#plus the always present

[softmeetscreatureplz]

Btw sorry but unfortunately my mind is currently trapped between Shame™️ (over existing. Fuck being so socially anxious-) and Guilt✨️✨️(not doing said things) and Tireddddd (everything irl)-

Plus mother has decided to be extra homophobic nd shit the last couple days, and apparently me nd her *alone* r going to a fair together tmrw so. If I'm not responding 2 anything that is specificly plot/heavy/have to be somewhat mentally aware 4,, I'm sorry nd ill (probably. Hopefully??) be back on Saturday.

[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.

[legionofpotatoes]

puss in boots 2 is the real deal. this cat isn't just passionately voiced by antonio banderas and rendered in a stunning new style that pushes 3d further out of the generic wax museum; he also has anxiety

[muninnhuginn]

The good thing about this being a weekly airing series is that I'll get to see pretty quickly if I'm on the mark with this but rn am thinking of how pre-amnesia seven was unreadable and so people presumed the worse. Like, we know this part already. His (relative) silence and lack of clear expression let people read into him what they thought fitting.

With post-amnesia seven meanwhile, one of his main characteristics is how *chatty* he is. Someone will charge at him and he'll start commentating.

So, like, now he's getting his memories *back* (albeit in dribs and drabs), the first thing we notice is the whole earnestly trying to murder some guys (as opposed to half-heartedly fighting and/or being on the defence the whole time). But, we actually see in his mind during this. We see that he's been instructed to react in this way. That he's literally superimposing skulls/monsters(?) over the Stan guys in his head (#healthy coping mechanisms). But he doesn't say anything to anyone there and they sure can't see into his mind and so all *they* see is an unleashed killing machine. He's back to not explaining himself.

And, it's just, they presume the worst this time too. Dai Bo, especially, is clearly wondering if he's going to lose the Seven he knows. And sure, we don't have the whole picture as the audience yet, but we can still see that Seven's first *action* after being set off was actually to *protect* the healer. It was only after he'd acted to save that he got swept into the bloodlust.

I'm guessing a lot of this season is going to be us watching Seven acting more like his pre-amnesiac self, but this time, we'll be getting the inside scoop on what's going on inside his brain. So as the audience, we can see how he's both his past and present (how his past was never as different as it seemed), but those around him won't get that insight. They'll be forced to trust in the bonds Seven built with them previously. And it'll either come down to them seeing through Seven to the root of his actions or to Seven actually being able to *communicate* this time, now he's actually been able to make connections of his own. Connections his past self was sorely lacking.

[nyatbinary-81]

@vulpixisananimal sifstem art jumpscare!! more specifically i got bored and decided to mess around with sif and mal's outfits.

[nailgunstigmata]

i know deep in my heart that mac had a phase where he got really into shitty phone games but specifically on dennis‘ phone. he pokes dennis with a fork during breakfast until he just goes WHAT and mac is like can i play some games bro….pls 🥺🥺 and dennis throws a spoon at his head yelling at him to just install them on his own phone (same model). and then dennis angrily eats oatmeal with water while mac plays bejeweled on dennis‘ phone at full volume and every time he loses a heart he goes FUCK and tells the computer hes going to kill it

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐕𝐈: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 ⚜

Sources: One | Two | Three

Event Host: @wickblr

Summary: Vincent toys with a candle recklessly to tempt Chidi into playing a dangerous game with him.

CW: smut, wax play/temperature play, bratting, self-harm scare (it's not what Chidi thinks), previously established BDSM relationship

What can Vincent be holding in his secret heart? What patience will win that knowledge? And how can Chidi quiet his own heart without knowing?

With respect, and with love. That is, as always, the answer. Vincent is being silent tonight, and that frightens him every time. But Chidi's worry is his own to manage. He's lucky just to be in Vincent's presence.

The most exquisite man in all the world is sitting at the window, watching the sun die behind clouds too thick to transmit the glow. There’s only a little light at the horizon, as the day turns to night without sunset. Outside, a dismal rain falls gently but persistently, and inside, the lights are off in the bedroom. The only fire of this evening is in Vincent’s hands. He’s taken up a long, white candle, and he’s playing with it more idly than Chidi would like. But then, it lends him that daring quality which Chidi loves, the dark playfulness that sometimes comes over him in the midst of fencing or even a genuine knife fight.

