#please tell me if I need to add more tags!

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XVI

Master list link here (includes chapter links, character bios, and general summary)

A/N: So this was the first scene I imagined. And it was very one-sided initially, but as I wrote a little, I got more and more of Dylan's voice. And that's when I realized this was an alternating POV story because he certainly has had a lot to say up to this point! I very, very much hurt my feelings with this scene. Especially when I had to write all the scenes leading up to this one because....yeah. There was a scene in between this chapter and the previous chapter that I cut because of....reasons. There is nothing wrong with the missing scene, I felt it just made this scene a little less climactic. If you are wanting to read it, please let me know and I can add it back in, lol. There is one more chapter after this, so please don't hate me. And on a brighter note, I have definitely plotted and started writing a 25 (yes, 25) chapter prequel story! So, that will be coming eventually!

Warnings: unconsciousness, referenced head injury, blood, wounds, mcd (I think this might be it for tags)

Halle became dimly aware of sounds around her. Of hands on her back. Someone was holding her. Her head hurt. Her body hurt. Everything hurt. But the hands on her back were soft, gentle. Hands that she loved to be held by.

“Dylan,” she said softly as she blinked against the blinding light.

“There you are, you’re ok. I’ve got you.” Dylan looked visibly relieved. “I’m so glad you’re ok, Halle.”

Halle’s heart twinged when Dylan used her name. Dylan was still trying to keep his distance. Why? “Where’s Owen?”

Dylan’s eyes grew distant for a moment. “He can’t hurt you, Halle. I took care of him. He can’t hurt you.”

“Good.” Halle did a scan of her body. Everything felt in tact. “Thank you,” she added, staring up into Dylan’s eyes. She wanted to say that she still loved Dylan. Wanted to say she was sorry for all of the things she said. But she couldn’t find the words. How would she even begin to make it up to Dylan?

“Can you stand?”

“I’m ok. I can stand.” She sat up quickly, gasping as she saw she was covered in blood. Who’s blood?

“G-G-Good….I….I don’t think I can carry yy-y-youuuuu. I’m….I’m sssso-o-o-o t-t-t-tireddddd, s-s-s-sweetttthheart-t-t-t.” Dylan collapsed forward, his body falling across Halle.

“HELP! HELP!” Where was Thomas? Where was the rest of the team? “Where are you hurt? Dylan, where are you hurt? Love, tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me." Halle turned Dylan so he lay across her lap. Dylan was so heavy, so limp, already a dead weight in Halle’s arms. Dylan moaned as Halle heaved his body.

“”S kay. ’s kay…..” Dylan said breathlessly.

His chest was covered in blood, his black shirt torn around two great wounds: one on his left side and the other from just under his sternum to his navel. This couldn’t be happening. Halle tried to stem the bleeding as Dylan lay in her lap. Dylan was so tall and so heavy. She was too weak to move Dylan. She needed her pack. Where was her pack? She needed help. Where was the rest of the fucking team?

“No, no, no. Come on. You have to be ok, Dylan. I need you. I love you.”

***

“Just keep breathing, Dylan,” Halle’s frantic voice came.

“I….am…..sw’hearttttttt,” Dylan wheezed. Perhaps this is how things were always meant to be. It’s not so bad to be here in your arms. I love you. I love you. I love you.

“Tell me where it hurts. I can heal this. Just hold on.” Halle’s voice sounded panicked.

I don’t feel any pain. "’mmmmmmmm ffffffinnnnne.” Maybe this is bad. I don’t feel….much.

“I am so sorry. So sorry. Please. I didn’t mean any of it. Please stay. I love you. Please, Dylan. Please.” Halle’s eyes were filled with tears. Blood smudged her cheek. Her hands were coated with blood as she tried to brush her dark hair out of her face.

Are you ok? There’s so much blood on you. Dylan’s mouth wasn’t cooperating. Everything was fading, his vision slowly growing dark. You have to be ok. I need you to be ok, sweetheart. I am alive because you are alive. You have to be alive.

“No, no, nononono,” Halle tapped his cheek. Dylan dimly registered the feeling. “Stay with me. I love you. HELP!”

Am I ok? Are you worried about me? I….I feel strange.

“Dylan, please. Please don’t do this to me. Come on, I love you. Stay.” Halle’s voice was pleading. Her hand was boiling hot against his cheek. He wanted to reassure her, wanted to hold her hand, but it was all beyond him.

