#until one day it clicked:

[detransdamnation]

I'm still really upset about that post [AL] I wrote on educators telling students' parents about their dysphoria or transgender identity because this topic is really only a small part of a greater framework of how "parental rights" harm youth.

If abuse is most likely to be perpetrated by immediate family members, especially parents, that means that, speaking strictly statistically, parents are the least safe people to tell about a child's mental health struggles because they are most likely to use them to abuse them. Factor in that many youth who develop a mental illness in the first place have faced abuse at some point in their lives—and many are subsequently abused, mistreated, or neglected after said mental illness develops—and this becomes even more dire because the root of these teens' mental illness and the unhealthy behaviours which arise from them is significantly likely to have grown from the hands who feed them. "Mental illness is a product and reflection of our environment" is not only what so many of us espouse and incorporate into our belief systems but is also a relative, observable fact.

And yet, in response to teens who are struggling as a result, we operate as if this is completely untrue. And it's not only apparent in this aforementioned debate; it is apparent in this entire culture of conditional confidentiality wherein everything a minor shares with a psychologist or therapist or social worker is "just between us" but as soon as the teenager crosses a line, takes a step too far, expresses symptoms or develops coping mechanisms that are a little too close for comfort (or respectable politics), all of a sudden, it is no longer the professional's job to help and support the teenager but the parents' right to know about the teenager's struggles because it is the parents' job to keep them safe, always assuming but almost never confirming that the parents ever actually cared about what a parent "should" do. There is never consideration that the parents are the reason why the teenager is unwell, why the teenager is unsafe to themselves in the first place, and that telling the parents about the teenager's mental state could do even more harm than whatever harm the teenager is posing to themselves at the time.

And this is something that the most vulnerable are often most painfully aware of. I saw several therapists over the course of my teenhood and none of them had any idea why I was in therapy because I never talked about anything that I actually needed to talk about. I couldn't have. My confessions would have entailed a lawful breach of confidentiality to the very people who had fucked me up in the first place. This implement to supposedly "keep me safe" only ever ensured that I stayed silent. Silence was literally my only safe option—and unhealthy, unsafe communities, for most of my life, the only places I could confide in because the only ones who did not just parrot an empty "Talk to your parents or another adult you trust!" were other abused and mentally ill teens who needed just as much help as I did, yet were failed just as much as I was.

This is why I find it so gobsmacking when "mental health advocates" center openness with parents, or (in this case) when gender-criticals claim they want to protect dysphoric youth whilst also blindly advocating for parental inclusion in every nitty gritty detail of the child's mental health experience, or even when therapists claim to be creating a "safe space" for teenagers at all, period—because how can a space or a person be "safe" when we actively cater to the wishes of potentially unsafe people? When we are legally mandated, some of us, to do so? The message being communicated in this practice and belief system is, "You have the right to discretion until you are too mentally ill"—and if a mentally ill person feels like they have to toe a fine line, walk on eggshells, dumb down their feelings or experiences just so that whistles aren't blown to their abusers, the practice and belief system is set up for the abuser to benefit, whether deliberately or incidentally.

People cannot heal when they cannot even feel, or express what they are feeling, freely. By pushing for the rights of the parent to be considered above all else, we create an environment where youth cannot do any of this. We cannot claim to be supporting (or even caring about) this population at all when we play a direct role in why they are so vulnerable in the first place. Abuse victims—and especially abused youth—are way too often redirected back to their abuse by the very people who are supposed to help them grow from it under this idea that parents have an innate right of disclosure just by virtue of being a parent.

[ruvigapo]

Run boy run!! The sex monsters eat salmon!!

In which i arrive Fashionably Late to the fishssek party

[anotherpapercut]

I've seen a few posts of people from varying us states saying "why is no one talking about x new anti LGBTQ+ bill/law in my state?" and I need you guys to know that unfortunately part of the reason you're not hearing much about your specific state is that it's not just your state. there are currently 321 anti LGBTQ+ bills in the us

you'll notice that several of these states have more than 10. Missouri and Oklahoma have 31 and 34 respectively. and some of these have already passed or are well on their way. living here has become exponentially more terrifying. and even people in states with 0 bills should be worried because they are absolutely not going to stop at state level legislation, the next step is federal law. it's really time for everyone in the us to be vigilant right now. connect with people in your community and start or get involved in movements for change, starting on a very small local level. I know it gets really discouraging looking at maps like this. you're probably not going to be able to help everyone in every state, but you might be able to make a big difference with your local community

[xxplastic-cubexx]

the way u tuck charles hair behind his ear like a dainty elf princess whenever u draw him sends me every time, i know erik would agree 🙏🏻

i fear im adopting 'dainty elf princess' into my vocabulary here on out thank you for this wonderful gift anon

might you accept my small gift in turn ... i was inspired ...

