Ended up getting one of those balls as my lil trinket for being so brave about it because I do love miniatures. Fully knowing i wasn't going to get any of the ones i wanted, mind you.
And yeah, didn't get one of the Chosen Ones but it's not bad, it's pretty cute despite not being the pizza 😞
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🏚️ HAUNTS: A HAUNTED HOUSE ARTBOOK just launched on kickstarter for a second printing! 🏚️
50+ pages of haunted house illustrations, plus an essay on the allure of haunted houses, all in a beautiful full-color book!
back the campaign in the first 48 hours to get an early bird discount, and check out the additional rewards, including a new exclusive risograph print & limited slots for haunted house commissions!
(💖 reblogs are super appreciated to spread the word! 💖)
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Sometimes I feel sick because 7 million years ago a herd of a species of elephants that doesn't exist anymore took a walk and made footprints that just happened to stick around.
And I know about it. I can see the footprints. I can see that the younger ones ran off to splash in puddles together for a moment before rejoining the adults. I know about this simple mundane part of the life of a creature whose entire species came and went before mine existed.
If I ever win the lottery I want the John Brosio painting Two Earthlings to hang in my office so I can smoke weed, stare at it, and think about these kinds of things
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one of my favourite headcanons is that if he has a serious injury or in a great deal of pain he'll try to walk it off, not tell his friends and avoid getting help like he's allergic to it, but the SECOND something small happens thats it. he's dying, actually. his tummy hurts a little he becomes insufferable to be around. he stubs his toe on tails' workbench and he hobbles to the nearest chair and gives tails the most betrayed look
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it's the way they do things.
alex makes his step—a mumbled "hello", a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a peck on the mouth during their gig—and then retreats.
he lets miles process the move, and waits for him to follow up. an equally flustered greeting. a warm pat on the back, a delighted "oh what's that al?". lips chasing his own, the glaring lights more deafening than the screaming from below the stage.
it's how they dance. one step forward, one step back.
miles laughs a lot. the first time alex told him he loved him, shy as any boy can be, miles laughed heartily, and wrestled him to the ground. he laughed when they first kissed, too—an awkward, tipsy affair in france that ended up with them both more confused than anything.
"that was..."
"weird," miles agrees, and starts giggling uncontrollably. "let's not."
the next kiss is better. they're fully sober, for one, so no clacking of teeth as drunken limbs flail about. alex mentions france as a joke, and miles does indeed laugh again, but it's followed by a raised eyebrow.
"we're both good kissers now, aren't we, al?"
"be a shame if our reputation was tarnished."
"come on over and give us a kiss, so."
and alex does, and this time he keeps away from shark teeth, and miles tugs his hair playfully as they part, the way he does when the pressure around his bones gets too tight.
one step forward.
"it's just a bit odd, al."
"what is?"
"this. you've got your girl, i've got mine. we can't be doing much of this now."
this is sitting on alex's couch, halfway into each other's laps, arms and legs intertwined into a complex knot. there's a western playing on the telly, but neither of them is looking at it.
"oh. but it's not weird. to us."
miles shrugs, and looks alex deep in the eyes. "to us, nothing is."
and then he pushes him down, laughing all the way as his hands reach for alex's ticklish sides, and they barely even notice that they're no longer cuddling by the time their giggles quiet down.
one step back.
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Finally convinced myself to write one of these 🫣 Thank you @mmmichyyy for the @galladrabbles prompt
How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days
Mickey’s eyes are glued to the TV. His throat only burns ’cause of the whiskey.
He edges out of his doorway. Flits his gaze to Mandy, passed out on the couch, dried tears on her cheeks.
“You calling my bluff?” “You bet I am.”
He sneers. Swipes at his nose. Swallows.
He stumbles outside, no coat or shoes, the morning light too bright. Lurches to a stop on the sidewalk.
Wrong redhead. Not the one he wants.
“Ian?”
“Just missed him!” Debbie chirps, bustling past in a hurry.
Mickey nods. Swipes at his nose again. Shuts his eyes tight.
Fuck.
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