#late nights with the milk

[bag-of-milk69]

I’d let carmilla kick my head off any day of the week

[cerealboxlore]

Batfamily: (Arguing over who should or should not take over the mantle of the bat if Bruce ever dies or retires)

A newborn Terry McGinnis: (Watching fruit dance on a screen) awababa

[milkteamoon]

Reading too much between the lines yet again, but someone I was talking to brought up this part from mag88 the other day and I have to wonder if maybe Martin knew Jon was ace way back in s2? Like much of fanon has Martin learning said fact from Melanie's comment in the mag106 recording, but there's something that sorta sweet to me about the idea that Martin could have known way before that and (more likely) from Jon himself.....

This would also definitely would support the fact that Jon and Martin had a pretty strong bond back in s2! Even with their limited interactions and with Jon's paranoia, we do know that they seemed to get along best out of all the archive members (with Jon and Tim at a standstill and Sasha being...all of that), that they were lunch buddies, and that Martin likely took Jon to get stitches after his encounter with Michael... Idk, it's just sorta nice to think about that Jon "never shares anything personal about himself with anyone" Sims maybe felt close enough to Martin despite everything to explain this very private, very personal bit about himself to him even way back then

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol

[luxites]

Can I PLEASE request a drawing of Muichiro Tokito with some boba so I can live up to my username?

Also I'm in LOVE with your artstyle

It's so pretty ❤

doodle request rules

hello!! AAAA thank you so much!!! (and thanks for waiting!)

idk what his usual order would be 🤔 I had a large strawberry milk slush boba yesterday so it was still on my mind... but my usual order is brown sugar milk tea or matcha latte with cream cheese foam

[petrichara]

It is December 14th

[lost-in-elysian]

Recently, I’ve been fantasizing about a maid/mistress dynamic. The idea of them sleeping right next to my bed, convenient enough to be of service to me.

There be times when I can’t fall asleep in which I need a good fucking to drift back to sleep. Luckily, all I need to do is creep over the side of my bed to get what I desire. I’ll caress their cheek and kiss their head— gently calling to them.

“Wake up, Honey. Come help your Mistress unwind…”

And they would know exactly what I meant by such commands. Climbing on to the bed, they would go to work in eating out until I’m in a sleepy haze. As a reward for being so good, I’d let them stay in bed with me— holding them in arms. I’ll play with their hair, telling them how they’ve been so good to me and that I adore them. Feeling the pressure of their head on my chest drifts me further to slumber.

[flyinmilk]

currently laying in bed at 1 am trying to sleep because i work a DOUBLE TOMORROW. while also convincing myself i am NOT a medium and have insane intuition. i am just a girl who gets anxious and over thinks so much to the point one possibility is BOUND to happen.

i am normal girl. normal teenage girl. i am going to look at a photo of myself a week ago and grieve who i once was. like i don’t look like that still.

also i’ve been pooping and getting headaches really bad recently.

~milk

[moonchild-in-blue]

I wanna ride a centaur.

[hannahs-quirky-moments]

Cereal is good any time of the day but it hits different at late at night. 🥣🤤😋

[superfastjellyfishsandwitch]

Late night snack

It’s the Ponyo tea and then some buttered toast with some cinnamon and sugar

[7footdown]

does anyone who likes these bands wanna be friends

[lightgriffinsect]

i think this beats the time i copypasted my pfp onto a stock photo of thomas the tank engine for stupidest thing i've ever done

technically my brother gets the credit lmao it was his idea

I didn't have time to put that many characters so just have My Five Blorbos™ badly resized directly from funkipedia

sorry in advance

[queengmine2crayon]

Guys, I think why I’m drawing and writing more than ever before in my life is because my dysphoria is striking and that I drown myself in it to forget about it. But we survive 🫡 (not)

Honestly, I’ve never had dysphoria before in my life and this fucking sucks wtf

Okay imma sleep now bye

Take care 💚

(Talking about sleep and coffee and smoothie in the tags lol)

[h0neyfreak]

The upside of a small wedding is being able to splurge on the food. The downside is literally everything sounds delicious and I have such a massive sweet tooth I feel like we’re going to end up with 47 types of cake and no main courses.

[aestheticblogpop]

Milk & Oreos