floppy disks before (I'm 25 and used them in elementary computer lab) but my 22 y.o. brother hasn't which is so weird to me like 3 years isn't a long time at all to me