“Assieds-toi avec moi. [Sit with me,]” he says, without turning towards Chidi, and Chidi can think of nothing he’d rather do. He sets a matching chair next to his master.

Vincent is fresh from the bath, warmed and flushed all over. He seems so small, so fragile against the vastness of the autumn evening. Pink rosiness glows out from under the loose fur robe that he’s allowed to slip down off his shoulders. It falls around him as a blanket, giving him the look of someone disheveled, debauched even, to match his tossled, damp hair. The candlelight singes its way across his features in yellow-gold, turning his irises to honey. But Chidi can’t read the look on his face. Pensive? Dreamy? Tense?

He’s staring into the flame, unmoving. The wax pools slowly at its tip, a little hollow of mesmerizing liquid. Chidi watches Vincent watching it, tries desperately to read him. He’s so caught up in the effort that it takes a moment for him to notice how the candle is hovering over Vincent’s lap. It’s starting to tilt.

“Marquis.” He doesn’t answer. He’s doing this on purpose. Chidi’s heart goes into his throat. “Vincent.” Still nothing, not even a change in expression. The wax shimmers.

It’s pure reflex. His hand shoots out to shield Vincent’s skin, a split second before the drip can make contact. On the back of his hand, there’s a fiery sting. It doesn’t hurt as much as he expected but he’s speechless at what just happened. He notices that his hand is still on Vincent’s thigh but doesn’t dare take it away because the candle is still hovering above it. 

Vincent, to his surprise, just breaks into a smile. “Tu trembles. Pour moi. [You’re shaking. For me.]” There’s real tenderness coloring his voice. He leans forward and leaves a reverent kiss on Chidi’s lips in reward. 

He swallows, trying to focus on the problem at hand. “Bien sûr que je le suis. Monsieur, pourquoi avez-vous - [Of course I am. Sir, why did you - ]"

“C'est une bougie spéciale. Tu aimes ça ? Je l'ai acheté dans un club à Rome. La cire fond à une température plus froide que la plupart des autres, suffisamment froide pour couler sur la peau. C'est pour le plaisir. [It's a special candle. Do you like it? I got it at a club in Rome. The wax melts at a cooler temperature than most, cool enough to drip on skin. It’s for fun.]”

Oh. Chidi’s heart refuses to fall back into its regular rhythm, even as he exhales. “Ne m’effraie pas comme ça. Je pensais que tu étais… imprudent. [Don’t scare me like that. I thought you were…being reckless.]”

All he offers is a smug grin and a shrug. “Tu as ressenti un frisson, je peux le dire. C'est tellement protecteur… En tout cas, c'est plutôt sûr. Bien sûr, il y a parfois des histoires d'horreur à propos d'impuretés dans la cire qui fondent trop fort. Des cicatrices permanentes… on ne sait jamais ce qui peut arriver. Mon garde du corps devrait s'en préoccuper, n'est-ce pas ? [You got a thrill out of it, I can tell. So protective… Anyway, it’s quite safe. Though of course, there are occasional horror stories of impurities in the wax that melt too hot. Permanent scars…one never knows what could happen. My bodyguard ought to be concerned with that, wouldn’t you agree?]” His hand drifts back, threatening a spot closer to his torso, where Chidi’s hand is no longer in the line of gravity. With a lurch of adrenaline, he follows, just in time to be struck by another searing droplet. He’s farther up Vincent’s thigh now, and acutely aware of how his thumb is pressing against the inside of the flesh.

A game is afoot. Follow the fire. Protect the Marquis.

