#don't feel like editing this rn

[wildflowercryptid]

dumping a bunch of meme edits at 4am like a well adjusted member of society. also debut of the bb!jules edit i made a while, but then never shared.

#some of these are actually older edits that i just never posted #also that edit w/ florian & arven is meant to be platonic don't get it twisted #i feel like florian becomes a very important member of arven's found family they're like siblings at this point #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #trainer juliana #trainer florian #trainer arven #rival nemona #team star penny #rival carmine #rival kieran #elite four drayton #elite four lacey #elite four crispin #champion geeta #elite four poppy #( i don't feel like putting all the mjv tags rn i'll do it later ) #my edits #mj.txt

[sqviid]

lucky - radiohead

#art #danagnronpa #danganronpa 2 #nagito komaeda #radiohead #silly sketchbook art #the crayon bandage was there before nagito was and i didn't even notice it until after #one my say my luck is crazy idk man #this is also unedited i don't feel like editing it rn

[lover-of-mine]

911 season 6 + "huh was that foreshadowing?"

#911edit #911 #911 on fox #911 fox #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #athena grant #hen wilson #flashing tw #my edit #this was what i could think off at the top of my head #i have not watched season 6 enough to have it memorized enough and i don't feel like watching the whole season with this purpose rn #maybe this will get a part 2 if i figure that one out lol #i literally just want this out of my head #911verse

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin venti #sagau impostor au #genshin angst #my attempt at imposter au cause why not #I didn't realize there was like no dialogue until editing whoops #kind of set up so that I can do a part 2 where you come back and we get that fun dynamic #don't know if i will tho #also hi #it's been a minute #how you guys doing #school sucks that's how I'm doing #despite that I'll probably be posting another oneshot tomorrow #not as sad thankfully #anyway yeah this was more just a self challenge to see if i could do imposter au without breaking the characterization I've got going rn #luckily he's just so full of trama that i can make constant references to that to help tie things together #anyway lantern rite how we feeling

[utilitycaster]

I'm keeping this somewhat on a back burner because I think I need more data, but I feel like a current boundary being tested in actual play, for TTRPGs that are, for lack of a better way to put it, party-based and ostensibly heroic, is exploring in-game whether the PCs might be the bad guys or even just neutral guys who are not up to the task. (For this reason, "evil" campaigns do not count here, since those aren't about exploring it as a possibility but instead are simply stating that's the situation - I'm looking for the doubt and realization).

I feel like fans (and some GMs and players) get really skittish about this as a possibility, which is unfortunate because it's one of the most interesting things you can do.

#the best example i can think of offhand is sean finnerty tbh #like it feels some GMs and players are willing to play with it #but even then it's so often in places where consequences are lessened (bcbp and trinyvale come to mind) #and granted. this needs REALLY solid table discussion and agreement beforehand #AND it requires a LOT of GM work re: the enemy #i need to find like. actual play scholars somewhere bc i feel the two big trends rn are #1. more editing/production/removal from the table (which i think is bad) #and 2. this (which i think is good) #oh god. do i have to try to watch kollok. i don't really want to but i feel like i should to be informed.

[edandstede]

i feel like the only one who still really enjoys desktop themes on this webbed site. like fuck the app that barely works anyway. give me customisation, give me little sprites in sidebars, give me hover text and fun cursors, hell even bring back music players i don't fucking care. i love you nav pages i love you rec pages i love you people who are still coding new themes and sharing them with us. most people sign up and never even make a desktop theme these days and i just miss the old days. feeling very nostalgic for a time before everything had a fucking mobile app. i wanna scroll through your personalised scrapbook with your little header text and sidebar picture, your little updates bar. man

#quill to paper #maybe more people still use them than i realise #i feel like most people will be coders themselves or like. graphics/gifmakers. those are the ones who still care the most i feel #anyway i'm editing my theme rn and adding a new navi page #it's still 2012 to me i don't care

[sentientsky]

"I forgive you." It came out like a blood clot—like an artery dripping gore—like an oil spill. Crowley felt his shoulders rise, fall, fall, fall. The air between them hummed, the tension of six thousand years turning every atom electrified and silently screaming. Breath shuddered out of him, human and terrible and hollowing. He had never been more grateful for the swallowing darkness of his glasses, for the way they hid the centuries of pre-emptive grief and wicked terror. The air was suffocating, the once familiar bookshop turned catacomb.

