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#im gonna do more
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More of me running my mouth about music as inspiration except this time its just Dear Wormwood
Prelude. Prelude. PRELUDE. This is probably just a music nerd thing but its so perfect. Despite my horrible understanding of music theory, a prelude is usually the first piece of music that is meant to represent the succeeding and usually longer movements in a single work, but they could also stand alone. The Prelude to Dear Wormwood works as both. It starts out quiet before building up with just absolutely amazing wordless vocals and its just so great folks. Its a summary of the whole album in a minute and nine seconds its amazing folks
Okay Bitter Water. The first time I heard this one I thought oh, its a metaphor for alcoholism. Yes, it can be a metaphor for alcoholism, but it is also so much more. In the broader context of Dear Wormwood its an acknowledgement of how bad a relationship is and that the singer, the victim, feels like they can never escape it, but it can be so much more folks. It can be a about a love lost, with the one who lost the love pining and wasting away without their soulmate. Said soulmate could be a part of the griever themself. It can be so much. Its also a banger but thats a given for the whole album. “terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue” is also eternally amazing this whole thing is poetry mates
There Beneath. Calm and flowy and existential kind of but I make a lot of things existential and where were we? But also the line “I saw the morning lead a cavalcade” is bloody amazing. Its such a great and poetic way to describe the breaking dawn, the rising sun, the beginning of a new day and so many other things mates its amazing. Like a veteran adventurer recalling the times when their friends got them out of hard scrapes or something idk
In the Blue Hours of the Morning. It’s a nice waypoint, a chance to catch your breath before the next song which I will go off about but this bit is really just like its title. The time before the cavalcade, when theres still enough light to see by yet its so calm and still and not quite awake yet
Exeunt, which is. It is. Well, exactly what it says on the tin, an exeunt, which is a stage direction for when an actor goes off stage, but its also the most poetry ever. Everyone loves “Fluttering your lashes like ashes and ember” and rightfully so but everything in that song is so bloody strong. “Crocodile eyes I have seen how you hunger”???? “No I cannot trust what you say when youre grieving”????? Like its such a powerful song with all the musicians going ham on the everything and then the lyrics and then the context? Its great its just great
Caesar. A calm follow-up to the headbanger that is Exeunt, but its no less amazing. Im just drowning in symbolism for this one mates. Not only is the morning back and breaking over a palisade but also historical references!?! The backlogs of random anecdotes and stories are tickled awake by the “Look to the sky where the sign will be shown” bit so much like it aint even funny. Its a reference to Constantine the Great, who saw the symbol of the Chi Rho and went on to become roman emperor with it painted on his shields and its so much potential in just three stanzas
This Will End. Fellows this one just hurts. Its so bloody sad and yet such a strangely jaunty tune like the singer has just accepted their sad life and Im always like no! It can get better! You just gotta try a bit! Mates! Im bleeding out!
Pale White Horse. Ohhhhhhhhhh I can get so deep about Pale White Horse but so much of it is about WWI and the Spanish Flu Epidemic and other stuff I do not care to dredge from the depths of my historical brain fluids but its so great as a thing about war and trauma and abuse and so much other stuff just like recognizing someone doing something terrible and that can be either interpreted as oh thats conformation that they were always terrible or oh goodness thats not possible why no why are you like this you are not like this right and there’s no in between. And both hurt!
Where Is Your Rider. Enough metaphors to fill a graveyard (hey Crane Wives fans. Hey. Did you get it? Eh? Idk I thought it was funny) and then some but also oooooh the lines just go so hard sometimes. “But these bones never rested while living / So how can they stand to languish in repose”???????? Like mate youre dead but youre still going to push on and keep on fighting mates it hurts it hurts too much there are too many characters and situations and just stray thoughts I can peg to these two lines alone help
Soldier, Poet, King. Need I say more? Yes, I need to say more. Everyone above and below knows how bloody legendary this song is but take this as a sign to listen to it again. Its just that good. Someone once tired and broken who has found support and is coming back to finish the job they couldnt finish on their own is just oooooooooooooogh mates. Also funny ha ha DND party. Two sides of the same polyhedral dice. Probably a d100 with all the nonsense I can drag out of it at this point.
Dear Wormwood. The album namer. UGH I cannot get enough of this one. Just some of the lines in this one mates. “And in my hour of weakness / You were there to see me fail”???????? “I know who I am now / I know who I wanna be / I wanna be more than / That devil inside of me”??????????????????? Its just so perfect and so amazing and it gives you a warn hug and it punches you in the gut and it helps you up and gives you hot tea and the works mates its just so great
Danse Macabre. One last instrumental. A Danse Macabre was usually a piece of art with people dancing next to skeletons, representing the inevitability of death and the equality in the grave and so many other sad and mopey things but also its just such a fun jig. It really does feel like a bunch of spooky scary skeletons jamming on their graves. And that’s a one liner I never thought Id need to write.