I’m so cold. I’m so tired.

“Don’t do this to me. Stay, Dylan. WHERE IS THE MED PACK?” Halle’s voice was heavy with tears.

My body is so heavy. I can’t…I can’t hold you. I…I feel so weak.

“Please, somebody help me! Help me! He’s dying. GIVE ME THE ACCELERATOR!” Halle sounded hysterical. Between her screaming and sobbing, Dylan knew Halle was hurt.

I think I’m not ok, sweetheart. I think….I think this is…not looking good. I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Dylan. You can’t leave me.”

I don’t think I have a choice. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want to leave. I want you. You were the best part of my life. I was alive with you. Because of you. The world around Dylan faded to just dim sounds, his vision failing completely.

“Don’t cry for him,” Thomas’s voice drifted into Dylan’s awareness. He didn’t have the energy to react. “I won’t authorize the use of an accelerator on this. If you can’t heal him with what you have in your med pack, so be it.”

My body hurts. I can’t breathe. I’m sorry. “If you aren’t going to help me, fuck off! Dylan, please. No! NO. PLEASE!”

I think I can’t stay. I think…..I think I’m going…….this is it.

“I need you to be ok. You’re supposed to be ok. You need to be here with me. Forever. Please, Dylan. I love you. Stay. Please stay.” Halle’s lips were against his ear, her tears dripping onto his face. He couldn’t see her, he could barely feel her. He could barely feel anything. Everything was slowing. Everything was stopping.

Am I still here?

“No. NO. NO. Dylan! PLEASE! GOD NO!”

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

@seysposts @cosmic-butterflys @wormjerky @godnessofmagic

@daddyslittlestgirlll

@thatlittlefirestarter @defire @jthecalmone @shook-skull @sagencrafts

@theforeverdyingperson @bilightningwhumper @cryptid-potato @fox-fox234 @deepfriedpan

@4-err0r-4 @half-duck @bigmiki @amberconnverse636 @penguin4473-blog

@abbyreader23 @lateuplight @firelan @octafi @paingoes

@xo7-parad0x @whumpandcomfort @kazekunai @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe @soul-of-a-local-bard

@dragonkales @kitarajy-kari @carosbee @celestialsoyeon @knightinbatteredarmor

@kay-kayxb177 @alwaysjaywalking @decayanddie @demetercabingreen-thumb @never-enough-novels

@whump-a-bear-workshop @sizzlingtigerwerewolf @urmum-11 @bleepblooppop @rattypop

@lexiebiss-blog @whumplump @geozone430 @jumpywhumpywriter @hufflepuffwritingstuff2

@anightmarishwhump @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pepeniascat

[fireflyflarenight]

[whathorselegs]

To give an example of how many of these types of tags/replies I get, most (though not all) of these are all from one post.

This isn't meant to shame anyone, which is why I've cropped out usernames, so please don't take this as a personal attack if you leave these types of tags on art/writing. I'm only asking that you consider how you might feel when a whole bunch of people are tagging your work with comments about harming themselves in reaction to something you created.

I know it's meant to be a compliment but I have severe depression and anxiety and seeing so many of these comments is overwhelming and makes me actively dislike posts where I get so many of them. I stop interacting with those posts, I don't look at them and I've considered deleting posts I that I used to love.

Yes, I like writing angst and sad things. Yes, dramatic tags are fun! Even ones that are like "I'm exploding!" are fine, because that's ridiculous! "Crying, screaming, throwing up!", "I'm sobbing", "Frothing at the mouth" and many more silly/dramatic tags are absolutely fine with me! Just not ones that so blatantly involve self harm and suicide.

I'm not trying to tell anyone how they can or can't react to art/writing, but just consider that the writer/artist does see your tags, all the tags and stuff like this being repeatedly thrown someone's way can effect them mentally.

[prettyflyshyguy]

Rejoice! Los Illuminados is bestowing upon you its most sacred body.

@cannibal-wings has been providing me excerpts and info about his RE4 remake AU.

It's good.

[prismsoup]

First artfight attack of the year for ERIV !

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[acourtofquestions]

“She had no magic to wield, save for the keen eyes of the goddess at her shoulder and an uncanny ability to remain unnoticed, to play into expectations.”