[amphibianaday]

day 1677

[zilabee]

[introspectivememories]

do you ever think about how marco is one of the last people who knows how close shanks and buggy once were? do you think he ever looks at shanks and instinctively searches for buggy? i bet you marco looks at shanks surrounded by his crew and still thinks that shanks looks lonely. because back then, you could never find one without the other. if you insulted shanks, you insulted buggy and vice versa. they were attached at the hip. if you got one of them alone, you better savor it because in the next five minutes, the other one would come find them. like in my heart i know every time marco sees shanks these days all he thinks is where's the rest of you?

[apotelesmaa]

I think tsukasa is a normie sorry. He does not know memes or internet trends he’s too busy scouring the internet for bootleg theatre productions and practicing facial expressions in the mirror. Guy who could tell you everything you need to know about some obscure actor/play from 100 years ago but does not know a single modern celebrity if they’re not involved in acting. He’s adding new poses to his vast repertoire he is not making banger posts online. “Based? Based on what?” Type of guy.

[thatturtleleon]

kind of loving megop rn...

i've literally never considered liking this ship but there's so many amazing artists and writers on here that've convinced me to love it

[jnple]

It had never seemed necessary for Papyrus and I to nail down an exact meeting place. “At the park” was always enough for the two of us to find each other. And today, we found each other at the top of the white columned stairs. Well. I guess technically I found him.

It really seemed like he’d been waiting in that exact spot, knowing I was going to be walking that way. But he was watching in the wrong direction; his back turned to me as he waited, watching the stairs. Or maybe he was watching the fountain? Cool air wafted away from flowing water, which I could feel even from across this small plaza. He seemed like he was watching something. I slowed my pace, in order to get a good look at him before he could know that I was watching him.

He was sitting on the wall, leaning forward, with one foot propped up in front of him and the other flat on the ground. A half-eaten lime creamsicle was in his hand, his arm lazily draped over his raised knee.

I guess he must not have been waiting long at all, since he still had popsicle left. As if he was aware of my thoughts, he took a big bite right as I considered it. The wind blew more cool air our way, and ruffled the collar of his too-large shirt and the tall grass on the other side of the wall. I considered, just for a moment, that maybe I should stop walking altogether--just long enough to snap a photo of the picturesqueness of it all. He looked so thoughtful and serious, gazing out towards the lake. Juxtaposed with a popsicle full of lopsided bite marks, this scene was a perfect encapsulation of the monster that was Papyrus.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the guts. I didn’t even have the guts to disturb what looked like a satisfying reverie by calling out or otherwise making my presence known. Instead I awkwardly shuffled up to his side and moved to place my hand on his shoulder, but then second-guessed myself and thought, maybe I should tap it instead? It didn’t matter, since he startled and swiveled his head around before I could even decide.

“H...HEY!!” It was always fun to watch his face, and the clear progression of emotions that often played out. Right then it was shock at being approached by a stranger, which instantly gave way to shock at being approached by someone you love, which quickly melted into glee at having been tricked (with a hint of sheepishness for having been facing the wrong way).

“HEH, I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON YOUR WAY UP! WANT SOME?” The softened popsicle was extended towards me. Of course I wanted some, so I obliged him with a slurp that took care of a good half of what was left on the stick.

“..........” His disappointment was palpable, and my sudden guilt must have shown on my face too.

“WAIT, IT’S FINE. REALLY. I OFFERED IT TO YOU, SO...”

“Where’d you get that from, anyway? Do they sell those here??”

“THESE? THESE?? YOU KNOW THEY DON’T SELL THESE HERE! I HAD TO BRING IT WITH.” He gives a good slap to a bag I hadn’t noticed sitting next to him.

“.....They’ll melt.”

“THEY WON’T!”

