#that's really sad but also really cool though

[furioushoneymaple]

Here's a small Sonic headcannon list (with Sonadow highlighted in):

Amy: "Oh, it takes a lot for him to cry, but once Sonic starts crying, it's hard for him to stop crying. Yeah, he doesn't do it on purpose, but he bottles up so much inside him. You can always feel it, and it's rare for him to share..." (giving advice to Shadow)

It'd hard for Sonic to cry in front of people/fans/folks too. He will hide his face, run away, bury his face away, he'll do ANYTHING and everything to not be seen. To him, he internalized it so much as an issue/he has high standards for himself that he doesn't even realize. He doesn't want the folks or fans in his life to see him sad. He's always about having a good time, laughing/joking/smirking, and just being a happy guy being the best he can be.

Sonic is very mute in the morning, at least for a few hours (and this really catches Amy and Shadow off guard) ...

Shadow: "you'd think he's loud, hyper, obnoxious, or annoying in the morning, but he's quite calm, gentle, and kind" (he's talking/gossiping to Amy)

The morning is really Sonic's favorite time of day (his chest is the sun after all) and while Sonic is mute he still communicates through sign language. Overall, Sonic is a morning person and is also not a morning person.

Sonic has knowledge (and still learns/but has procrastinated with it) about robotics and machinery. And only when he took Tails under his wing as his big bro is where Tails found his fascination about robotics and machinery too. That's where Tails learned from Sonic about all the cool knowledge, tricks and skills. Every so often Sonic will gladly help test run any of Tails inventions. Sonic believes in him very much.

In a lot of the backgrounds, there's Sonic petting the closest wild life/kitten/pup he sees. He cares a lot about the critters around him, and more times than not when he's on a mission/depending on the levels of danger or urgency the mission is, he will and does get distracted by all the animals around him.

Sonic loves learning, and he has a lot of random facts and knowledge hidden inside his mind. Like when he spends time with Rouge, there was this one time where Sonic saw a few of her gems that she collected (stole) and he lists all the important facts about the gem, the rarity, the design, the history. Just for him to stop half way through, and then going back to what he was doing.

Shadow is the bigger spoon while cuddling. He needs to be able to defend against any dangers even when he's asleep/cuddling. He's always on edge/and when danger is eminent, he's hyper aware/focused/on alert. Like a cat at night. And only when he can relax or when he's not busy/working/fighting, he loves physical affection (not in public though, never in public), he just kind of sucks at giving physical affection back. But, he tries. His form of love that he gives to others is words of affirmation, it's gestures/like chores or tasks he does, and he gives meaningful gifts.

Shadow overall is a great listener, Sonic is a great yapper.

Sonic is a great cook, he has mad cooking skills, and no one knows because he prefers street vendors/homemade/someone else's cooking he supports and loves/enjoys food that he doesn't have make. But Ohhh but he SUCKS at baking. He was determined to cook better food for Tails while they were growing up.

Shadow is also pretty great at making food too. He'd do his best to make snacks/meals with Maria. With whatever food the ARK had, he'd do his best to make the best dishes with the bare minimum. So during the holidays Shadow would do his best to make food for his family too. And it's hard to say which is better at making food between Shadow and Sonic. Shadow does know how to bake though, so there's that, but Sonic really tries to bake. Baking hates him.

There's probably more headcannons in me head somewhere but, enjoy, byeeeee

[hyperions-light]

A home in life, a berth in death, a house of many mansions: the Necropolis fucks

Before the game came out the Necropolis was one of the top five places I was hoping they would let us visit in Thedas and I'm so thrilled it did not disappoint! The architecture, the atmosphere is impeccable, the reactivity everywhere (cleansing the Vault of the Beloved, the secret room that appears, the skeleton workers that begin cleaning different areas as the game progresses), the detail in everything. Did you know that in the room where you get the codex entry about the flesh-eating beetles, you can look down and see them running across the floor? Love it!

But the environment itself is only an aspect of what makes the Necropolis so much fun; the insight we finally get into Nevarran culture is possibly the most important thing that comes out of it. The only Nevarran we've really met before was Cassie (love her, she was not very informative, though), so to actually get to meet people who serve as stewards to one of the most sacred cultural rites is incredible and exactly what I wanted from this game. I loved discovering their unique perspective on magic, and how they handle their Templar Order.