Vincent leans back, as if he’s just getting comfortable, and lets the robe fall open. Chidi can’t help stealing a glance at his erection before locking eyes with him again. They’re both breathing too fast. But he’d better keep his focus on the candle - now it’s close to the V-line of his hip. (V for Vincent. V for voluptuous.) Chidi’s hand slides up to follow, feeling the dips and the curves and the sudden hits of pain. Vincent’s thigh is all disused muscle and gentle plumpness, the innocence of a body that has never known physical labor. Chidi presses into it to convey his urgency. The sense of danger still lingers, the need to prove that he’ll never let Vincent feel even an ounce of pain on his watch. 

Vincent keeps moving the candle. Up. Back down, up again. He’s puppeting Chidi’s hand, teasing himself with it. He bites back a moan but the way it changes his breathing still halts Chidi’s. In another second he moans anyway, frustrated - he’s teased himself too much and now he can’t take it anymore. 

Then the candle is over his cock. Chidi could swear Vincent’s eyebrow twitches upward just a fraction in challenge.

There’s no hesitation. Chidi grabs it, cupping the tip in protection. The candle flickers as Vincent tenses up with sudden pleasure. “Putain… [Fuck...]”

“C'est dangereux, monsieur. [This is dangerous, sir,]” Chidi admonishes. “Si ça coule ici, ça fera trop mal, peu importe le type de bougie. [If it drips here it will hurt too much, no matter what kind of candle it is.]” He's still shaking. But he doesn’t safeword.

“Alors tu ferais mieux d’être extrêmement prudent avec moi. [You’ve better be exceedingly careful with me then.]” The Marquis' voice is unnaturally soft and heady. 

God, this man will be the death of him. “...D'accord, je le serai. […Okay, I will be.]” Chidi puts a second hand at the base of his cock, now enveloping it completely.

The Marquis grips at the arm of the chair, making the most gratified sorts of noises, while a lazy drop of wax strays onto Chidi’s wrist. Vincent throws his head back, breaking eye contact for the first time in their little game. “S’il te plaît… ne reste pas assis là. Ne vois-tu pas que ce n’est pas suffisant de supporter ma douleur ? Fais-moi plutôt ressentir quelque chose de bien. [Please…don’t just sit there. Don’t you see it’s not enough to take my pain? Make me feel something good in its place.]”

And of course, Chidi obeys. He translates the heat in his hands into long, sensual strokes that wring heavenly noises out of Vincent. It seems to go on forever in that otherworldly space of total service and devotion. The candle is their hourglass and time counts forward only by each drop of wax. With every hit, both of them jump, heightening the tension. 

Vincent’s breathing is getting heavier, his eyes half lidded. The candle is burning low, and as the flame approaches his master’s fingers, Chidi’s fear becomes more real. He accelerates his pace until Vincent’s hips start to thrust upward into his grip. Good, he’s close to losing control.

Everything is on fire now. If Chidi has a body outside of his busy hands and the bulge straining at his inseam, he has lost all awareness of it. It’s swallowed in the pure sex of those delicious sensations, in the scent of wax and smoke and Vincent’s musky-sweet pheromones, in the sight of Vincent’s parted lips and shadowed eyes, in the next huge drop of wax building up at the edge of the candle.

The final rush of warmth comes not from above, but flooding into his palm, accompanied by a high-pitched whine and a string of French expletives as Vincent melts completely under his touch. Chidi loses himself in it, in a bodily sympathy for Vincent. He realizes too late that there’s a wet spot forming in his slacks. 

Vincent giggles. “Regarde ce que tu as fait. Je - [Look what you’ve done. I - ]“

“La flamme, monsieur! [The flame, sir!]” It’s glowing right against Vincent’s fingers now. Before anything can happen, Chidi’s breath snuffs it out. With a swift motion, he sends it flying onto the windowsill where it can't touch Vincent anymore.

There’s darkness. Silence. Only the light of the blue-black sky and the patter of raindrops and the ocean of their breathing. Vincent amends his phrasing. “Regarde ce que tu fais pour moi. [Look what you do for me.]” There’s no misinterpreting the affection in his gaze now. He leans forward.

The last whisper of smoke is trapped between their joining lips.