And then, hating himself for it but seeing no other way forward, he spoke the words aloud. "Don't bother". And then he was out in the middle of Soho and the breeze was harsh against his too-warm skin. Stepping out into the sun felt like rising to the surface of some great ocean—the gasping, desperate feeling in his lungs, the sudden crash of noise. A woman across the street called for her wife. A car horn. A dog barking. Laughter, cruel and far-off. He pulled breath into lungs that didn't need it, winced as he felt slivers of cold drive into the soft flesh of his throat.

So that was it; five and a half million years of want and need and burning, aching somedays, cyphered pleas for "our side". All gone in the space between shaking half-breaths and a kiss still seared against his lips.

Fuck it.

He'd ruined it the first time, had forced them both to look directly into the sun, to face the thing they'd been dancing around for the better part of six millennia. He could do better—would do better. At a music café some years ago, a human had been playing the piano—something soft and slow. A jazz number, if the demon remembered correctly. But the remarkable thing wasn’t the song itself, but that they were playing it with their eyes closed. Aziraphale had pointed this fact out to Crowley, excitement lilting in his voice (even then, the sound had thrilled him, sent a stab of warmth through his heart). It was only after the final note reverberated through the room that the artist opened their eyes, blinking in the sudden rush of stage lights. Aziraphale, ever the music connoisseur, approached the musician. The pianist had explained that, for them, reading music never came easy. Rather, they learned by touch, by the way the keys felt on their fingertips. In fact, the only way they could play a song was with their eyes closed. If they watched their hands as they played or thought too hard about their next move, they got confused and tripped over the notes. Muscle memory, they’d said.  It was muscle memory—the galactic familiarity of finding the space between seconds and prying—that guided Crowley now. He hadn’t done it since Not-Armageddon, but it came easily to him just the same. Time, you see, operates kind of like sound, like music; it loops and sways and carries forward in waves. If you know where to look (as the demon did), you can disrupt the flow, send it back towards the shore. 

And this was what Crowley did now. Drawing his hands through the ripples of minutes and seconds and hours and millennia, time stilled around him. It was natural. Easy, like breathing or sleeping. Or loving Aziraphale.  Slowly, the world turned backwards; humans retreating from whence they came, cars driving in reverse, the wind blowing in the opposite direction. If Heaven had taken notice of their "half-a-miracle", Crowley expected them to be able to see this from every edge of the universe. He likely only had one shot at this.

The world aligned itself once more, and time returned to its regular, steady gait—a rubber band snapping back into place. Something hummed in Crowley’s chest. Something bright and burning and the shape of a neutron star.  Hands shaking, he reached for the handle of the bookshop and pushed. The bell above the door rang, clear and and too-loud in the morning air. Aziraphale whirled around, a trembling half-smile on his face. Oh. Oh, somebody, this was going to be harder than he thought. It felt like all the oxygen, all the courage, had been punched clear out of him "Crowley!" A beat, a shuddering breath. "Angel". He pressed his still-trembling hands into his pockets and strode forward. "Oh, Crowley, dear, I've been looking for you. I have excellent news." His stomach did a little flip, something deep within him growing hollow and fearful. "We have to talk," he managed to choke out around the heart still lodged in his throat. "Yes, I quite think we do. I have something to tell you." Aziraphale strode forward, all grins and beauty like a flickering star, all plasma and heat. He could practically feel the agitated warmth roll off of his angel. Crowley shivered. "I just met with the Meta—” "No. Wait," the demon held up a hand, pausing the rushing torrent of Aziraphale’s words. "Just let me say my thing, please." "My dear boy, just—oh, what is that lovely human expression—"

"Hold that thought," Crowley muttered. His eyes burned behind his glasses. Aziraphale looked pleasantly taken aback.