[scarletlight-has-issues]

Talk about being pinned to the wall haha

[oraclebell17]

hey so this game. obsessed.

[industria-adastra]

Ideal Heaven (Let's become one in mind, body and soul)

Summary: To her, to love, and to act upon that love, was a very simple thing. Because there were exquisitely ugly beings in this world. Because she always knew best. And because she loved anyone and everyone, and because she knew anything and everything…

Kriemhild Gretchen’s love was overpowering, because she only wanted what was best for those whom she loved.

And Kriemhild Gretchen loved humanity.

-

L-O-V-E L-O-V-E

(Listen to me)

Note: I am held in a chokehold by Vampire Knight rn (It literally rearranged my brain chemistry as a kid) but it doesn't mean I can't write for other fandoms. Like PMMM. And for MadoHomu (kinda) Listen to DOKUZU by Nakiso for a better feel?

------

Today, like every other day, was quiet. Below, the people rushed to get to their destinations, eager for another day of heaven. As always, their hair was perfectly styled, and perfectly coiffed. Their buttons shone and their eyes were glassy. 

The sun shone brilliantly, the sky was a perfect blue, and the flowers were blooming—just like every other day. Nothing was out of place: the floor was as polished as a mirror, and the air was as clean as could be. Together, they breathed as one in unison; the air cycling through to be used again and again. 

No one was sad, no one was angry. There was no suffering to be found in the empty expressions of her most cherished denizens. Mercy had been given freely, and the consequences had been clear to see.

The birds above in perfectly formed, perfectly trimmed trees sang in pitch-perfect harmony, and Kriemhild Gretchen was happy. 

So, so, very happy.

It was a joy only amplified by the peace of the people. 

She could feel the happiness of the people—a stagnant emotion like tar. It enveloped every one of them, coursing through their veins and pumping within their hearts. Subsuming them all to elevate their happiness to new heights. Their happiness fed hers, and so out of kindness she fed it right back to them, over, and over again—a negative feedback loop that would never end. 

There was no sorrow, no malcontent, and certainly no monsters here. She’d cast the light down, swallowed the darkness and gave priceless salvation. Ugly things did not exist within Kriemhild Gretchen’s world, for neither was there a place for them, nor were they ugly anymore after her mercy. Only beautiful things existed within Kriemhild Gretchen’s world, shining gloriously as a testament to all the good she wrought with her mercy. Because from beauty came rapture, and from rapture came euphoria. 

Euphoria meant happiness. Euphoria meant that nothing, nothing would ever colour her pristine world with dreadful, filthy despair again.

Their hearts beat together as one, steady, steady—light and free—and Kriemhild Gretchen knew that all was well.

(But down, down, down, deep below the surface, she could hear that irregular rhythm, all out of sync. And yet—

The world was perfect, perfect, perfect. Trees swayed gently, the vibrant colours dulling further and further as Kriemhild Gretchen dove deeper and deeper within her perfect world.

And yet still, opening the doors, travelling down the path within her steel-cage heart, she found a single blemish. 

Not on her, of course. Kriemhild Gretchen was the perfect being who loved all. Her love brought salvation, but salvation had to be wanted. And yet, she supposed she could not blame this blemish within her. For it was that spot of corruption that taught her of the idea of “love”. Love, which was encompassing and all-powerful. Love, which she could take, take, and take.

A love that centred only on two.

For some odd, odd reason, warring with a part of her that screamed to purify that corruption, Kriemhild liked that spot within her. Somehow, she preferred her that way, imperfect and so lovely on her own—her little crow in a sea of doves. 

That Girl was so strange. Some days, she wept. Some days, she screamed. Some days, she was almost just content—just enough to sink into Kriemhild’s loving embrace, staining her lovely, lovely skin before yanking herself out. A pretty little bird with contradictory feelings and actions.

Unbinding the chains, Kriemhild Gretchen gently pushed open the doors. Of course, not before ensuring her mask was picture-perfect. In earlier times, in her haste, Kriemhild often came in with the wrong shade of pink, or an unfortunate melted mess of some poofy pink dress amalgamated with neutral beige, or even with hair all too long and ribbons all too mismatched. She even practised her expressions too, moulding her “face” to suit those flashes of images of that other girl. 

That being said, all those failures still wrought better behaviour than when she came in as herself.

