#you being tumblr devs

[aqueouserbium]

I swear to fucking god: I will leave this site in a heartbeat if you get rid of my chronological feed. I don't need to be here. I don't need to engage with social media to encounter content and creators I enjoy. Don't fuck this place up more by just making it a shit copy of all the other shitty sites that I'm trying to avoid by BEING HERE.

Because @staff is too cowardly…

[enthyrea]

let’s boogie

[front-facing-pokemon]

[lethality-of-dual-strike]

perirep drawings I also have on my Twitter - lil thing I’ve been working on and off where Dev wishes that Peri and Irep would switch places so they’d understand each other better, before everything derails into madness

really just an excuse to make fairy irep and anti-fairy peri teehee

[flecks-of-stardust]

wholeheartedly and with as much gentleness as possible, i truly think there needs to be more discussion about downpour in the community as it is now. for a variety of reasons.

[sparklepoint]

for @loveotomization and the art trade prompt silence/kiss/betrayal :3c

[boilercity]

Btw you guys can also find me on bluesky @ roswellian. Not antonblast exclusive, but since that's by far my biggest fixation these days, I'm sure you'll see a fair amount of it 👍

[cyberpunkboytoy]

My DID-having ass is experiencing so much world-envy for the fictional country of Vaugarde I'm going to throw up

[weirderscience]

once again i am recommending fedi/mastodon to all my followers. i personally hang out on the lethallava.land server but you can literally set up shop wherever you wish... the open web is your oyster... you can follow anyone anywhere....

(heres a written guide!)

[raineandsky]

This is a epilogue to a lil project of mine - loving titled Around the World in 80 Cafes :)

-

Crow arrives in the village, accidentally, under the cover of darkness. His client has made his rounds of the lands a lot more hurriedly than he’d expected, and the opportunity to get the hell away from him as soon as possible was not an opportunity lost on Crow.

“Everyone’s favourite mercenary’s back early,” the guard, Phive, comments from the walkway as he reaches the top of the ladder. Her job’s been rendered a little obsolete since Norveticus brought his family’s little empire to the ground, but she seems more than happy to stand here, with nothing to do, at one in the morning. “Good run?”

“Was a’ight.” He waves her off with a gruff laugh. “Pays just enough to deal with the nobility that comes with the job.”

Phive snorts, gesturing down the walkway with her spear. “Speakin’ of, I think your noble’s been anxious for you to get back. He’s been stress-bakin’ for, like, four days.”

Crow frowns suspiciously. “He's a cook, Phive. He doesn’t bake.”

“Exactly.” Phive grins. “You should get outta town more often. He’s good at it, and it’s usually me that gets first pick of whatever he’s makin’.”

Crow rolls his eyes as Phive laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He pauses in front of his house. It feels strange to think—his house. He spent so long flitting between the houses here in his youth; whoever had the space, had the energy for him. Now here he is, standing outside a house he can actually call home. It’s a strange feeling, and not one he hates.

It smells delicious inside, as always, and he can see what Phive was talking about. It’s definitely the aroma of baking—sweet, a little less intense than usual, and concerningly strong for one in the morning. He can see that the kitchen light’s on from here. He can’t be worried enough to be up at this time, surely.

The culprit of the smell is sitting on the kitchen counter. A cake of some sort, by the looks of it, but not one he’s seen before. The kitchen’s empty though, thankfully, so after a second to marvel at the treat he’s back on his way.

He doesn’t find Norveticus where he expected to; he’s neither in the kitchen or the bedroom, where Crow was mostly hoping he’d be, but instead in the living room. Crow comes across him on the sofa, his arm left hanging over the side and a book dropped heartlessly on the floor. He carefully picks the book up, giving it a onceover—it’s Norveticus’s own cookbook, nothing he hasn’t read a thousand times—before laying it on the table nearby.

He squats down near his face, simply content to admire Norveticus for a moment. He seems so peaceful like this, blissfully unbothered. The light from outside dances over his face, his hair a little ruffled from his obviously unintentional nap. He’s unfairly pretty, as always, and Crow didn’t realise how much he missed him until now.

He knows Norveticus will find something to worry about the moment he wakes up, so he just quietly takes in the view before giving him a light nudge.

Norveticus stirs, kind of. He clearly has no intention to wake up. “Angel,” Crow whispers.

Norveticus makes some halfhearted noise that sounds vaguely like “huh?”

Crow can’t help but laugh a little. He ghosts a hand over Norveticus’s face, his thumb brushing idly against his cheek as he finally opens his eyes. “I’m home, Norv.”

Norveticus stares at him in a blank half-squint for a long moment. Then it suddenly seems to click what he’s seeing—he bolts upright, his eyes wide, his mouth working to probably try and say several things at once.

“Hey,” Crow says plainly, an unavoidable grin working its way onto his face, and the single word seems to break Norveticus out of his stupor.

“Oh my god, Crow!” He throws his arms around Crow’s neck, half-dragging him onto the sofa with him. “You���re back—” Norveticus pulls away rather suddenly to hold him at arm’s length, a frown adorning his face. “… early.”

“Don’t worry,” he says quickly. “The job just finished earlier than we expected.”

Norveticus lets go of him quickly, a disappointed frown on his face. “But I had everything planned,” he whines. His gaze slides past Crow and to the kitchen. “I was going to do this big thing for when you came back. I was going to make that pie you said you liked, and I wanted to get you some flowers and I was going to get Hettie to make another cloak and—”

“Norv,” Crow interjects exasperatedly. He gently takes Norveticus’s face in his hands, like he needs some sense talking into him. “I don’t need a big thing. I came home because I wanted to be with you, okay?”