It's also a fascinating lore point to discover that Emmrich can speak to the dead; we've never actually encountered a REAL ghost in DA, I don't think. There have been things which appeared to be pieces of once-living people, but it could always be explained by 1) weird magic causing them to live past their normal lifespan 2) a spirit acting as a dead person. Emmrich makes a distinction between speaking with real dead people and imbuing a once-living body/articulated skeleton with a spirit. This is so cool and interesting! And they've been doing this consistently and regularly, to talk to the late King Markus! All the magic applications in this game make the South seem so boring lol (but that's for another post).

And I love that the Necropolis itself is considered alive by the Watchers! It moves and rearranges its own configuration in accordance with some sort of unknown will; is it partially built inside the Fade? Is it imbued with magical energies, like Arlathan was? How old is it? Is the reason it functions this way because it's so old that it predates the separation of the Fade from the material world, or is it just that the Veil is thin there? Are the Lichlords the ones directing the Necropolis? How? So many interesting implications and questions brought up by just the building itself!

I think my favorite thing about the Necropolis and the Watchers, though, is how they present death. Most of the cultures that we've encountered so far in Thedas view death as a universally negative thing, but the Nevarrans celebrate its place in the cycle of existence. In the gardens, which are such a beautiful, peaceful location, there's a puzzle you can do where you have to turn on a series of meditation bells in a specific order to get into a treasure room; when you put together the poetry accompanying each bell in the correctly, they describe (metaphorically) the movement of a person through life and into death. It's such a gorgeous little detail, and I love the way the Necropolis is designed to encourage the player to think about death (it also folds in so neatly to Emmrich's personal plotline!), especially since it is so integral to the game as a whole (yet another different post).

Visiting Blackthorne Manor and picking up mementos in the Necropolis shows that, this death positivity is, in fact, a pervasive cultural attitude. Nevarrans believe that they have a duty to each other that persists after they die; that the body can keep being useful; that the living should honor the dead. It's such an interesting perspective that was missing from the DA series; people die all the time, and, of course, it's intended to make the player sad, but DA has never seriously discussed death, its implications, what it truly means or how it affects those left behind. They've never really made you sit and look at it as the player. There are some sad lines after Leandra dies in DA2, but it's mostly in the narrative to give Hawke a reason to hate blood magic and stuff. There's no funeral. There's a few lines from Gamlen, Hawke, and your companions, and then the game moves on. It's always like that; the game gives you a moment to be sad, and then it moves on. There's no mourning. But this game is partially about mourning! It's about people being gone, and it being too late; it insists you look at death and deal with it, and the Necropolis is the epitome of this.

The game asks the question over and over what you think the characters should do in response to their own losses, and the Necropolis represents are really interesting, nuanced, answer to that question. They're not gone; they're right there. They're still with you. You can go and visit them and celebrate who they were in a place that honors and cares for them, still. It's so beautiful and interesting and full of love, for the living and the dead.

I didn't even talk about Emmrich's plotline or the class differences in the Necropolis, or how everyone there is a weird goth nerd and I love it so much, but I think that's really the important point: the symbiosis. The living; the dead; the spirits; the corporeal, all finding a way to be together.

[storiesabouteli]

TellTales // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff) Part1 of 2.

prompt: It's a narration of how they are young and in a way they share differences, but they are in love. It takes place in a student environment (college) and continues with a car trip and in the next part reader meets the boys, the fic is just about how they feel about each other in the midst of everyday life and a relationship that is new. And although I commented on sexual relations, I did not describe the act itself, there is no smut. (This story is from my old blog, it's very old, and I decided to rewrite it)

words: 3K

You tiptoed your way through the bleachers, scanning the crowd for him. You hadn’t explicitly asked him to come, but you’d dropped enough hints to hope he’d show up. Deep down, you understood if he couldn’t make it, but the thought of him not being there still left a pang of sadness.