"Yes, how did you know? I—" "No." The angel's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No?" "No," he repeated, enunciating each letter with perfect clarity. He was going to do it right this time. He was going to keep him from leaving. He could be good. Right? "I’m gonna speak, and I want you to listen to me without interrupting, m'kay?" Words were building in the basin of his sternum now, pushing up on his airways. He was going to have to say it outright this time; no more waltzing around this frenzied galaxy of emotion. Willing his hands to steadiness, he pulled his glasses from his face, and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. Aziraphale's breath seemed to catch for a moment, meeting the ferocity of the demon's gaze head-on. A deer in headlights. And then, "Crowley, I really—" (Eons hurtled through his mind in a split second, the serrated knife's-edge of want like a being all its own. Aziraphale in the garden. Aziraphale in the tavern, on the cliffside, on the West End stage, in the Bentley, in the bookshop, in the very marrow of Crowley’s bones.) "I love you," he rasped, ichor writhing in his veins.

There, he'd said it., said it fully and completely, without so much as flinching. It was the same love he'd expressed for the past several thousand years in a million little, unspoken ways: an ox rib, a revolution, a church, a burning bookshop and the bottom of a glass and a lost best friend. A yellow Bentley, a lifetime of tethering his life to Aziraphale's, of trailing after him like a moth to flame—like a dog to its owner. "I love you," he pushed on. They were both looking directly into the sun again, Crowley urging them to stare straight into the heat of it all. The words were spilling out of him now, a heaving, thrashing current falling to the bookshop's hardwood floors. "I love you and you can't go to Heaven." Aziraphale froze, pupils blown wide and unblinking, for just a moment. Tension stretched out like a thread between them. And then he pulled in breath like a drowning man (who wasn't really a man at all), and tears were gathering in the corner of his eyes, and oh god, he'd made his angel cry. Fear and guilt and horror slammed into him at a million kilometers an hour and left him halfway between dizzy and nauseous. His fingers tensed at his side, desperate to do something, fix what he'd so obviously broken. Heaven would be on the front step any moment. It was too late, wasn't it? It was always too late. "Crowley—what?" Aziraphale breathed, mouth twisting into a brutal, terrible, heart-wrenching sob. Crowley ached, panic lancing through him like a knife. "I—I really, I can't. You could come with me." He stepped forward, moving to place his hands on the demon's shoulders. Crowley leaned into the touch, almost unconsciously. "Don't go," he croaked, tears beginning to prick his own eyes once again. This time he didn't reach for his glasses, didn't try to hide his fear. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And then Aziraphale could hate him and his desperate, hungry, reverent love in the aftermath. "Don't go where I can't follow. Please".

