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#I'll reblog with more later
mustlovesteve · 8 months
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thanks so much to @toktopus-art for this awesome commission that she drew! based on a scene from my vamp!eddie steddie fic.
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deoidesign · 23 days
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FUCK-
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anglerflsh · 2 years
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redrawing Terrace's art again
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autisticsonic · 17 days
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Shard the Metal Sonic Android, also know as: "The Silly"
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flowercrowngods · 11 months
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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)
day 07: free space a happy ending
Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch. 
But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.” 
Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch. 
“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream. 
Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.” 
It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet. 
“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.
The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave. 
But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now. 
Remembering the words. 
What are you doing? 
Changing the world. 
So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does. 
Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is. 
His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse. 
It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin. 
Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside. 
"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."
He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up. 
Everything. You're everything. 
He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin. 
"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."
You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise. 
Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody. 
"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."
When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is. 
He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second. 
The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers. 
"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“ 
"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."
"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too." 
"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror. 
They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love. 
Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie. 
I love you. 
~*~
It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days. 
It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie. 
And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now. 
Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs. 
Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient. 
~*~
Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other. 
Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie. 
Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord. 
"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."
Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it." 
And so they do. 
Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means." 
Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."
There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them. 
You know, I always figured it would be you. 
No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.
It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be. 
"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too." 
"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked. 
"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys." 
And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his. 
"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!" 
"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time. 
When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile. 
~*~
It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you. 
It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.
It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression. 
"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.
"Yeah, baby?" 
Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.
"I love you." 
"Hmm. I love you more." 
No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?" 
He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers. 
And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask. 
It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future. 
And there are many, many more after this one.
🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷
tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13
god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay
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bananasmores · 2 months
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Donation commissions open!
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If you buy an ESim or donate $15 to a Gaza aid charity (especially this one) and send me proof through DM (+a ref if it's an OC), I'll draw for you! Pictures will be drawn like the example (with lineart and flat colors as opposed to painting, to keep it fast) $15 for one character, $10 for additional characters OCs are okay, canon characters are okay, shipping is okay, canon x oc is okay. Gore is okay (and will be posted under a cut) I won't draw childxadult ships or nsfw
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lookninjas · 11 days
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Had a hard time stopping myself from overthinking this one, but I think we're finally there:
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Pick a song from a bad description! You do not have to recognize any of the songs to vote. Just go by vibes. Pick whichever seems funniest to you. Or most relatable. Or whatever floats your yacht. At the end of the week, I will put all the songs in order from the song with the least amount of votes to the song with the most amount of votes, and share the playlist with you.
If you would like to hear the playlist when I'm done, leave a comment or put it in the tags of your reblog (or just write it in the reblog, whatever) and I will tag you when it's finished. If you're too curious and you just have to know about a song, send me an ask and I will answer.
Also, please reblog! The more votes I get, the less ties I get. (Usually. Last time we had three ties. Maybe all the descriptions were just that good, IDK.) But reblog it anyway. Inflict my weird music taste on your friends, followers, and mutuals. It'll be a good time.
Oh, and for those unfamiliar, let Get Smart! teach you how to frug.
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kipxan · 1 year
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context: i was playing clangen and kept trying to get these two cats to hate each other for Drama Purposes. instead, they randomly rolled to became mates and raised multiple adopted litters together. naturally, i fell in love.
here they are with their first litter :) the yellow cat is rustletwig, and the black cat is cragwhisker. they live in the underground clan CavernClan--cragwhisker is a tunneler and rustletwig grows herbs for the medicine cat, and their kits’ names are abysskit, jasperkit, and opalkit.
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Chasing It Down
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stiltonbasket · 8 months
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prompt: an au where wrh raises wwx, who is then forced to fight for the wens during the sunshot campaign.
“You are useless to me now,” Wen Ruohan says, contemplating his drink. “One little archer, one lucky shot—and my greatest hope after Wen Zhuliu has been ruined.”