Either way, he’d be picking you up shortly after the game ended. You’d agreed to spend the weekend with some of his bandmates and their girlfriends. You recognized them from glimpses in the hallways and the gigs you’d attended, but meaningful interactions with them had been rare. You were aware of the reputation you’d unintentionally acquired in that social circle but didn’t let it bother you.

You hadn’t dated much in life. In fact, Elijah was the only person you’d ever been involved with—both emotionally and physically. While that choice sometimes stirred whispers or the occasional mean-spirited comment, it was clear that most people didn’t care, if anything, they just found it curious.

“How was last night?” your best friend asked, a knowing smirk on her face. Judging by your expression, she already suspected the answer.

“It was… great,” you admitted, the butterflies in your stomach still fluttering from the memory. Your hands felt clammy, and your nervous cheeks were impossible to hide.

“Was sex with Elijah really that good?” There was a teasing edge in her tone, but you couldn’t tell if it was genuine or sarcastic. You elbowed her, though the heat in your face only deepened.

“Did he take charge? Or was all the work left to you?” she continued, her grin widening. You rolled your eyes, but her playful jab stayed in your head longer than you’d care to admit.

Hiding your face in your hands, you realized she just wanted to embarrass you. Asking her to lower her voice, she laughed and agreed, though it was clear she expected more details. It was your first time with Eli, and you’d been nervous—something entirely unusual for you from her perspective. Naturally, she wanted to know everything.

You decided to keep most of it to yourself, knowing she’d get the picture. You settled on something simple: “He’s not shy, but in a good way. He’s... observant, and he made good use of that. He’s fine,” you said, biting your lip to contain a smile. But the memory of him holding you, the way his hands moved so assuredly, and the soft sighs and muffled moans you’d shared—it all came flooding back, making your heart crazy. You didn’t know how, but it had been intimate and irresistibly sexy, leaving you on the brink of tears from the overwhelming connection. You couldn’t wait to be with him again.

She nodded knowingly, her expression softening at your obvious happiness. “It’s nice that you have him. I’m glad for you. He seems like a great guy.”

Her words made you smile, but they also left you feeling a little unsettled. Eli was your complete opposite in so many ways. You had no doubts that he liked you, but the thought of him realizing how easily he could find someone better lingered in your mind.

You were popular, but it was something that had happened by accident rather than design. You didn’t care about it much, though you appreciated the “good girl” image that came with it. Eli, on the other hand, had a laid-back, effortlessly cool demeanor. He wasn’t concerned with appearances and didn’t seem to care about what others thought. Maybe that was something you needed to learn from him.

Even your interests didn’t align much, but so far, things had been going well.

Lost in your thoughts, your friend shook your shoulders, snapping you back to reality. She turned you toward the crowd, and her grin widened when she saw your face light up. There he was—his messy curls catching the light.

“Damn, you really got Hewson to come to a college game,” she teased.

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously. It wasn’t exactly his scene. The echoing cheers of the players and the squeals of the cheerleaders were likely grating to him, but there he was, leaning casually in the back corner. You tried not to let your nerves spiral as you wondered how he felt about all this, about you.

Before you could respond, you spotted him in the distance. Your heart skipped a beat. He looked serious, like he’d rather be anywhere else, and for a moment, doubt crept in. But then his eyes found yours. His expression softened, his hands in his jacket pockets, and his lips curled into a small smile.

You waved enthusiastically, and to your relief, he lit up, waving back just as excitedly. He brushed his hair back, standing still in that secluded spot, and blew you a kiss. A few people nearby noticed, and his cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t seem to care. Your Eli was there.

You threw him a kiss in return, and with his typical playful flair, he pretended to catch it, tucking it into his pocket. It was such a simple, teasing gesture, yet it made your heart swell. He might not love the setting, but he was there for you.

As you turned back to your position on the court, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him. He looked proud, as though being there and seeing you so happy made everything worth it.

The performance began, and you gave it your all—the dances, the spins, the choreography. A small part of you felt self-conscious, knowing he was watching. While you were sure he wouldn’t judge you, this wasn’t his thing, and you worried about what he thought.

But when your eyes found his again, there was no doubt. It was you. He was there because of you. And that was all that mattered.