His angels blue-grey eyes searched his own, and the weight of his gaze was impossibly heavy, pressing down on his chest like a river-smoothed rock. "Crowley, please. I don't understand. The Metatron said—" His palms found the sides of Crowley's throat, thumbs resting gently on the side of his jaw. Crowley sucked in a breath. "Angel," The scent of earl grey—of old books and soft tartan chairs. Aziraphale's hands were shaking. "I know what the Metatron said," he intoned, soft as rainfall. "You can't go. It's not—they won't change. You're better than that." "But you could be an angel. With me," he murmured, soft thumbs running across sharp cheekbones. "Be my second-in-command." "Don't want to be. Want t' be an us," he felt tears—traitorous, burning tears tip over the edge of his lashes and fall against his face. "Crowley, darling, please." A beat. "I love you." The bottom of the world dropped out from under him in that moment. Aziraphale loved him. He loved him and he'd said it aloud and now it was out there in the world and it was as though every nerve on his body was on fire. His angel pushed on, "Truly, I love you. I need you with me. Please, come with me. We can do good, I know it." He could never say no when his angel asked something of him. Especially not when his kind, gentle hands were holding him like something good, something precious. Especially not when Aziraphale had just admitted to needing him, had injected the word with so much warmth he thought his all-too-human heart might beat clear out of his chest. But there was a first (technically, second) time for everything. He drew in a heavy breath, and tilted his head, breaking his angel's hold on him. Aziraphale's hands—now empty, still shook. He made a soft whimpering sound, and Crowley ached to kiss his fingertips, banish the fear. But instead, he looked up towards the ceiling, to a God who was not there—who maybe had never been there at all. He felt the Heavenly Host drawing near, a sense of hollow emptiness, the scent of absence. This was the time of last-ditch efforts, of holding his heart out and hoping Aziraphale might take it as it was, bruised spots and all. "I can't. I won't. I need to be here, on Earth, with you." "Crowley, please. I don't think you understand what I'm offering you," he huffed. A residual shard of anger stabbed at him then, and he turned his gaze sharply back to the angel before him. "Oh, I understand perfectly well, angel. I'm fairly certain I understand better than you do." Aziraphale's mouth drew into a thin line, tears welling fresh in his eyes again. And still, Crowley ached. A beat. Something in the angel shifted, then, turned on its edge—the walls beginning to go up again, and it was just like it had been not fifteen minutes ago. He was watching the same moment play out over and over again; some cyclical, torrential nightmare. "I would like you to come with me, but," Aziraphale paused, voice breaking in the middle. "But I'm leaving, with or without you." And there it was, like it was predestined. Despite the love, despite the want, despite every shared bottle passed between them, every half-accidental touch and glance and whispered word—despite the way he would’ve let Aziraphale run a sword through his chest... It wasn't enough. It was never enough. They were re-enacting their old magic trick, right there in the bookshop, this time with Crowley staring down the barrel, letting Aziraphale pull the trigger. Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear. Aziraphale wasn't shooting past his ear. His bloody ribcage felt as though it might splinter apart. Wingbeats in the distance, a grief wide enough to drown the sea. Crowley reached down, pulled his sunglasses from their resting spot against his clavicle. And then the hunger in his eyes was once more hidden, and he was walking towards the door like a man headed to execution. "Crowley—" Aziraphale nearly keened, the wall crumbling for a split second. Without turning, Crowley said the only words he could think of. "I forgive you."

#did i steal some lines from one of my own fanfics??? yes. yes i did #because im tired and i don't want to come up with more metaphors for time warping rn. so hush <3 #good omens fanfiction #good omens angst #THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS LONG #FUCK I FUCKED UP IM DEHYDRATED AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING AN ESSAY WHAT THE FUCK #idek what this is i literally have not edited one tiny little bit of this. i just came up with everything as i went along so i apologize #ignore the fact that the dialogue/pacing/ideas diverge from canon shhhhhh im too tired to look at source material #ehhh dunno how i feel ab this but whatever here's something (???) #take a shot every time i say chest or heart or ache or tremble #good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #aziraphale #aziracrow #go2 #ineffable lovers #ineffable wives #good omens season 2 #crowley angst #final fifteen #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable divorce #good omens fic #good omens fanfic #gomens

[cringeborg]

1820s to 1840s Evening Wear - 2 suits

Two little edits of that one beloved Vampires suit, with three things in common: Wide hips, a slightly higher collar, and the same swatches.

From the 1820s until the mid-1830s, the fashionable silhouette for men's clothing was wide hips, a slender waist and full shoulders. This look was generally achieved through padding, corseting, and most of all, tailoring.

In the latter half of the 1830s, this silhouette began to change. The shoulders became sloped, and a "pigeon-breasted" look became more fashionable. Hips were still just as wide and the waist just as narrow. The 1840s look was, of course, also usually achieved through unnatural means.

Basically: V1 is this 1820s to mid-1830s look, and V2 is the mid-1830s to 1840s look. V1 has puffy sleeves while V2 has sloped shoulders. V2 also has a slightly fuller chest.

Swatch 1-48: Tie and vest in white, suit in many different colors.

Swatch 49-60: Suit in black, tie in white, vest in various colors.

Swatch 61-65: Suit in black, tie in black, vest in a few different colors. These are intended to be mourning swatches.

Both are BGC!