The cup in his hand should have held wine: some of the clear, astringent liquor that Wen Qing favored, since it was a passable antiseptic in an emergency—but somehow, it had darkened to a deep, almost oily crimson, like the broth of the stewed lamb Wei Wuxian ate on the night before he rode out to Hejian.
He does not like to think of what his liege must be drinking now, and so he does not ask.
“Not useless,” Wei Wuxian says at last. “Wen Qing claims that a full bodily recovery—if it should take place at all—will come too late for this war effort, but I am still sound in mind. And that is at your service still, as much as it ever was.”
“That is some relief. I could have done without your mind, if I had your jindan and your strength; but since I am not to have either, your mind will have to do.”
Wei Wuxian nods, scarcely concealing the tremor in his fingers as he does so. When he arrived half a shichen ago, he was granted a chair instead of a patch of floor to kneel on, out of respect for his battle wound; but drawing breath in Wen Ruohan’s presence has never been easy, in spite of the fact that the man would likely rather cut off his own right hand than harm him, and the Lan-made poison eating away at Wei Wuxian’s veins has only made matters worse.
“Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian blinks. “My lord.”
“That concubine of yours, the one that serves you on the battlefield—what is his name?”
His heart stutters in his chest. “Yu Zhenhong, junshang. I have only two, and Yu-shi is the only man.”
“He should have thrown himself before that arrow, rather than suffer any risk to you,” Wen Ruohan snarls, dashing the white-jade cup upon the tiled ground at his feet. “He is a man, and all he can do for the continuation of your line is to ensure the continuation of your life—and if the arrow struck true, and you had been slain, who would have taught your yiniang’s child in your place?”
Painfully, Wei Wuxian lifts himself out of his chair and sinks to his knees on the floor.
“It was I who rode ahead of Yu-shi that day. The rest of the regiment would have come to harm, if he had followed me,” he says, bent so low that he can feel the coolness of the tiles on his forehead. “On his behalf—and on behalf of my yiniang, for Lady Li is close to her time, and any harm done to one of our household could injure her, or my child—I beg that you show him mercy.”
A sharp pain sparks under one of his fingers. He lifts it from the ground, and notes with dull surprise that his skin had been pierced by a shard of Wen Ruohan’s jade cup. 
Wen Ruohan pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Very well, then. I will not give him any corporal punishment, for the sake of your yiniang’s peace of mind. But he must be punished somehow, and you are far too soft-hearted to do it properly.”
“My lord—”
“He is your favorite, is he not?” Wen Ruohan says idly. “You care for Li Shuai, and surround her with all the luxuries a man of your rank can afford. But Yu Zhenhong is the one who follows you to battle, the one you take into your confidence; so must he not be the one closest to your heart?”
“Yes.” The word feels like whetted steel on his tongue.
“Good,” his liege says, smiling. “Yu-shi has forgotten where he stands; and so, he must be reminded. He is not your husband—will never be your husband, for in all these years I have found no man or maiden worthy of being joined with you in marriage—but I think it would break his heart if I were to gift you another concubine. He tolerates Li-yiniang, because she can give you children, but if you were to take in another man...”
Wei Wuxian thinks wretchedly of the night Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong came to his manor in the Nightless City, having run so long that Yu Zhenhong’s feet were bleeding, and begged for shelter: any way you can grant it, Yu Zhenhong had said, swaying on his injured feet as he supported Li Shuai. Any way, Wei-jiangjun—Brother Wei—A-Shuai can travel no further, I beg of you—
“May Wen-zongzhu’s will be done. I accept,” Wei Wuxian murmurs aloud, lifting his head to look Wen Ruohan in the eye. “Who is it to be?”
Wen Ruohan waves a dismissive hand.
“I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow,” he says, with a grin that makes his too-long front teeth shimmer in the yellow lamplight. “But you need not fear for your own sake, Wei-jiangjun. After all, your Yu-shi could not rival this one for beauty if he tried for the rest of his life.”