Norveticus huffs. “Can I at least still make the pie?”

“I’m not stopping you from making anything.” Crow snorts at the slight scowl on Norveticus’s face. “Phive tells me you’re a baker now, anyway.”

There’s a half second where Norveticus looks like he’s about to delve in to explain the exact things he’s been making—a common occurrence, and music to Crow’s ears—before he leaps out of Crow’s hold and to his feet.

“My cake!” he cries. Crow slowly gets back to his feet as Norveticus beelines for the kitchen. “God, I didn’t mean to go to sleep—it’s ruined.”

Crow lingers in the doorway as Norveticus flutters nervously over the perfectly fine-looking cake on the counter. “It looks a’ight to me,” he offers simply, “and it smells pretty good.”

“Smell and taste and entirely separate experiences, Scarlet Crow,” Norveticus says matter-of-factly. “It may smell like a god has made this, but I can assure you the texture will be absolutely vile. I was meant to put it in the ice box, like, two hours ago.”

“Did you seriously just drop my full mercenary name to explain food to me?”

“Yes,” he says flatly. He gives the cake a poke for good measure, his nose wrinkling slightly when it wobbles. “I am the culinary expert here, and I’m telling you that it will taste bad.”

“I don’t believe you.” Crow’s already rooting through the drawer for a fork. “You wanted to have something ready for when I got back, right? Let me try it.”

Norveticus seems to go through the five stages of grief in half a second. “Crow, I wanted to have something edible for when you got back. This will probably kill you.”

“I’d like to see it try.” He reaches for the cake, only stopped when Norveticus tries to block him. Crow tries to nudge him out the way but he’s goddamn stubborn. Nothing particularly new. 

Norveticus grabs his arm to try and stop him and Crow wriggles theatrically in his grip, making another stab for his prize.

“Crow!” Norveticus yelps with a laugh. “Stop!”

The two of them wrestle for a moment before Crow finally manages to tear a bit of cake with his fork. Norveticus notices a second too late, and Crow shoves it in his mouth before the other can stop him.

For a moment, all Crow can feel is victory. Then surprise. Then overwhelming disappointment. Then, like the cherry on top of the cake, acute defeat.

Norveticus watches this cycle of emotions blankly, like he was expecting nothing less.

It takes Crow a second too long to talk around the dough sticking to the roof of his mouth. “It’s… it’s really good,” he chokes out.

“You’re a horrendous liar, Crow.”

“Divine.”

“You’ve never called anything divine in your life.”

Keeping his face passive is almost impossible with the cake practically attacking him from the inside. Norveticus was, tragically, right—the dough clumps and glues to anything it touches. The taste wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t burning itself into every inch in his mouth. 

He swallows it, finally, and it’s equally a relief to have it gone and abysmal going down.

“Welcome home,” Norveticus says flatly.

Crow hums a laugh, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Glad to be here, angel.”

Norveticus smiles pleasantly before a yawn forces its way through. Crow laughs lightly. “D’you wanna head back to bed?” he adds after a moment.

“Ugh, please.” Norveticus grabs his hand and drags him from the kitchen. “But only if you come to bed with me.”

Crow stops him in the doorway to the bedroom, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s short, sweet, frankly atrocious-tasting with that cake still lingering in his mouth—but it’s a kiss all the same, and Crow’s been craving one whether it tastes bad or not.

Norveticus pulls away from him after a moment, his eyes drifting over Crow’s face for a moment. “I missed you,” he whispers into the quiet.

Crow sighs contentedly. “And I missed you, angel.”

Norveticus smiles at that, and it’s so bright and warm that Crow might as well be staring into the brilliance of the sun. 

[asmo-cosmetics]

i am once again begging y'all to stop glorifying the nix hydra era

[elequinoa-world]

tbh lack of choices in datv is a bit disapointing but it was to be expected. i'm just happy that 1. our inquisitor shows up and is customizable and 2. their love interest is one of those choices cause boy if they forced me to have a solavellan default state world i'd go fucking feral

my inky is happy living a domestic life with dadwall okay you solavellans can keep the angsty stuff okay okay (im so worried something's going to happen to them let her be happy ffs) i don't care about solas one bit, i've made my peace with him being such a central character in datv, but i really don't want to have to fake such a special relationship with him because i really have no attachment to him at all

i'm also hoping onto the tinyest bit of hope that hawke still shows up as a surprise motherfuckers we lied AGAIN and the cc screen pops up when we're about to meet them but it's really copium yeah

[thatjellywalker]

Y'all I just had an epiphany

I'm like. Just one body

Not even in a pluralistic sense (still debating that!) but in terms of all of the stuff I'm trying to do I'm just one person with so much shit going on at once. It makes sense that it takes so long for me to get any of my work out there or organised

And honestly? I should be proud of myself that any of the things I'm working on actually get worked on in any capacity. It's incredible that any of my side projects can even happen amongst just. Life in general

[duskholland]

i’m the jokey baby

[destroyyaa]

Good gravy spacehey is really cool cause of all the customisability of the main pages and stuff but.... it feels like an armpit

[bardspeak]

This is Bug! She's the protag of a game I'd like to make someday. (I do intend to start working on it, but I'm learning html and css before C#..) Though she's a scamp, she's very kind and her journal is more like a scrapbook/sketchbook that develops throughout the game.