Both have the same 65 swatches

All LODs (except LOD3 which refused to cooperate with me, so it's the LOD3 of the original vampires suit)

Found in the Sets category

Appropriately tagged and disabled for random

Display index by decade

Download .zip (SFS)

Alt download (Mediafire)

V1 in swatches 1, 12 and 64:

V2 in swatches 38, 59 and 62:

Side views and back views:

#i know i've been talking about making a whole set and uh. i did make a third thing! but it sucked. oh well! #it was a good idea i just fucked up the execution and don't feel like trying again rn. still exists in my head :) #also if you haven't noticed i always upload these sets as zips. this is because zips are my best friend #and merged packages are my worst enemy. do NOT try to change the display index number on a merged package #it's just easier imo. download 7zip to extract stuff easily! it saved my life #model of the day: andrei fyodorovich vnesky. guy who died in 1825 but he looks pretty good in 1840s clothes.... #am cc #my cc #ts4cc #sims 4 cc #sims 4 custom content #historical cc #victorian cc #mesh edit #fullbody #19c #ts4 1820s #ts4 1830s #ts4 1840s

[copper-skulls]

yeehaw guy (please read silverskye13's Hell-Raising. please. pl)

also

i did this on my touchpad (agonizing) solely bcs I thought it'd be funny to. very small

#fic fanart #western au #hell-raising #grillby #don't feel like tagging the rest rn fhasj #you can see exactly where I didn't plan where I'd stop drawing him adn then the gun looked weird so I drew more of it and the rest #had to follow and it uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #rough #okay okay i liked working in ut's pixelart style up until this #grillby' ssprite has outlined HANDS but not his HEAD FLAME. UH #little consistency gremlin chewed on my brain i had to outline the flme in the edit sorry #it bugged me ;_;

[raiiny-bay]

new character page wip

#i edited the shit out of this code ngl #idk what i'm gonna put under the music section yet #the picture is just a place holder #i definitely like this layout better. not looking forward to having to do new pictures of everyone. again. #i'm also rewriting everyone's bios. again. bc i want them to reflect their current selves more #rn they're like a weird mix of their canon & post-canon selves & they just don't feel very. cohesive. ig #like. most of my edits take place in post-canon so i think their pages should match that? #they're not accurate to the versions of them that i share on here. that's what i mean #mm i just confused myself trying to think about it #ok. i'm gonna go have lunch & then i guess i'll write or something #i had something else i was gonna say but i forgot lol #rainyrambles

[lulu-draws-stuff]

Ok here's Bunny

She is um. she's a fluffybird fanchild

She's very silly and exists in a sort of post canon au where everybody's ok and no longer affected by the narrative

Her name is actually Gwendolyn, but Yellow said she looked like a dust bunny when he saw her and the nickname stuck. Everyone calls her either Dusty or Bunny (her actual name is reserved for when she's in trouble now)

Some older drawings + a colored version:

#doodles #dhmis oc #Dust Bunny #(sure) #ocs #I like her :) #I might mess with her colors later because idk how I feel about them rn #dhmis au #I also might post more about the au at some point #I don't have a name for it yet but also I'm still figuring stuff out so that's ok #tumblr. where is the alt text tumblr #it's still there when I edit it #but the button to show it is only showing up on the first one #hopefully it's just like that on mobile or just me for some reason #art

[just-illegal]

AITA for lying to my friend about owning a frog?

Friend- friend is dubious.

Ok, so: I (M) was painting some frogs onto the tower I share with my roommate P (20-something or 30-something?, F), when - we'll call him J (can't be older than 20, M) - walked over to me and asked if we had any frogs. I gave him a vague answer, to see what he'd say, and he seemed to think we did... and he got super excited at the concept of frogs. He even offered a lifetime supply of food for it! Now, we didn't have any, but I did know a group of wild frogs with prophetic powers (long story), and I brought him to them, kind of killed one in front of him, and gave him the grandmaster frog (1537 and 2 months, M) as a sign of peace.

However, from the moment I gave it to him, I knew he was gonna kill it. Just felt it in my bones, you know?

I confessed to P what I had done, and she scolded me, reminding me that frogs were our thing and no one else on the server was supposed to have them. I knew I had messed up, but I told her that we could always just steal it back.

