#stay safe and have a wonderful day!

[beetrootbug]

So maybe you can relax a little?

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

i've come back from my cave to support a friend here, @tide30 (bare with me, i just got back from a long trip)

Now i'm not in the owl house fandom, but my friend is. They recently made a post about how they disagree with a ship, not because of the ship inherently, but rather those who ship it, as they tend to be a bit weird about it. The ship in question was hunter x willow. Now as i stated, i have no connection to the owl house fandom, so i don't think it's appropriate for me to comment on the ship per say, but i wanted to talk more about how people reacted to my friend's statement. They were very adamant about the fact that they weren't hating and this was simply a criticism of the fandom, and yet those who liked the ship got really upset and excused them of being a "straight ship hater". Which, i don't think i really need to address how much of a reach this is? I think my friend has since deleted the post (and i don't blame them) but the post they made essentially proved their criticism of the fandom, that they were being weird about this ship. This is a reminder to all that if you come across criticism you absolutely can refute it, but you mustn't confuse it for hate, and i know that this is hard. But if it really made you that upset, just keep scrolling, please. The more you interact the more you shall receive, so try to stay away from it. Also, you could be hurting someone greatly through your reaction, so please keep that in mind if you do choose to comment. Also ALSO try to remember that a of people post here more so as a void to scream into, it doesn't justify if they've said something wrong, but it does in fact give context.

if you want my personal take: shipping is exhausting when it's in a fandom. And i try to stay away from it. I generally try to ship things as a joke, and as far as genuine ships go, i'll try to do that only for my ocs. Of course there are ship i end up actually being fond of, but it's always a hint of irony in there

Also i'm a raging ace aro, so that also has something to do with my certain dislike of shipping.

okay byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[comfortzonelol]

♠️

[tetzoro]

the day the earth stood still is the day i felt your presence leave it, and then every day after that.

[inkykeiji]

tomura’s the type to buy his princess a squishmellow but still get jealous over a stuffed animal lmao i love him

LITERALLYYYYY LMAO no he so is tho like 100%. he’d be like, begrudgingly excited about it at first; your favourite holiday is coming up, which means that the company just released their newest line of limited edition squishes, and you’re practically vibrating with desperation to own one.

the department store is busy, and you’re unbelievably indecisive, humming and hushing as you bounce from one stuffie, to the next, to the next, then back again, dragging him along with you.

with a furrowed brow and a steady stream of breathy grumbles, he’s trying to act so annoyed and so exasperated and so grumpy but you are just so fucking cute—eyes glittering and smile dazzling with one of your hands wrapped tightly around his wrist as the other reaches, fingers curling and vying in a little grabby hand that grasps at all of the different plushies, each procuring a sweet little gasp or giggle—that he just can’t quell the love tugging at the corners of his mouth or the adoration melting his glare or the fondness smoothing out his crunched forehead.

it‘s a treat to see you like this, innocent and authentic with buzzing excitement that thrums through your veins and radiates off your skin in delicate little droves, infectious as it seeps into his own and snuggles into his soul, warming his core. teeth sunk into your bottom lip, hesitancies are gnawed out in a self-conscious murmur, and tomura frowns, giving a little yank on your arm and scanning the toys warily. 

“i don’t understand what the problem is.”

“i just—i can’t decide! i want to get the best one, my favourite one, but i just—” turning towards him, your eyes are wide with worry, forehead creasing under the concern of making the wrong choice. “i want them all!” 

tomura sighs, rolls his eyes like you’re so silly, so stupid, but that fondness is back again, tender and warm and doting as it spreads unruly across his cheeks, ruby gaze syrupy with affection. 

“then i will get them all for you,” he says, simple and final.

and so, he does.

you’re still cute afterward, of course, when you’re cuddling one of the stupid things to your chest, palm rhythmically petting it’s tummy, or when you’re giggling and whispering to yourself as you hug it tighter to your sweet lil heart, lips spilling secrets and hopes and dreams into silky plush. but no matter how cute you are, tomura is unable to soothe the twinge in his chest as envy drags it’s claws slowly, steadily, almost gently down the inside of his ribcage. it’s never long before the sting becomes unbearable, before the sting has him ripping the dumb squishmallow from your hands and replacing it with himself, arms wrapped firmly around your form, your body pressed hard against his chest, lips grumbling low and rough into your hair about how he feels left out and he missed you and isn’t he a much better cuddle buddy than that foolish little stuffed animal?

of course, you’re telling him as soft palms stroke his forearms and sweet lips scatter precious kisses across his collarbone. of course he is; he always is, he always will be. 

and yet, despite all of it, he repeats this process every single time a new limited edition line-up is released that he’s sure you just have to own. because even though he dreads the bitter jealousy he knows will inevitably begin corroding his lungs the moment the two of you arrive home, it is nothing compared to the sunshine that pours from your smile when you gaze upon these silly little puffs of plush, or the bubbles of warmth that froth in your throat and out your mouth when you coddle one in your arms, or the look you give him when he gifts you another one, eyes overflowing with pure, unadulterated love, so much so it scalds his skin and singes his envy, snuffs out all of those acrid feelings and replaces them with a tender heat that glows pleasantly in your presence. 

and that, well, that will always be worth it. 