“Hm. I didn’t know you had popsicle-cooling magic... Neat!” I reached down to the bag, eager for a popsicle of my own and curious about the cooling mechanism.

But the bag was swept away from my grasp, and Papyrus was shaking a finger at me. “YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO GO DIGGING IN MY MAGIC BAG.” He swung his leg over the wall, landing both feet firmly on the ground and standing up straight with an exaggerated gesture. “BUT I AM!” A bright red creamsicle was soon procured, unwrapped and thrust into my hands. I was suspicious of what sort of “magic” was keeping it cold, since it seemed to be already starting to soften, but couldn’t find the heart to complain about getting a treat.

Once Papyrus had started in on his second popsicle (orange this time), the two of us linked arms and began strolling towards the stairs overlooking the lake. From this vantage point, even more of the lake was visible, as well as the vague outline of paths surrounding it on the opposite side. This lake wasn’t particularly big, but it took almost half an hour to walk around a single lap. The paths were forested, at times so thickly that the lake couldn’t be seen, and that made them seem isolated, and longer than they really were. But all of it seemed so much smaller from up here even though it wasn’t that far away at all.

As we began making our way down the staircase, I bit the popsicle with my lips over my teeth then slurped up the melting ice cream inside. It cooled my face but warmed my heart. “You know, I didn’t even realize they still made these popsicles. I used to eat them a lot as a kid.”

“I, DON’T THINK THEY ACTUALLY DO?? YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT A PAIN I WENT THROUGH, TRYING TO FIND THEM!” 

On the lake there wasn’t much visible from here other than a few small paddle boats, but as we got closer I could make out groups of kayakers who seemed to drift effortlessly by.

“IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN THAT LONG AGO THEY WERE DISCONTINUED. I REMEMBER EATING THEM TOO, BACK WHEN THE BARRIER WAS FIRST BROKEN.”

In reality, I knew that the riders were having to work hard to propel their boats forward through the water. I’d never been kayaking, but it had always looked like fun to me. Stealing a glance over at Papyrus, who was still going on about the popsicles, I wondered if it could be a good way to work out together with him, fully expecting that he’d be excellent at it.

Suddenly I realized that my popsicle was gone. “Oh hey...can I have a green one now?” I waved my popsicle stick, licked mostly clean, in front of Papyrus and he grimaced. “It’s been so long since I had these, I forgot how much I liked ‘em.”

“YES, I KNEW YOU HAD EXCELLENT TASTE. OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO FETCH YOU A GREEN ONE. BUT I’M NOT YOUR TRASH COLLECTOR! AND IF YOU STICK THAT...THAT STICKY THING IN THE BAG YOU MIGHT-- RUIN THE MAGIC OR SOMETHING!” He made a shooing gesture at my stick, which only made me want to wave it in his face even more. “GO FIND A GARBAGE CAN!”

Seeing as there were no garbage cans nearby, I stuck the stick into my jeans pocket, much to Papyrus’s dismay. But he forgave me enough to serve me a green popsicle after all. This popsicle was suspiciously much softer than the last. “Hey.....you’re not using magic at all, are you?” I squinted at him as almost the entirety of the lime popsicle shell sloughed off in my mouth. “.....*gulp*. You just packed a ton of popsicles and counted on being able to finish them off before they melted.”

Papyrus seemed to be watching the boats on the lake quite intently now but surely he was aware of my accusatory stare out of the corner of his eye. His stern expression twitched with a grin. “I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."

"..........."

"BUT. I'LL ADMIT THAT IT’S A GOOD THING YOU’RE HERE, SO YOU CAN HELP ME EAT THEM ALL.”

“True. It’ll be a lot of work to finish them all before they melt.”

“WELL, DON’T GET ME WRONG! I COULD MANAGE IT.”

The path down the stairs was lined with shady trees, but the lake itself was surrounded by a sunny, open walkway. I had a feeling that no, he could not manage it. These popsicles were not going to last more than 10 minutes, tops. Even through our combined efforts, there would probably be a couple of melted treats. I slurped up most of the ice cream center as we walked across a platformed break in the stairs, eager to do my part either way. 

But as we stepped down onto the stairs again, I saw something that made me jump in alarm: a wedding party! And their cameras were pointed straight up the picturesque stairs, right at us! Without even thinking, I pulled Papyrus by our linked arms, running back up to the platform before turning off onto a small dirt path running diagonal to the stairs.