[lattedusks-mochadawns]

Goofy Wild Kratts Doodles from my sketchbook part 1

(Click some for full image)

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Okay but also because I'm a pedantic bitch...in relation to that post I just reblogged explaining part of gay-on-gay bigotry...what if some people are just assholes who happen to be gay, or bi or trans? And they're all for oppression or just plain cruelty as long as it's aimed at other people? Like that's also something to consider.

I don't actually think, any longer, that "internalized self-hate projected outward and also suppressed envy for someone who's doing and being all the things you were convinced into not allowing yourself" is...all there is to this phenonemon. And I wish we'd stop fixating on that quite so much just because we want to be frankly, nicer than some of these people have ever deserved. It's always more satisfying on some level, to imagine your enemies as Tortured deep inside (whether it's because you feel a bit malicious or you just want to believe that there's a way to reach out and heal them with kindness.) than to admit that Sometimes They're Just a Shithead.

Now, do I think that complex can be a big part of it? Oh yeah. And of COURSE, different people have different motivations in different amounts and yadda yadda yadda. No group of people, ethnic, gender, political or otherwise is a Monolith. (For one thing, when it comes to these Pick-Me Gay/Trans pundits and Influencers, money and clout should never be left out as an explanation. Just saying.) But that's the point, isn't it? Any ONE explanation can't explain them all completely.

Tbh, I think we need to consider some people are just bullies who happened to be born not cis or straight. And even if they were bullied at one point for their identity, they learned absolutely nothing from the experience except Don't Be On the Social Reject Side. So they moved their thinking just enough that "woman who likes women" "man who likes men" "I just happened o want to be a woman instead, or a man instead despite how I was born" could be put in the Safe category and they fight for that. Everyone else though, is still fair game and even a fair target. Some people don't just want power to escape oppression and live their lives in peace, they WANT to BE the ones oppressing. Like, do we ACTUALLY understand that LGBT people are humans too and that that includes the bad side?

It tracks a lot better too, when you consider that a lot of people like the masc4masc gays are openly racist and fatphobic. "No fems" Yes but also "No fats. No Asians." Christ, I could think of countless examples of white thin (and sometimes but not necessary cis) queer people doing that sort of thing. I'm sure y'all can too. This idea of some poor lost soul Tormented by Self Hate and Envy of the Freedom of Others doesn't do shit to explain that. Like, even if the two things coexist and they can, it doesn't explain that part.

I honestly just think the uglier but more accurate truth is that lot of queer people aren't all Hashtag Gay or Trans Rights or aren't Liberal out of any sense of justice AT ALL but only self-interest. Being an activist because you're a member of an oppressed group is like, entirely normal and fine of course BUT it becomes real clear when someone's framework of ethics and politics is PURELY "I think me (and people I personally like and approve of) being oppressed is bad" and literally not one inch deeper.

You can tell because if it was deeper, why would they find it so easy to turn around to a fellow queer/trans person to jeer at and humiliate and throw them under the bus if they think they're a Deadweight to the group by being a Weirdo I Don't Want to Stand Next to, Eww...or if they just don't personally like them? Why have you clearly spent absolutely no time unpacking any of the prejudice and biases around gender sexuality (or GOD FORBID race) that society throws at you.. at least no more time than it takes to rationalize yourself out of the category of Should Be Destroyed and Oppressed?

We are not immune from this sort of terminally self-interested activism. I just feel like we'd get a lot further as a society, as a community, if sometimes our analysis of bullies and assholes didn't fixate on finding some deep pain and trauma inside them, to explain their actions in a way that makes them look more tortured and less malicious (even if we say, even mean, that it's not supposed to be an excuse). Sometimes people are just racist, or fatphobic. Sometimes lesbians or gay men or bi or trans people just want to be judgmental bullies too.