The next time we saw J, not soon after actually, we threatened him and asked where he had hid the frog. He was confused, I told P he had taken it from me, he told her about the food thing, and she started asking me all sorts of questions like I was the one who did something wrong! Asking me why I didn't tell her about the food offer, asking me why I would even take that offer up because we can steal from them so easily... We then got back to threatening him about the location of the frog, and he got super cryptic about it! Saying we didn't need to know, but that the frog was safe, and that he had renamed it.

After our talk with J, P and I started looking for the frog. She was gonna act as distraction as I went through their house, but it had been burned down a bit ago (long story) and I sort of wimped out and walked up to J and his friend instead. J said I had double crossed him for some reason, and when I made an offer he said he was tired of my deals?

I went and apologized to the frogs afterwards, don't you worry. They forgave me, but I knew I would have to make things right.

Will update you guys on developments, but I just wanted to post this now because I want to know if I'm really in the wrong or not.

Edit 1: I got the perfect opportunity today, so I decided to just steal it. I had to tell the frogs first, and picked one to act as a decoy.

I did manage to save it, and I brought it back home and hid it in a wall in the basement stairwell. Next, there was only one thing left to do: ask J to let us see the frog. He was a bit apprehensive, but I reminded him that we're great friends, and he promised to think it over.

He did make up his mind and let me see the frog eventually, but it turned out to be a ploy to kidnap me in an obsidian box! P did save me, don't worry! I still can't believe he would trick me like that, though...

He did later find the frog missing, and got super mad at me, like I'd done anything wrong!

By the way, I showed P the frog, safe and sound, and she was super proud of me!

Also, people have been asking for elaboration on the stuff I've said were long stories, but... they're long stories, and this post is already getting super long. Maybe I'll elaborate someday.

#will genuinely edit this when i rewatch more of the episodes but i just don't feel like it rn #trafficaita #bigbst4tz2 #limited life #limlife #liml #limlsmp #pearlescentmoon #solidaritygaming #unreality #my verdict is 'ESH. what the hell' #froga (frog saga) my beloved forever #it's such an aita post that just gets weirder with every detail

[prettyboybun]

Sometimes it's like. no I am not horny. Yes I know when I get home, I will inevitably be touching my tdick til I cum regardless. We exist

#think it's mostly just that I need cuddled but I don't see my bf til tomorrow #I'm also just in a vv soft mood anyways- 💫 has been fronting a lot today #anyways umm. hold me in your arms and overstim me while I bury my face in your chest? 🥺 #edit- also realizing that I can't think Too in depth/serious abt sex rn due to ptsd stuff being wack rn #like. I can absolutely still do sex stuff esp with my partner because I don't feel any pressure to be a certain way #but like just fantasizing alone is difficult rn tbh

[void-imp]

idontwannagototherapyidontwannagototherapy

i'm going to my therapist in a little under and hour and i don't wanna gooooooooooooooooooooo

#it's hARD... and unfun #like i know that's the point and like it helps but rn i'm just like #and i'll go!!! like don't worry i'll go #but i will be feeling sorry for myself the whole way there #nonsims #olly:rambles #edit: how many times can i say *like* in one sentence

[solidwater05]

I finally got a new sketchbook! And of course I drew myself all over the first page

#ice speaks #i made myself look so cool #you're gonna have to trust me here because i really don't feel like taking pics and editing rn

[mikeyfrickinway]

These have been sitting in my phone gallery for long enough, I was itching to recreate the album cover with facepaint. This was rlly fun to do! It's not perfect by any means, but I'm looking forward to trying it again eventually lol

+ bonus pic with the lil album in the bg :]

I wasn't 100% sure I wanted to post these but my phone kinda literally fried itself today and I lost a lot of stuff, but since I was able to recover these, here they are!!!

I'm also currently working on starting up commissions for this stuff 👀

#today was devastating... anyways!!!! #I recorded a bass cover of demo lovers in costume but its gone now lol #it is what it is slay la vie and whatnot #demolition lovers cosplay #MCR #my chemical romance #my posts #technically it was yesterday but I don't feel like editing all that rn #posting this to make up for the Gabe spam jdjjdjfhdh