_____
“A concubine? For Wei-jiangjun? Has Father lost his mind?”
Two figures in red were standing in the dungeons of the Sun Palace, by the very last cell in the deepest of the six underground keeps. Its lone inhabitant had been languishing there for a month, not permitted to set foot outside his prison save when he was dragged to the torture chambers; and even when the tendons in his legs were slashed, some twelve days earlier, he remained so impassive that the head torturer began to wonder if he could feel the pain at all.
Wen Xu lifts his torch and examines the prisoner. 
“I suppose he’s good-looking enough,” he shrugs, suppressing a shiver as the torchlight moves over Lan Wangji’s unblinking eyes. “His nephew was the archer who brought General Wei down at Hejian, so Fuqin must think that marrying Lan Wangji to Wei-jiangjun is a fitting punishment—for the uncle and nephew both.”
In the shadows of the cell, Lan Wangji’s bloodied hands curl over a splinter of stone he had torn away from the walls. 
He has been shaping it for the last fortnight, filing it against the reinforced rock of the floor until the top end had been ground to a razor-sharp point. Before his legs were broken, he intended to use it to pick the lock of his cell door and escape, but now...
“Tian ah,” Wen Chao whispers, apparently under the impression that Lan Wangji was in a meditative trance, and thus unable to hear him. “I don’t fancy Lan Wangji’s chances in the Wei-fu. Wei-jiangjun was furious when Wen Qing found out about the poison in his jindan.”
But now his escape had been planned for him. 
Lan Wangji’s grasp on the splinter grows tighter. 
“When will it be?” asks Wen Chao.
“Three days from now.”
Three days. 
Lan Wangji looks up at the ceiling of his cell, and then down at the sharp piece of rock in his palm. 
He has crossed paths with General Wei only twice: once in the Cloud Recesses twenty years previously, when the young Wei-jiangjun attended Lan Qiren’s summer lecture courses, and then again on the battleground in Hejian where he was taken prisoner thirty days ago. 
Until that fateful battle, he could not have picked General Wei out of a crowd if his life depended on it: but that night, Lan Wangji dreams of a hauntingly lovely face lost in sleep mere inches away from his own, and the trembling of his hands as his makeshift knife plunges into his bridegroom’s throat.
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purrassicjet · 4 days
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Sandra Lynn wishlist for her extra screen time next week(s?):
- Battle mini! Please fight in the Mountains of Choas! Maybe even a Baxter mini! She doesn't have one yet please!
- Ranger stuff!! Let's learn more about Solesian Rangers!! Brennan please I know you have cool world-building!!
- Goes apeshit if Fig gets hurt. She deserves to protect her daughter for a while. She's done being nice, she deserves to go apeshit
- SPEAKING OF GOING APESHIT: fights Bobby Dawn. Even like, an argument. I want him to try to approach her and her stop him in his tracks. I want her to chew him out for what he did to her. Get your justice queen. Ruin his life back.
- Teaches the Bad Kids Ranger stuff. Like when she taught Adaine how to make a tent. Let her teach them how to survive in the wild you know she wants to
- More moments with Jawbone. Even the little bits like we got earlier in the season. Moments like "Don't let those bastards push you around".
- Her trauma from her own mouth. This is probably the most likely to happen. When Fig (please) asks about Bobby Dawn, I want to hear what happened from her own mouth.
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inktho · 1 year
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lifetaker
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squishosaur · 1 year
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first year heart stickers !!!
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transmasc-rose · 4 days
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I like Rose, and I think they should have done more with the Bad Wolf event. So here's a small list of related AUs that have been rattling around in my head.
Feel free to use them for whatever, I'd love to see if you write something tho!