The game ended, and as you and the girls announced the final score, thanking everyone for coming, your focus was already elsewhere. You didn’t even register who was speaking to you as you made your way toward Eli. His smile didn’t falter, and he opened his arms wide, waiting for you.

Instinctively, you ran into him, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you with ease, lifting you slightly off the ground as his arms tightened around you. Without hesitation, he adjusted your skirt, his hand lingering protectively to keep it in place. You had noticed this habit of his before, and though you found it sweet, you hadn’t told him yet that you always wore shorts underneath. You were sure he knew, but the gesture was heartwarming.

You buried your face in his hair, letting the softness of his curls surround you. He nuzzled into your neck in return, inhaling deeply as if to draw comfort from your scent. For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, while the noise and chaos of the game faded into the background.

When your feet touched the ground again, you lingered there, gazing at one another in a rare moment of silence. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth in his caramel eyes and the soft curve of his lips.

You took a small step further, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. It wasn’t tentative—it was the kind of kiss that spoke volumes, a mixture of longing and familiarity. You could taste the faint trace of gum on his tongue, a detail you’d remember fondly later. His hands trailed over your sides, light and deliberate, grounding you in the moment. He felt like calm, like home, and you melted into him, despite the murmurs and stares from the crowd.

The kiss ended quickly but left a deep impression. His hands stayed firmly on your waist, keeping you close, while your gaze was on his lips, too shy to meet his eyes just yet. He broke the silence with a soft kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, dotting your skin with gentle pecks that made you nervous. He always did this, and every time, it made you fall for him all over again.

“Sorry for being late,” he said, his voice low and apologetic. “Josh needed the car.” He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders in one smooth motion, pausing to kiss the top of your head. “Keep it—you look cold.”

You clutched the jacket tightly, enveloped by his warmth and the faint smell of him in the fabric. “I don’t mind,” you replied, light and genuine. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, intertwining your fingers. “I know this isn’t your favorite place, so it means a lot to me that you came tonight.”

Eli didn’t respond right away, his mind swirling with thoughts about the people around him, whom he saw as unremarkable, living to meet expectations rather than exploring life’s possibilities. It was an opinion he had once extended to you, long before he became enamored with the way you danced, your laugh ringing through the halls, and your quiet determination to pursue what you loved. Now, he saw you differently. You weren’t just going through the motions—you genuinely enjoyed being there, with your friends and your passions.

Such a realization had led him to fill your locker with letters—awkward yet heartfelt, each building the bridge to this very moment.

He rubbed his thumb over your palm, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ll be here as many times as necessary,” he murmured. “I like to see you happy.”

His words made your goofy smile return full force. He placed a hand gently on the small of your back, guiding you toward his car.

Eli’s ears were still flushed as he opened the door for you, and you couldn’t help but wish for more of that.

...

He sifted through his belongings, handpicking a few tapes and placing them on your lap. "Pick one," he said, anticipation lacing his voice.

You scanned the options before spotting a familiar purple cover. "Oh my God, it's Kate Bush!" you exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. It was surreal. Even as he kept his eyes on the road, his presence filled the small, borrowed car.

"Josh mentioned you were a fan," he said casually.

"And you went and got it for me?" you asked eagerly, pressing play without hesitation.

He nodded, watching your smile grow with every note.

Before he could say anything, you squealed and leaned over to kiss his cheek quickly, careful to avoid causing any accidents. Feeling at ease with him, you mimicked Kate’s vocals, exaggerating your facial expressions to match the drama of her delivery. He chuckled, thankful to Josh for tipping him off about the tape.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, lil' one," he murmured, his voice warm. Your enthusiasm for the lyrics matched his quiet contentment in seeing you well.

He didn’t know the words or the instrumentation but encouraged you to keep going, like your number-one fan.

"Did you know David Gilmour kind of discovered Kate Bush?" you asked between breaths.

"I’ve heard that somewhere," he replied, prompting you to share more. He liked Pink Floyd, you knew that.

"It’s like we’re all interconnected, isn’t it?" you mused, glancing at him solemnly before turning back to the road, tapping the melody out with your fingers. "I kind of like the thought of it."