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[lotus-sunn]

sorry fellas for like being dead for the past idk 2 or prob a day now??? instead of lotus-sunn LOTUS IS TRAVELING THATS RIGHT FELLAS IM OUTTA MY ORGINAL STATE IM IN CHICAGO :0

[curvylizzie]

I can’t imagine what you’re going through at a time like this, but you’ve always struck me as a good person and you’ll have my support with whatever you decide to do from here on out.

In the past days I’ve seen a huge rise on misogyny and hate comments on my other socials, I’ve seen people like Nick Fuentes say “your body, my choice” which started a wave of incredibly hateful men going against my friends and me

But I’ve also seen women rise up and fight back.

Here’s the thing, I don’t see what I do here as degrading or against my morals and values, because everyone sells their body one way or another, I just do it on the internet, and before that I did it as a mechanic.

I see it as a way to cope with my own insecurities, and to show that I’m not afraid, and when I see people say to me that they’ve felt “inspired and wanting to be like me” it makes my heart happy, because I helped someone overcome something that they felt insecure for the longest time.

Will I leave eventually? Yes, everyone has to at some point… but I’m not leaving anytime soon, and watching good people, fight against the bad ones, it inspires me to keep going

In the words of Gandalf “some believe it is great power that holds evil in check, but that is not what I’ve found. I found that it is the small things. Everyday deeds by ordinary folks that keeps the darkness at bay”

[baeshijima]

sometimes u just need to write self-indulgent fluff while eating smth sweet to feel better

[good-beans]

*sets this bowl out on my porch with a sign that says Take One :)*

[whereismyhat5678]

TO @oddpizza

Currently I cannot draw right now but I hope you could still take this-

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 🎉🎊🎁🎈🎂 Hope all your wishes come true and to have the greatest day!!! 💞💗💕💖💓💘💝🩷

Have the BEST Birthday Odd!!!

[sunny-makes-doodles]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH GUYS DRAGON BALL IS STILL RUNNING RAMPANT IN MY HEAD

i recently got xenoverse 2 and all the dlc with it and played that bitch through like three times oh my god that game is wonderful. (i made what my and my friends joke is “dollar store shallot” since the hair doesn’t work lol) ((also via that obviously the legends trio is part of the time patrol duhhhhh))

fu shot up the list of my fav characters so fast its never been done before i was so shocked

(outside of the first image here) i only ever write/draw xv2 fu and hes like basically friends with the time patrol given how they treat him now LMAOO

anyway! i hope everyone has a wonderful pride month! i’ll try not to disappear for months on end haha

[pup-pee]

my father telling me how scared he was when i ran away from the house but i cant express how scared i was 2 b in the house

hey, whats up w/that?

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Taking a moment from the strike to say I'm changing the pinned post back to the Francine comic in light of recent issues with an apparent increase in transphobia. This is your reminder that this blog loves and supports transfolk of all kinds and any transphobes here can get fucking lost.

[kyrakyrakitty]

this is the funniest way to advertise your scam

[inkykeiji]

Clari! Hello i am back once again to ask you what is the "Dari" aesthetic?

Like what are the vibes, do you have any mood boards or anything? 👀👀

hi hi hi sunshine!!! <33 i have an obscenely embarrassing amount of photos saved that remind me of me + dabi but i am absolutely horrid at making moodboards so >.< i tried my best with this HAHAHA but visual aesthetic wise we’re very much that cliché girly girl x bad boy, pink and black type combo <33

i especially love the last photo because that girl looks scarily similar to me LMAOOOO like seriously

in terms of what it feels like: late night drives speeding way too fast through vacant city streets; empty diners at 3am; sharp knuckles and sharp collarbones; icy hands between warm thighs; giggles bouncing off the bark of dense forests; the dainty sound of pills clicking against plastic; warped hardwood floors and a stove with two working burners; dirty fingernails tearing through white lace; combat boots splashing in puddles on the asphalt; midnight double features at the rundown drive-in; hard candy clacking against teeth as sugary tongues force it from one mouth into another; love notes scrawled hastily on torn pieces of paper; scars in the shape of hands, his teeth, his name

[hasthereigenmangabeenanimatedyet]

December 25, 2023 | Day 259

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