Passing through those doors as if gliding on air, the Witch of Salvation beheld her one and only sinner. There she lay, sleeping on a bed of soft silk and flesh, eyes closed and her hands clasped over her chest. Kriemhild thought a delicate little crown might suit those elegant features, to complete this image—her own little sleeping beauty.

Slowly, slowly, Kriemhild crept closer; hands outstretched from the walls, closer, closer. She admired the black dress contrasting the pallor of her skin, head tilted as she stared. Yes, the Witch thought. Black truly did suit her slumbering doll.

Closer, closer, closer. Her hand moved to brush lightly against that girl’s cheek. Carefully, Kriemhild willed herself to simply grow out of the bed instead, painting legs on either side of the girl. Hands moved to open the crossed palms on her chest as the girl sunk deeper and deeper into slumber. Kriemhild went down, down, down, pressing her ear against that irregularly beating heart.

Thump, thump, thump. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

A wonderful, sublime sound.

Fingers reached to trace a line from her jaw to her heart, talon-like nails skimming over the unprotected flesh of her neck—lamentably marred by a singular, savage bite. One hand slid between raven black strands of hair, tensed, waiting.

And then Kriemhild yanked. 

The girl’s eyes snapped open in pain, shiny, dulling amethyst meeting with Kriemhild’s own brightly pink ones. At that, she grinned, ecstatic to see her most beloved sinner singularly focused on her. (What a terrible harbinger of salvation she was, having favourites. But then again, did prophets and apostles not exist?) 

“Helloo~ Good morning!” Kriemhild’s hands moved to roughly cup the girl’s face, nails pressing on delicate skin. Her torso moved forward until their noses were only centimetres away from touching, still keeping that manic grin on her “face”.

“M— Mado…ka?” Her poor darling slurred, still ever so out of it. But it was oh so adorable, and all Kriemhild wanted to do was eat her, swallow her down, and meld the two of them until she stopped calling her by the wrong name.

But Kriemhild Gretchen was salvation and mercy personified, so instead, she giggled—a soft, tinkling sound that would reverberate within your ears. Over and over again. She wasn’t angry. No, no. Her little birdie just needed a little…reminder.

In low sotto voce, she responded, “Silly… You know that’s not my name, don’t you?”

And then, a kiss, for the pretty princess. Soft but intent, leaving no other option than for the spell to be broken. Kriemhild’s hands fisted black hair, entangling it within her fingers. The scent of roses filled the air. Then she drew back, watching the fog recede from those purple eyes. 

“What’s my name?” Kriemhild calmly asked, seeing sparks flickering once more. The girl didn’t answer. The walls pulsed, contracting flesh and bone. Once, twice.

Thrice.

“Come on, I’m quite sure you know it by now, don’t you? I believe you’re smart enough to remember something as simple as that, right? Come now, say my name.” Kriemhild’s voice was poisonously sweet, a sign of her waning patience. Even a being as magnanimous as her was bound to have a limit to patience. Especially when it came to her name. 

Eyes more red than pink bore down at the figure beneath her. She could hear that irregular heart, fluttering its wings like a hummingbird.

“My name, Dear.”

The girl’s eyes darted around, searching for something Kriemhild couldn’t see. Didn’t she know there was nothing here but Kriemhild and her? Nothing else but the two of them (forever, forever, forever). A small, pink tongue quickly swiped at chapped lips, before a light, airy voice came out. “Kriem—” She paused, taking a small glance at Kriemhild’s current, waiting expression. “Kriemhild Gretchen.”

As always these days, her words came slow, not quite the sharp blades they once were. It was indeed a testament to Kriemhild Gretchen’s own mercy and patience, to wait as long as she could. But the reward at the end was always worth it.

“Good girl!” Kriemhild was as quick as always to hand out praise, arms wrapping tight around a thin torso before she squeezed with suppressed euphoria. Little laughs trickled out from her mouth, muffled only by the fact that her face was pressed against the girl’s chest—deforming as it was right now. Minutes passed by before Kriemhild deemed herself safe from melting before her raven’s eyes.

Once again, her hands moved to cup her little birdie’s face before she spoke. “You’ve been becoming more and more of a good girl these days, you know? Before, it would always take such a long time for you to remember that I’m. Not. Madoka.” White noise hung in the air, buzzing with an intensity that only grew and grew.

Her name was Kriemhild Gretchen.

The girl only ever called her “Madoka�� when unprompted.