"Yeah, it’s a nice thought," he agreed, his chest filling with a quiet warmth. Not ready to let the conversation fade, he added, "So, have you been checking out any of the bands I like?"

The world seemed to slow down for a moment. You noticed the softness in Eli’s features, a rare, relaxed smile that only appeared when he was with you. In other settings—classes, the cafeteria, gigs—he maintained his usual unbothered demeanor, some cool smiles yet nothing more, which you found charming, but this version of him was your favorite.

He placed his large hand gently on your thigh, not moving it but bringing you a sense of comfort. You fingered the rings and felt the more prominent veins on his skin. Smiling, you placed your hand over his, threading your fingers through his long ones. Even brief touches like this filled you with quiet joy.

"I have," you admitted, feeling a little shy. "I wanted to hear what you liked, and I found one I really enjoyed."

His eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, you feared he might crash the car. But Eli, ever grounded, kept things steady. "No way! You've reached Blackstar?"

The thing was, you already knew Bowie, of course, but Eli saw him through a unique lens. He had favorite albums and endless commentary about every track. After spending hours with you the night before, he’d gone home, obsessed with crafting a perfect playlist to introduce you to his idol. He never imagined you’d actually listen.

"I did," you confirmed, suppressing a laugh at his attempt to maintain his unbothered facade, though it failed to hide the goofy smile creeping onto his face.

You grinned and began to sing, “Just like that bluebird, oh, I’ll be free…” pretending to hold a microphone.

He smiled as if he’d just won the lottery. “Just like that bluebird, oh, I’ll be free. Ain’t that just like me…” he sang back, pouring affection into every note.

Bowie’s words felt like home, like the perfect bridge between you. Eli never spared feelings when it came to sharing his passions, not like that, not for any special one, even when he initially thought your differences might be too vast. He was starting to see the beauty in complementing perspectives.

You loved Bowie, though not quite as much as he did. And, much like him with Kate Bush, you were learning to appreciate the depth of the connection through each other’s eyes.

...

You were asleep, your hand resting on Eli's arm as he drove down the empty highway. He glanced at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched you sleep peacefully.

Suddenly, as if your mind had been waiting for it, you jolted awake, gasping for air and clutching your chest. Your body trembled as you struggled to catch your breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Eli said, his tone soothing as he reached over, gently rubbing your back. "Just take deep breaths with me, huh?"

You nodded, your eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry," you whispered, guilt heavy in your voice.

"Don't be sorry," Elijah said firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're not bothering me. I just want to make sure you're fine, babe. Are you good?"

Leaning back against the seat, you inhaled deeply, trying to calm yourself. "It's just...a nightmare. I get them sometimes, and they're always hard to shake off."

"I see," Elijah murmured. "I've been there with you before, remember?" His sweet smile softened his words as he squeezed your hand. And it was true-it wasn't the first time, and you didn't need to feel ashamed. "We'll get through this, okay?"

Pulling the car to the side of the road, he opened the windows and doors to let in the crisp, early morning air. You sat quietly, watching as the sky began to shift, the first rays of dawn painting the horizon with soft light.

"It's so nice, quite beautiful," you murmured, feeling an odd sense of peace settling over you. Small but present, a reminder that he didn’t see you as a problem to be dealt with.

Eli nodded. "Yeah, it is. Like you, when you're comfortable like this," he added, immediately regretting his words, fearing they might sound wrong.

You smiled warmly, your face heating at his unintended confession, making Eli relax. "Thank you."

He reached into the backseat and grabbed a comforter, draping it over you with care. He made sure you were snug and warm, his movements gentle as he tucked you in.

Stopping briefly, he stood silently by the car, watching you shift restlessly under the duvet. Your eyes stayed locked on him, steady and observant. Though your breathing had calmed, you didn't seem ready to sleep again.

"Do you want me to stay here until you sleep?" His voice carried a mix of awkwardness and worry.

"No," you said after a pause, your gaze lingering on his hands gripping the steering wheel and the way his lips were reddened from nervous biting. Your breath hitched faintly, betraying your unease. "Actually, we could stay here for a while." You loosened the duvet, the warmth of the moment overtaking your earlier chill.