The air was heavy and quiet as I pondered whether or not I had photobombed that bride and groom’s photoshoot. Probably so. Even though I hadn’t noticed it until we were very near, that was only because I hadn’t been paying attention. The pictures probably had us there in the background, though it wouldn’t have been very close to the subject. It was a public park, so I couldn’t really feel guilty for it, but even still, I didn’t want to be in some stranger’s wedding photos.

“.......” I wasn’t exactly sure why but suddenly things felt clumsy and awkward. I didn’t know what to say, or whether to say anything, and the little bit of popsicle I had left was completely forgotten. Slowly I turned my eyes up towards Papyrus only to find him calmly nibbling on a new popsicle (a red one now) while looking back in the direction of the couple.

“........HM. YOU THINK....YOU MIGHT WANT TO DO THAT SOMETIME? ME AND YOU?”

My heart, pounding, leapt straight to my throat, blocking out any words or sounds from coming through, while my grip on the popsicle stick tightened. Was this a joke?

No...he was genuinely asking me for an answer, I realized, as he looked down, smiling at me expectantly. But he looked so laid back about it. Somehow, we must have been thinking of two different things.

“U..uh....I, I mean....um...ho-honestly, I’m, I-I’ve.......you know...it feels embarrassing somehow to b-be...honest...but....” My words got quieter as my face got hotter. I went to take a giant bite of the popsicle to cool down, but what had been left of it had already melted and ran down into my fist. 

“HANG ON....OH MY GOD......ARE YOU SCARED OF BEING OUT ON THE WATER???” His suddenly concerned face only confused me even more.

“WAAAAIT, WAIT WAIT WAIT...” Papyrus took a brief look around himself, which at first I took to mean that he was checking to see if anyone was around. But maybe he was looking for a place to hold his popsicle because the next thing he did was quickly suck the whole thing directly off the stick (swallowing it dutifully rather than savoring it, and tossing the stick to the ground), before placing his thick-gloved hands squarely on my shoulders, and leaning in close.

His worried frown was right in front of my face, much closer than it usually happened to be. I tried to listen to him instead of focusing on his features, but it was hard. I hadn’t had this chance to be so close before. His voice wasn’t...quiet... but, it was softer than I expected.

“IT’S OK TO BE SCARED OF THAT. PERFECTLY OK. DON’T....DON’T BE EMBARRASSED. WE DON’T HAVE TO--”

Suddenly everything clicked in my mind. Our eyes met. “To...go kayaking together....?”

“YES. EXACTLY. WE DON’T HAVE TO GO KAYAKING TOGETHER. I’VE NEVER DONE IT MYSELF, BUT....WELL...WHEN I SAW THOSE LITTLE BOATS ON THE BIG LAKE....” He smiled softly, sheepishly even. “I THOUGHT IT LOOKED LIKE FUN.”

Actually, it did sound fun. Really fun. I returned his smile, shyly, even though he didn’t seem to completely understand that look, and grasped his hand, pulling it to my chest confidingly.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be too scary....if we were together.”

Sorrowfully, Papyrus shook his head. “THE KAYAK IS A BOAT THAT ONLY FITS ONE PERSON, I’M AFRAID.”

“I meant. Together, in our own boats. Side by side on the water.”

“OH. SURE. YES! I’LL STICK RIGHT BY YOU!!” His grin was nothing short of triumphant.

Then he noticed my hand, clasping his.

“ ............YECCCK!! WHY ARE YOU SO STICKY?!?!?!”

[robotrightsactivist]

I know it's Film but I think in a timeline where it could be done well there would be an I Saw The TV Glow point-and-click adaptation

[froggielovescoffee]

Puts a tiny microphone to you

Any tips for rendering?

taps the little microphone

ermmmmm

the best advice i can offer you is to study anatomy, shapes, lighting, and color theory!

a lot of my improvement has come from studying both real life references and the works of artists i admire :) (shoutout to to impressionism, love that style)

to be honest tho, a lot of it is fucking around with random techniques and styles of rendering (AND SO MUCH PRACTICE HOLY SHIT) until something sticks

(for me, it was using textured brushes and mimicing painting techniques that stuck)

it may be frustrating at first, but i promise if you stick with it and keep practicing your brain will explode and then it will all suddenly make sense one day

i am so so far from a professional though—i have no idea what i’m doing man. i’m just throwing shit at canvas and hoping it looks nice /silly