Yes, Kriemhild Gretchen was mercy personified. Yes, she was the most perfect, pure being in this corrupted (now violently cleansed) world. Yes, she only ever did her best to turn this world into paradise. But Kriemhild Gretchen did not share.

These people, this girl most of all, were all hers, hers, hers.

(Because she loved her, and her little birdie loved her too but only through a mask, no matter how inelegant and diminutive it was. Kriemhild Gretchen loved with a ferocity that belied an all-consuming desire for her beautiful raven to love her madly, truly—to allow Kriemhild one day fully swallow her whole, subsuming her so she would never, ever leave. Never, ever cry once more. Kriemhild Gretchen loved this pitiful sinner of hers and no one would take her from Kriemhild.)

It took her much less time to notice the blood leaking from the girl’s nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. This time, she didn’t even have to be told by the drip drip drip of crimson life. Kriemhild shifted in the girl’s lap, noting the subtle wince at the changing weight. She must’ve twisted and broken her legs again.

Gently, Kriemhild wiped away the blood nearing those soft lips, smearing it on her knuckles and her raven’s fine-boned cheek.

What a pretty picture.

She kissed her again.

“You know you’re mine for all eternity, right?”

Her caged bird did not respond.

----

Once, she held in her heart an ice-cold body, perfectly preserved in all its beauty. Mangled yet healing, Kriemhild’s hands held that small heart of her bird’s near her own makeshift body, wondering if she should simply eat it bit by bit or swallow it whole.

For some reason, she’d returned that glowing heart of purple glass back to its original body instead. Staring at the girl who should’ve only been another sinner to her, Kriemhild had not yet understood why she kept her—nor the three other bodies she’d consumed—inside her heart.

Yes, they’d come a long way from that moment.

And yet, and yet… It really wasn’t enough. Kriemhild could feel it in her very soul.

----

That girl… No, “Homura”, was still not content within this world, within her. 

How much longer until they would be one? How much longer would she come in, always hearing Madoka, Madoka, Madoka first? How much longer did she have to put up with that mask?

As she pondered those questions, Kriemhild Gretchen swallowed Homura deeper in, creating more doors, creating more thorny vines to keep her most beloved sinner. Perhaps Kriemhild Gretchen’s heaven was imperfect (and oh, how it stung to know so) for Homura. Perhaps Homura only needed to understand her more, by delving deeper into her world. 

Perhaps, one day, she would no longer be called “Madoka” first.

And perhaps one day, her heart would not feel so empty.

(Three bodies in, and yet still Kriemhild wanted, wanted, wanted)

[autistic-katara]

heartbreaking: beloved mutual reblogs obvious propaganda and dogwhistles but ur too emotionally attacked to block them

[ghostorbz]

A shell of who we were, who we could've been

[scarrypossmscribs]

Something fluffy with seth please, delivers fire tacos?

[sorry i don't know what the delivers fire tacos mean- but i can can certainly cook up some fluff for you :> (srry not srry for the pun)] cw!Yandere, cw!Stalking

Brain Freeze ~ BLD Mini-Fic

Characters belong to @hotpinkmoon !