He arched a brow, his features shadowed in the dim light. "Okay, but you feel good, right?”

"Yeah, just can't sleep," you admitted, your hand brushing over his shoulder and trailing to the back of his neck, seeking the comfort of his warmth. "Come closer. I want to feel you." You tugged him toward you, your words low and certain.

And Eli had that moment of realization, noticing how different you were from what others perceived, from the image they had built of you. He loved that—that this raw, genuine side of you was something only he had access to.

Eli hesitated for a second before leaning in, his nose brushing against your cheek. His lips met yours, soft and hesitant at first, contrasting with the sudden urgency in your touch. He melted into the seat, his hand naturally finding your waist as the kiss deepened.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. The darkness obscured his face, but you could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

"I like how you taste," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The warmth of his breath brushed your skin as you trailed kisses from his lips to his nose, playfully licking his parted mouth along the way.

Your laughter filled the car when you noticed how flustered he had become. You relished the effect you had on him, thinking about how you might use it to your advantage in the future.

Before Eli could lean in for another kiss, his usual lovesick expression plastered on his face, you leaned closer, your voice dropping to a mischievous whisper.

"I need a favor, if you don't mind.”

...

You stopped in a dark, desolate spot, your hand crazy with sweat as nerves took hold. Elijah could tell you were uneasy about being out in the middle of nowhere.

"El, I don’t want to be alone," you murmured, your voice drowsy but trembling with it all.

He didn’t question it, just as he didn’t even consider leaving you behind. Truthfully, he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of braving the rickety gas station alone either, even if it was just to relieve himself.

He nodded, his expression steady, trying to ease the tension in your own. The worry was etched across your face, and Elijah knew you tended to spiral into pessimistic thoughts in situations like this. He couldn’t begin to guess the scenarios playing out in your mind, but he was determined to dispel them.

"Look," he said quickly, color rushing to his cheeks and necks, "I’ll step outside, stay by the car, and just use the tree right here. I won’t go far, I won’t leave your sight, and I’ll shut the door so you’ll still feel safe. Just, uh… don’t look, y’know? That’d be awkward."

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as your hands fumbled for the radio, turning up the volume to drown out any sound from outside. It was a flimsy attempt to preserve the boundary of intimacy, even for something as brief and mundane as this. Still, you couldn’t deny his plan made sense, even if it left you feeling slightly on edge.

—

Part 2 will be posted soon! Promise!

[liatai]

okay I admit it took me a second to go like "oh like practicing medicine or being a medical examiner and not. like. practicing the stabbing murders"

one of my greatest pet peeves in fiction, and it is truly stupid I know, is that no one seems to understand how genuinely hard it is to kill someone via stabbing. stab wounds have a mortality rate of like 5%. especially abdominal stabbing. tv shows and movies show dudes getting stabbed one time in the lower abdomen with a tiny knife and then they fall over. like what did he die of precisely. that man died of Small Knife

[canisalbus]

So i remember an ask mentioning your mortal enemy, Felis Atra and their cats, and i thought it'd be fun to draw what Felis Atra's version of your italian dogs would be.

I think they would be called Butter Knife and Flamengo! Butter Knife is not his real name, it's an nickname given by his peers because of how harmless he is. I choose Flamengo because that's the name of Vasco's rival football team here in Brazil, so i thought that was the perfect name :)

Cat Machete was slightly inspired by the Oriental Shorthair cat because of their long noses and thin head shape.

Cat Vasco was inspired by the Scottish Fold cat, because FLOPPY EARS. I gave Flamengo longer ears and orange fur to make him more like his look-alike.

The last doodle is a reference to this ask (https://canisalbus.tumblr.com/post/728923918314946560/me-i-am-machete-ear-fan-number-1-those-ears) and contains the tumblr ask stand-in dog, whose cat version was inspired by the American Curl cat! They have round ears that are slightly floppy outwards.

Final notes: I know cardinal clothes don't come in vibrant blue, but i was ADAMANT on switching Machete's and Vasco's clothing color patterns. I would draw the rest of Butter Knife's and Flamengo's clothes, but i suck at designing cool outfits.