Sometimes the reality isn't Tragic Villain Backstory. Sometimes, its just a selfish, deeply pathetic person refusing to become any less, because it's easier not to; even if you had a unique chance to see how the other side lives, a chance your straight cis bully peers didn't get by virtue of their identities.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[summertimemusician]

Linktober (Shadow) 2023

Spirit

Welp turns out my exam season throughly steam rolled through my general Linktober plans, so you get this VERY late thing for now folks who find this, at least until I decide whether to continue this until I finish it even though it's no longer Linktober or if I'll make whatever other stories come later their own thing after exam season is over (mostly because the original for this one is my preferred draft, and that I feel the one for the Link/Dark Link prompt would be kind of wasted if it just sat there collecting dust cause I worked hard on the tension and horror there lord darn it, along with a few others mainly involving Fae Hyrule, Twilight, Time, First, among other Links like Legend, Sky, Warriors, just all of the boys, I wanted to give them all proper spotlight and still want to do that in any way I can). Welp. *Downs coffee like a shot* Also really need to find out how to make a Masterlist on mobile, figure out how AO3 works and answer asks.

Anyway, not really any warnings this time besides Reader Not Being Okay (par the course really) and angst.

As always can be read as either romantic or platonic, Reader is gender neutral on purpose, technically is meant to be read as either Hero's Shade Time x Reader or First x Reader mainly, but you can interpret it as any Link really lol

Good reading!

This corner of Faron Woods was quiet this time of year.

The woods were solemn in this Hyrule, the sliver of moonlight barely enough of a guide through the mist, it was silent but for the soft padding of animals through the underbrush and the howl of a wolf in the distance (not Wolfie's, not musical enough). The stars were your only company as you were separated from the group, the air was cold agaisnt your skin as you attempted to find your way.

Being alone in the forests of Hyrule never spelled anything good for anyone, but as you felt the brush of a hand tenderly twined in yours, the ghost of leather and the faint clinking of steel, and a faint glow of pale gold and ivory cutting through the veil of the night, mindful of roots you may trip onto and never flickering too far out of sight you couldn't feel safer, even  if instead something like melancholy threatened to lock your throat with the chains of silence, you felt as warm as the soft twilight glow and as frigid as ice, frostburned with the bitter cold of your own warring emotions.

You can't help but chuckle a bit whille holding a old scabbard close to your heart, it's a wry sound, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There is no answer, of course there isn't, but you don't mind, you know he'll listen, thorns wrap around your heart and crawl up your throat, the smell of lilies and steel coats and sticks in your throat like honey, or maybe blood, "... I didn't think you'd show up, you know? I always considered the possibility but..." You trail off, you feel something brush your side, you can only see him in the corner of your eyes or with a passing glance, there but not, existing but gone, so you keep your eyes on the road and in the flicker of light, so you carefully don't look to your side, you don't think you could contain the shaking in your heart otherwise, to stare at inevitability and prophecy, "... I know, I know you're fine. At least for now, I apologize for all the trouble I gave you."

'It's alright. It could never be a hardship aiding you.', the voice echoes in your ears, and you swallow thickly, breath hitching, the warmth of the sun in the fields of Hyrule, the wind caressing your hair, the song of the animals in Faron Woods, someone holding you carefully, fondly. The warmth of your hand in his. Not really here, but not gone either, more feeling than true echo.

You chuckle, and try to pretend it's not a bit breathless, something like a wounded keen, "... You're too kind. Too, too kind, thank you."

Spirits in Hyrule never spell anything good, in this wild land of light and shadow in a gestalt of divinity. There are some exceptions though, even if it hurts to witness then. So you follow him through the dark, certain that as you've guided his way once, he'll lead you now to where you need to go.

----------------------------------------------------------

... The clearing he leads you to is open, but by no means truly quiet among the trees, there is no peace to be found for the armored skeleton here. You choke on sorrow, on unfinished business, on the cruelty of being brought to ruin and being denied peace, and you stumble towards the familiar figure, almost in a trance as your vision blurs, roots and thorny vines wrap over rusted armor and a thorn cape, the skeleton's void sockets piercing through your soul, illuminated by the solemn gaze of the wretched moon and it's uncaring maids of honor in the stars.

You fall to your knees near the decaying skeleton, biting back against the wounded sound that attempts to leave your throat with enough strenght to bleed, you lay the scabbard by his side with a bouquet of lilies and shiver at the gentle, phantom touch, so soft, so loving it almost leads you to ruin all over again.