The warm buzz of august air drifting across you, eliciting an uncomfortable sigh from your lips. The weather today was pretty unrelenting, if the layer of sweat on your skin was anything to go by. Figuring that your walk in the park was a bust- and that maybe you should probably just find some shade to relax in, you move to do just that. Planting yourself comfortably underneath the shade of a tree. While the heat wasn't completely gone- it wasn't as unbearable as before. A hum of contentment leaving you as the cool shadows worked their magic. Though- the shuffle of grass and leaves from behind the wood you rested on sparked a bit of curiosity in you. Ooh- maybe you'd get to see a cute squirrel shuffling around! Quietly shifting from your position, you take a small peak, trying your best not to startle the hidden creature. Only to lock eyes with a semi-stranger. "Uwah!?" The chestnut haired man yelped, his hair fluffing up slightly, looking as if he'd had a heart attack. Eyes unable to meet yours. Slightly amused, you couldn't help but notice his a bit...well... out of the ordinary attire. Beanie, jacket, gloved hands... no wonder he decided to seek out shelter here, he'd probably be dying in this heat if he didn't! "I- Um...H-hi?" The poor man managed to squeak out, all the courage in his body mustered up just so he could look you in the eyes. Oh.. oh! You've seen him before! He'd show up sometimes where you worked, and you'd always try to strike up friendly chats with your killer customer service smile. Well- its not like you had much of a choice... but he seemed like a nice person! Though he wasn't usually much for conversation- usually responding with stuttered out words, nods, and shy smiles. "Oh hi!" You responded eagerly. You hadn't met many people out of work...so maybe this could be a good chance? "I remember you, from my work." You add, flashing him a warm smile. "Y-you do?" The man's face seemed to flush a bit, his fingers nervously toying with each other. "Yup!" Came your warm reply, followed by a small beat of silence as the man searched for a response. "Mm... Hey- why don't we get some slushies to drink?" Seeing his flushed cheeks, and the subtle sweat sticking to his temple, you couldn't help but feel that this guy needed some relief from the heat. "Eh? S-sure?" His face morphed into confusion- and then bursting into a fluster as you helped pull him up. "Never got your name by the way! Though you probably know mine from my name tag." You looked over at him as you dusted any leaves off of you. "I- I'm Seth?" His response- worded like a question, earning a warm chuckle out of you. "Well then Seth~, drinks are on me!" You grin, taking his gloved hand back in yours, rushing off to the nearest convenience store, with him in tow.

Back at the tree, your eyes glanced from the the blue of the slushie, to the blue of Seth's eyes. Both were colors pretty- was the conclusion you came to. "U-uhm?" Oops- you got caught. Seth's eyes glanced away, already overwhelmed from just a little bit of staring. "Sorry- I just thought it was kinda funny- your eyes kinda matching the slushie you're drinking, I mean." "A-ah? Oh.. s-sorry?" He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, safely opting to apologize instead. Ugh- that made your heart melt a bit... and not in the good way. Your energetic tone calms a bit, "You don't have anything to apologize for?" The words leave his heart stuttering uncontrollably in his chest. His eyes losing confidence, and flickering away like a startled butterfly. He sips on the cool drink once again, hoping it douses the fluttery feelings in his stomach, so he doesn't... mess anything up. "Your eyes are a really pretty blue, though." "Hck?!"

The comment has him choking on the slush- the chill or maybe your words- freezing his brain. He hopes his downward gaze shields you from seeing the undeniably obvious blush covering his face. Gahhh he was such a mess. "Ah? Seth are you alright? Brain freeze?" Your kind words only sending more heat rushing to his cheeks. "N-no.. I mean- yes..." He was thankful for the brain freeze in that moment, unable to deny the overpoweringly soft feelings that flooded him as you gave him a loving, worried gaze. Y-You did love him right? You spent the day hanging out with him after all...

Yes... he was sure of it. You loved him. That thought washed over him, enveloping his body in it's cool embrace. His insides feeling as mushy as the cold slushy he held looked. He would do anything...anything to prove that he was worthy of the love you had just blessed him with.

[cheerios230]

BEHOLD! The Spiders of Empires of the Undergrowth! (with Arachnophobia Mode on its second lowest setting. Also under its a Read more so open at your own risk)

The Whip Spider "Heterophrynus Batesii"

A Harvestman from "Various Species"

The Jumping Spider "Psecas Viridipurpureus"

The Sand Bear Wolf "Arctosa Perita"

The Beach Wolf Spider "Arctosa Littoralis"

A Magnolia Green Jumper "Lyssomanes Viridis"

The Green Lynx Spider "Peucetia Viridans"

A Fishing Spider "Dolomedes Triton"

A Huntsman Spider "Pseudomicrommata Mary"

And last but certainly not least the Sun Spider "Zeria Keyserlingi"

[puffballwarrior-blog]

I was showing my friend that magolor cries during the epilogue and this is the video I made to prove it

And this is what my other friend had to say about it

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

this is a very stupid question, but is there a way to somehow repurpose fancy underwear? I have a whole bag of things I shoplifted long ago, but won't wear now since lingerie is satanic, made of plastic, very harmful & a tool of patriarchy and now i’m a cotton male briefs truther. I no longer have any toxic female friendships where there is no clear distinction between me and her and we can just borrow each others underwear so i can't even give it to such person. and my hoarding tendencies make me unable to throw away anything that isn't falling apart. so far the only thing I came up with is to use them (after cutting into small pieces) as stuffing in dolls i (will have to) make.