Speaking of outfits, for Machete's iconic void outfit, i figured it would be fun to make it more baggy for Butter Knife, in contrast to Machete's, that looks very tight-fitted. I think it's cute, it kinda looks like a sweater. Also i can't imagine a Machete doppelganger without high heels boots, so those HAD to stay.

Oh, and just to be clear, i'm not like, claiming ownership of these guys or anything. I just thought it would be a fun exercise. Hope you like them!! I love your art and your characters.

.

[faunandfloraas]

The Nobleman or 양반 (yangban): The smiling face represents the bluff and composure that an aristocrat is often known to have. The chin is a separate piece from the top of the mask, and the actors can lean forward and back to make the mask smile or frown as needed.

This monk who abandons his doctrines, or 취발이 (chwibari): Chwibari was originally a monk, but he had no intention of joining the monastic order, so he came down to the world and wanders. Represented with a forehead full of wrinkles and spots.

The widow or, 부네 (Punae/bune): represented to be a widow, or a kisaeng ( a woman who sang, danced, or played an instrument to provide entertainment for company at a drinking party), or a mistress of the Yangban. She has a very small mouth, round cheeks and forehead- giving a general look of happiness good-humor.

[rainbowangel110]

I've never been scared of a comic panel before, it's always been "Oh!" before moving on.

Castle Swimmer came in with a metal baseball bat.

[ribbononline]

Away from home for a week or two so im trying to relearn how to draw on iPad. And what better way then how I learned it all those years ago, ponies,

[steakout-05]

i might get some hate for this depending on where this post goes but i think lesboys are so valid and the discourse about them is so ridiculous. like you guys shouldn't have to deal with all that and it frustrates me that people throw hissy fits over an identity that literally does not affect them at all.

"but men cant be lesbians-" wrong. butch lesbians and trans men have a really closely connected history with each other that practically intersects and you should really do some research on that before you make blanket statements, not to mention that gender and sexuality is weird and wobbly and fluid and a very personal experience. it means a different thing to each person. being a man can be something completely different and saying stuff like this ignores people like demiboys, demigirls, genderfluid and genderflux people etc. these people will really preach "demolish the gender binary!! love is love!!" until someone's relationship with gender and sexuality is a little too freaky for them to handle and be challenged by lmaoo

"ohhh but what about the cishet men who say they're lesbians to prey on women-" YEAH WHAT ABOUT THEM????? THIS AIN'T ABOUT THEM BRO!!!!! this argument also REEKS of terfy "trans women are just predatory men!!!111!!1" rhetoric and it grosses me out. yeah some men are gross and do try to pull this but that does not negate someone's entire identity completely just because of a few bad actors, you know that right? actual black and white behaviour.

queer discourse is silly and i don't know why it's a thing. just let people exist. it isn't that hard. we have worse things to worry about than whether someone calls themselves a lesboy or not. i think we need to unplug our ears and yank our heads out of the sand and remember that the queer community is what it is because of our unique and amazing diversity. arguing over labels like school children isn't gonna help that. damn.

[finncakes]

:/

[buried-in-stardust]

Went to a hanfu tryout and fan painting event!

I tried on this Tang dynasty style hanfu, and although it was a bit too big for me and I could not get used to the sleeves (they kept getting caught on things), it was very fun!

I only wrote the date in the 干支 (ganzhi, 60 year cycle) format and my name (Feng **) because I wanted to write something but had no idea what to write. I was originally going to write in a more cursive style, but then I chickened out, so my writing looks like a little kid's here lmao.

(My phone camera's quality is shit, sorry)

[androgynouspenguinexpert]

"Whatever are we going to do about this boredom of yours?"

[checkadii]

Thinking about this old ass screenshot . I don’t even remember which video that’s under and I’m frankly too lazy to redownload tiktok

[butterflieswhisper]

tori sitting on the stairs is so. the lighting in heartstopper is awesome big fan of the blue/orange. is tori also depressed in the show i still think it would be so fucking funny to offhandedly mention her school burning down

[oozeandgoo-art]

[provincial-charmer]

Alright, it's late, but the mental spoons are certainly there for later! So I suppose I should ask ahead of time...