'... It's foolish to grieve for someone who isn't gone yet.' the thought comes to you, yet you can't help it. You still hurt for him, you still hold onto the fury at the heavens themselves for denying them quietus. For denying them rest over and over and over again. To watch this cycle and be helpless to stop it all due to the will of uncaring gods.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Denied full rest over and over again, to watch the chance at rest to the kindest of souls found in this world you found yourself in.

You barely register the touch to your cheek, ephemeral as it is, as you can't help but shed tears, can't help but grieve. Because if you don't, who will?

You know by now that some wounds can never heal, some rifts can never be mended. Even with the guarantee of cyclic, eternal rebirth, some things never return to how they were. And reminding yourself of this inevitability to them will never not hurt, even if you know it's futile to blame anyone but the one god who started this, and maybe the goddess who stood complacent to it. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that it'll one day come to this, that the frost of death and the sharpness of pain will leave a mark the sands of time can't scar over.

You reach a trembling hand towards the one in your cheek, try to find catharsis in the remains of decayed, dead yet ever eternal, ever growing love. And you breathe.

'We'll meet again. So do not mourn for me, please.'

You don't think you could deny him if you tried. Not when you know he's trying to soothe you, to thaw your sorrow. To allow your heart's healing to fallow.

"We will, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry." You chuckle, leaning into the cold, trying to brand the memory of the shadowed, but not gone love given to you so you can return it in kind. Just until you meet again, just until you can give all you can to his not yet decomposing self, grasping onto what remains of him, "I love you."

'I love you too. Until we meet again.'

The cold is gone, the echo of love leaves. And you breathe, and pretend you don't feel empty.

(When you see Link again, reuniting with the Chain on the next day's twilight. You hug him as tight as you can, and hope you he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes. And that you don't feel the lingering traces of a frigid embrace.

When no one is looking, you wave goodbye to the shade. And pray he dreams of warmer days until he finds quietus.)

[moonsidesong]

its weird to me seeing people insist "people dont connect as strongly with deep cut because they skip the news!!!" as if off the hook didnt get most of their popularity from literally just octo expansion and a common complaint before it came out was that they didnt seem to have as much going on as squid sisters LOL

[scleracentipede]

❣️Apparel Drop on 28th May 1pm (GMT) ❣️

We're so excited to bring out our firsrt ever clothing items (after alot of request from ya'll on here and elsewhere which has been so sweet)! We can't wait to see ya'll in these once their availabe on our site!

Browse the stuff we already have out here.

Quick note on sustainability below cut for those interested

We have decided to ship pieces of clothing directly from our manufacturer to you to cut down on CO2 in our shipping and to help reduce waste as this will allow us to only produce pieces that people want rather than ordering a bunch of stock that may not sell.

This does mean that any clothing orders will not come with our usual freebies or in our funky scleracentipede packaging but we think it's worth it for the planet!

If you order anything else from us that isn't clothing it'll come in its usual fun and recycleable packaging with the freebies :)

If you have any questions about our sustainability or anything else please feel free to send us an ask! We'd love to talk more about the steps we take to make our art sustainable!

[kerorowhump]

god the writing in KG is just impeccable and it does NOT get the credit it deserves because i can put any two characters from the main 5 together in a pair and they'll have some interesting contrasts and points in common that they don't have with the others

[oschonseleven]

anyway now that I'm Normaler today

thinking about fiddling around with cidutha's relationship AGAIN bc I can't fuckin leave it alone :')

I'm just wondering if it being this undefined, friends with benefits thing going on for years, with all the yearning and things unsaid but heavily implied bc they're emotionally just not ready to put that weight on each other (something something both deeply traumatised by loved ones dying by circumstances out of their control something)

would suit the way the story plays out for Utha better and the way I see his priorities mapping out, rather than this strained long distance relationship where he has to make a lot of compromises that I don't think she'd be happy forcing on him, if it wasn't what he really wanted. Whereas if they're both on the same page, without the baggage of being Together Together...that feels more equitable but also still with room for pain :)

[teamhawkeye]

debating on whether or not to buy Stray while it's on sale now or not...