OH ONE LAST THING (or two)

DO NOT BE AFRAID TO FUCK UP 🫵

DO IT BAD, DO IT MESSY, JUST KEEP MAKING ART YOU SILLY LITTLE GOOBER

[redbootsindoriath]

Fëanorian Week 2023, Day 3: Celegorm (and a horse)

“I’m not going to give Maglor an instrument” I said, “it would be too fragile” I said, and then I gave Celegorm a bow and arrows.  So we’re going to say that at least the arrows are bronze rods painted to resemble stone.

Also I’m pretty sure I haven’t drawn a horse in upwards of a year, so...yeah.  I apologize for the wonky structure and shading, especially on and behind the shoulders.

[peony-pearl]

@khoc-week - dreams

The encampment is quiet, save for the surrounding trills and squawks of unseen fauna hiding out in the woods and the snores from the pile of travelers all huddled up next to the embers of a dying campfire.

Mint rolls over unceremoniously as a contented snore rattles from her sinuses. Hollander's arm slaps over Magnifico's chest, both of them oblivious to the real world. The group is weary from a long week of roaming from world to world, trying to ensure they aren't caught by Maleficent. Now that it has been more than a day since seeing either her or Diablo, the team has found a sense of momentary peace.

But it still came with caution as Nimue sat propped against a large tree trunk, keeping close watch on her crew. Despite her heavy eyelids, she steeled herself and kept her mind occupied until dawn could relieve her of her duty.

Her eyes bounced from one person to the next, from Owen, who sleeps stick-still and silently with his hands folded over his stomach as he clutches his glasses; to Harle, who, if she had her way, would be sleeping in the trees. But due to the threats that followed them, she curled up with Chaos in her arms as his paws and tail twitched.

The only person not sleeping amongst the team was Merlock, who rested nearby as he mirrored Nimue, leaning against the treetrunk, not making any sound as he slept.

Nimue had learned how to gauge when Merlock was truly asleep; her sense of magic would buzz with activity as his powers loosened up in slumber. She could tell he was still wearing his talisman, which was a source of his heightened abilities.

Nimue sighed and looked up to the tree canopy, which blocked the view of the stars. While it meant security, she hated that she couldn't see the dotted diamond sky. The universal tapestry that was laid out above them that she so often craned up to look at as a child, and then as a keyblade master going out on missions, wondering if her loved ones were looking at the same stars as her.

She often looked for one particular star that her father, Knoll, told her about as a child. It was rumored to have been a living star, and one that fell from the heavens at the callings of a troubled girl who loved her city and people so much that her heart reached it from millions of miles away.

When Nimue found herself feeling lonesome or homesick, she would take the time to pinpoint where the star was in the sky, and once she did, she felt like she had found her feet again. Like she found the direction she needed to go in.

... It had been a long time since she truly felt the need to do that; as when she had met Yen Sid and became involved in him, he filled the negative space around her with calm, assured words and a bright heart.

He would smile at her, with his stars and moon motif glistening in his robes and amor.

She could remember dragging a gentle claw across the silken embroidery of his clothing, how each stitched star had special, magical beads sewn into their design. Her frantic heart and rapid pulse would ease in the presence of his light as he silently guided and grounded her.

He was her own star, helping her maintain her direction.

Why didn't it last?

His guiding light became searing, like the sun; Burning and scorching in a rage against her as he demanded to know how she could betray him. How she could betray her mother and father and her town. How she could turn her back on everyone and everything that had loved her.

Merlock awoke at the sound of a voice, and shuffling nearby.

"Wrong... You're wrong..."

Nimue's voice warbled through the still silence of the night that was just about to become dawn.

A darkness in the sky that Nimue remembered as Yen Sid destroyed the darkness she'd cultivated from her own heart; but in an effort to protect everyone, the darkness simply attached itself back to Nimue through her rage. It was a blinding, red hot rage that rivaled his searing light. Her screams were sirens, alerting the world to her blood-boiling anger at Yen Sid's betrayal.

Until the sight of her beloved home being ravaged was all she could see.

Until the sight of her mother reaching out for her hand became everything on her mind. How she tried so hard to reach her, how her mother's agony was so palpable as they held tight to light fixtures amongst the wreckage of the town and the darkness swallowed the city.