Becoming Bad Wolf, absorbing the Time Vortex and using its powers effects Rose beyond that one moment. Merely absorbing it long enough to expel the power was enough to cause Nine to regenerate, and Rose used its power for an extended period. Time travelling on its own is enough to change the body, the cells, the aging process. Being around enough Time Lords effects the aging process. So when you absorb the vortex into yourself, become it for an extended moment, make someone else immortal in a way no one else is, who's to say it doesn't effect you too? And when you leave with Tentoo, the human Doctor, the mortal Doctor, and you think--we're going to live together, we're going to die together. And the original Doctor thinks--this is for the best. I won't get more attached, I will lose her on my terms, they'll live what I can't have. But the Doctor ages. And Rose doesn't, whether she can regenerate, or lives in a single timeless body. Not like Jack, she can die, but her Doctor dies first. The Doctor lives the life of the Companion, and Rose lives the tragedy of the Doctor. There's no evidence of Time Lords in Pete's World. Rose and Tentoo have a child in the comics. Does her child die before her too, or does she inherit her "gift"? Does she find her way back home? Is she angry? Is she scared? Is she alone?
Or maybe she's still immortal, but she doesn't leave--either she makes it out of Doomsday in her home dimension, or she refuses to make a choice in Journey's End and insists the original Doctor keep her and Tentoo. What matters is, she's there when Ten regenerates into Eleven. She's there when the TARDIS malfunctions, and decides to crash. And through some happenstance, whether separation while the TARDIS was crashing, splitting up for one reason or another, Prisoner Zero plot devices, or simply breaking the age old rule of "don't wander off", they get separated. And the Doctor leaves for "five minutes". Rose returns to the TARDIS, or thinks she's found the TARDIS, and its not there. At best she sees it leave, or it leaves some signature behind she can track with a device from Pete's World. She knows it was there. So she waits, as Amy waits, because if a universe apart wasn't enough to break her spirit then time travel isn't either. Learns the year, gets a job, maybe goes and does her A levels like she said she wanted to do that one time. Years pass. Does she keep in touch with Amelia, the only lead she has to the Doctor? Rose says she doesn't really like children in Fear Her, but she's tolerated them before. Another strange figure in Amy's life. A connection to her "Raggedy Doctor". And almost as strange, too. Because as the years pass, the five between Doomsday and The Eleventh Hour, and the 12-14 years Amy waits, she doesn't age a day over 19/20. Did she ever get an explanation from the Doctor about Jack, in this vague extra time she's been with him? About how he left him without warning or explanation? Does Jack tell her? Does she worry he left her too? As the days pass, does she worry that he could sense what she was becoming, and abandoned her like he abandoned him? Or did she never know, not even have that context, left hoping that the doctor would one day come back until she has to accept that this time, this might be it. Left to deal with this curse on her own. She was worried Ten would leave her when he got that face. Maybe Eleven did. ...and of course, Eleven returns, none the wiser, and Rose's face only "confirms" he'd barely been gone at all! Nothing to worry about! Right?
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We ALL love Yuki Tsunoda (Lando Norris in particular) 
(inspired by this twitter thread)
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scarapanna · 2 months
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Y'ALL I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER THIS WEIRD DETAIL FROM A DREAM I HAD TWO DAYS AGO AND NEED TO DOCUMENT IT/silly
So uh tldr, I dreamt that the golden triangles in Pure Vanilla's tapestry simbolized something important, specifically what the tip was pointing at and/or circling
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For example, if it would point outside of the circle it meant the most important thing was the people, while in another tapestry I dreamt about (Not being made in the vanilla kingdom, or with PV's feedback ig) the triangles circled and pointed at PV himself, meaning he was the object of most importance or knew something important that others didn't know.
From my understanding (and what I remember), the golden ring circled what had knowledge or some form of importance, and pointed at what had the bigger priority in the piece:
If it was something outside of the ring, it meant that that importance/knowledge/etc.. (Depending on the context) was shared from the source to the elements being pointed at
If it was the element circled it meant that that knowledge/importance/etc.. was being hidden from the outside and needed to come out
There were like, multiple tapesties with these as well from what I remember ig???
Anyway it's an hc now/silly
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