Thus Always to Tyrants. Bloody hell this is the perfect ending song. The singer immediately starting off with “Let me die, let me drown, leave my bones in the ground”, proclaiming themselves free of the worries and pains they started the album with, singing as the blazing sun rises that yes, they are, if not happy now, then at least better now, and that anyone who threatens that will face the new and improved them is just ooooooogh. Mates. If theres one song you need to listen to if you somehow made it to the end of this thingie without also being obsessed with the Oh Hellos, its Thus Always to Tyrants. But please listen to the whole of Dear Wormwood first. It makes the impact so much better.
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noramsblog · 2 years
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Older Damianya, or domestic Damianya?
Sorry it took me so long 😭😭
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payasita · 11 months
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being a manager sucks balls half the time but the cashier kids im in charge of trust me enough to dick around in front of me so ive been keeping a running list of the shit they say that makes me laugh randomly: -"guys, is it cheating if you play fortnite with your ex" [4 seperate others, immediately]: "YES" -"there must be like… infinite sentences" -"bro what bro what the fuck bro what's that mean bro why'd you say that bro what" <distraught response to a girl randomly greeting him with 'hey there big boy' in an old timey transatlantic news reporter accent
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casiia · 4 months
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simon riley sending you a picture every time he’s drinking a cup of tea to prove to you that he’s winding down :((
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simon 💕
m’takin a break. don’t worry, doll.
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sure "romantic" isn't the only type of love but also "love" isn't the only type of positive feeling. So maybe stop insisting everyone needs love to be happy and accept that loveless ppl exist? Pretty please?
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crescentfool · 4 months
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december 31st but i make it silly (based on a tumblr post, below the cut!)
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everyone say thank you xenia, i made adjustments for the december 31st context but nyx avatar is still fitting.
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original draft of the last panel. i considered putting the bi flag but i didn't know how to squeeze it in. we love ryoji mochizuki in this house.
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inkskinned · 4 months
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the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.
the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.
friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.
if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!
what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!
people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.
you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.
your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.
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may12324 · 1 year
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💖 The Fairy Godmother’s Apprentice  - a sapphic fairy tale Visual Novel and Dating Sim. 💖
When the fairy godmother goes away on vacation leaving you in charge , will you make sure stories stay on their paths? or will you change your fate and risk it all for romance....
This is a fake dating game, its not real unfortunately. But maybe some day, in the future! I just love womens, and fairytales, and dating sims; so this is a culmination of all three! (with a fun emphasis on hot butch ladies, we need more of them okay! the mermaid is muscular and hot too okay, i swear).
Any Australian game devs wanna make this happen? Come at me, I’m ready to go batshit bananas working on this as a real game,.
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amelia-yap · 13 days
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warrior
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cynicallyneutral · 1 year
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had to be done 🤷
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casualcupholder · 7 months
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ok last batch for a little while 🥹 im idea’d out lol
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sp0o0kylights · 9 months
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Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 
A03
Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 
Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 
Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 
More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 
 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.
Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 
Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 
He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 
(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 
He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 
"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 
Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.
Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 
Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."
"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.
"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 
Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 
Would Harrington pitch a fit? 
Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 
Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 
Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 
Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 
Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.
"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 
Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 
"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  
"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.
The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 
"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.
He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 
"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 
A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 
How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…
He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 
"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 
He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 
There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 
Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 
Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."
Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 
The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."
'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'
Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."
"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 
He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 
He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.
 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 
"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."
Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.
Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 
A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.
(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)
A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.
"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.
No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.
Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 
He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 
Several somethings, in fact. 
"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 
"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 
Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 
An unfair advantage, really. 
‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 
Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.
"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 
Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.
Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 
"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 
Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.
 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 
"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 
It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.
Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 
Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 
Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.
"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 
"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"
Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 
He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 
"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 
"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 
Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 
"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 
Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 
"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 
"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.
Judged.
Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 
Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 
"Anybody else?" He asked. 
"Nobody human." Steve replied. 
"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 
He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.
"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 
Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 
He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 
The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 
With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 
All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 
Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 
The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 
Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 
"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.
Steve blinked. "Uh…" 
"You take any today son?" 
Steve his head. 
"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 
Course he hadn't. 
"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.
Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 
He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 
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z00lea · 28 days
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my blorbos....
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arcanegifs · 4 months
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ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 1x05 - "Everybody Wants to Be My Enemy" ↳ "So what'll it be, man or woman?"
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mikeyfrickinway · 11 months
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Since I'm almost done working on em here's my demolition lovers costumes so far!
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I started this in like mid/late March I believe
This is my first time doing beading ever, I probably should have started with something smaller or even tested on some scrap but I am nothing if not stupidly ambitious.
I wanna say this is roughly 14hours of work so far, I still want to add more to the dress and possibly make some accessories, we will see what I can get done by Saturday lol
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idolomantises · 2 months
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There's a pretty popular artist on here that once tried to steal my OCs because they were mad at me. every once in a while i see them and i'll think "oh yeah, thats the guy who tried to split up my lesbian couple and pair one of them up with her brother in law. Weird"
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