Estelle's voice crying out for her daughter was the last voice Nimue heard for thirty years.

Until Merlock's voice reached her ears.

"Nimue! Wake up!"

Gasping as large hands jostled her shoulders, Nimue opened her eyes. She felt as though she had been freefalling and her stomach was crashing back down to earth.

Merlock hovered over her as she leaned forward, placing her head in her hands as she gathered her bearings.

"... I'm sorry; I fell asleep," she croaked, not looking up at the stern face she knew the sorcerer was wearing.

Yet despite his usual severe scowl, it was worn with a mixture of tired patience.

"Hmph... perhaps I should take over," he offered gruffly. Nimue shook her head vigorously.

"No, no... I'm fine now." She lied. "I'm fine. Just a lapse."

She wasn't expecting one of his large, clawed hands to reach forward and press against her forehead.

"I said I'm fine," She insisted.

"You're burning up."

"Just some bad dreams."

Merlock listened, but still didn't move too far. He sat beside her against the tree trunk, both of them listening to the sounds of the forest. His eyes shifted as he watched her clutch at her chest. He frowned, but remained still.

He remembered finding her in the Realm of Darkness, with light shining within her like a beacon; like a lighthouse for those lost at sea.

He had no need for beacons or lighthouses. The only thing he needed was her skills to take down Yen Sid and to keep Maleficent from destroying him.

"So tell me," Merlock rumbled quietly; he could see Nimue's ears twitch as she listened. "Who was wrong?"

Slipping her head from her hand, Nimue looked back to him, her large golden eyes like saucers. Her clawed hands dug into the thick fabric of her pants.

"... Him. Yen Sid. When he found out about my research. He told me nothing good could come from it. That I was... that I was a violation of the order." She scoffed. "I was a violation because I wanted to understand the darkness! I didn't want to run from it! He treated me like a criminal for deciding I wanted to walk side by side with something so natural! He would rather cower and sit in his light and morals than be seen as anything but perfect."

Nimue looked to Merlock, her eyes intense.

"And yet, to stand so close to the light means creating a shadow as big as that light. And I won't cower."

Merlock's gaze didn't flinch.

"Even if that darkness threatens to swallow the light you have?"

Nimue smiled. "Thirty years in darkness and I'm still here, aren't I?"

"... Indeed," Merlock smiled. He noted Nimue fold back in on herself. "You should get some more rest."

Nimue shook her head.

Merlock huffed. He leaned towards her and, taking her shoulders, rested her against the tree trunk before placing his palm against her forehead.

"Close your eyes."

Nimue blinked; she looked up towards him, unsure at first. He was not a being of generous gestures, so she eyed him critically.

"I need you to trust me," he growled.

Nimue nodded, and she closed her eyes. From the space between Merlock's palm and her forehead, a spark of light glimmered.

He never liked using light-based magic; it felt like burning, like touching jagged rocks that had been baking in the sun.

He made a small exception this once. He asked her to close her eyes, not to fall asleep, but so she didn't see the crystalline rays of light snaking up his arm as she fell into slumber.

A rare favor he offered for very few.

The birdsong was jovial and exciting; the sunlight that filtered through the leaves turned the world into a golden, glittering paradise as Nimue awoke under her favorite tree by the brook. She could hear voices from the villagers in the distance, the laughter of children, and the clattering from carriages traveling across bridges.

She felt full and whole, like the light in her heart wasn't a seething supernova, but a tender hearth holding tight to a crackling fire she used to roast marshmallows over. She rolled over onto her side and smelled the sweet grass and wildflowers.

"Nimue!"

Nimue's eyes opened and she sat up to find her mother jogging forward, picnic basket in hand as she waved to her daughter.

...............................................

"Is Nim okay?"

From up ahead, Mint looked back towards Merlock, who watched the team from the rear, with Nimue in his arms as they traveled under clear, sunny skies.

"She's fine. Just tired."

Merlock looked down at Nimue, who, in her slumber, smiled and leaned into his frame with a contented sigh.

And a light that didn't feel like sun baked rocks pricked in his chest.

[skeletalheartattack]

im showing my friend clanker the awesome six eggs and single ice key i found today

[astralprisms]

You can't take these two anywhere