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#let's do this :)) <33!!

girl-kendallroy · 10 months

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what i wouldn’t fucking give for this mo dtwof paper cut out doll. are you kidding me right now…

(from the indelible alison bechdel)

#alison your mind <33 #kissing her on the mouth for just. this whole thing.#‘let’s do the lang thang!’ me when i’m an albertan dyke so every day <3 #alison bechdel #dykes to watch out for

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reaurelynios · 1 year

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@kikruui's designs because both them and their designs are cool as hell !! go check them out :))

[image ID a digital drawing of sun and moon designs by kikruui. sun is stood slightly taller than moon with one hand by his face and the other stretched out behind moon. moon is slightly hunched over with both hands in claw-like shapes at his sides. the background is purple with a light purple outline around sun and moon. end ID]

#reart #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf dca #sundrop #moondrop #kik <3 #just they #they're so pretty #i'm genuinely in love with your designs kik <33 #and your art !!#it's so scrumptious #i care you too by the way i forgot to say before :D #also i'm going to be putting image id's on my art now so if anyone has any tips or if i'm doing anything wrong please let me know !!

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tunastime · 7 months

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A Gear of the Heart, Turning

so I'm back on an ethubs kick after so very long of not writing them (spacer really changes a man), and decided to take a quick peek back into the DBHC au by @shepscapades beloved. thanks for making me insane! ahhaha <33 etho... anyways enjoy them! <3

(2847 words) (check out DBHC here!)

When Etho comes back from exploring, Bdubs is lying in the grass.

It’s a crisp, cold, clear day. The sun is bright blue, bright enough to stare into and imagine what the burning feeling could be, the cold brightness, the way the sun carries no warmth but a fraction of what it could in the summer. Etho knows exactly what time of year it is, he’s never stopped keeping track, he’s never paused counting the days in his own personal, mental calendar. Fall. Getting colder every day. Nights growing in length, days getting shorter and shorter. In the corner of his eye, if he were to focus on it, he could see the date. For now, though, the sides of his vision held other data—temperature, his own lives, a list of players, his personal chances of success. He’s not here to cause problems, that’s not his job. He’s got another objective, something self-made. Survive. He’s supposed to be surviving. He is surviving, in fact.

If Etho could breathe, he would’ve taken in a lungful of that sharp, cold air, would know the way it hit the back of his throat. Instead, he feels the sun, and the air, and knows them in absolutes, and picks his way around the base and over to Bdubs in the grass. He’s not asleep yet—his heart beats a steady drum, calm and even. Etho notes the slow rise and fall of his chest, the way he sees his eyebrows twitch when Etho stands in the patch of sun he rests in. He pillows his head on his coat, his arms spread out. His eyes don’t open, but his hand reaches out, smacking the side of Etho’s ankle.

“Etho,” Bdubs says tiredly.

“How did you know it was me?” Etho asks, a note of curiosity entering his tone. He tilts his head, a bit unnecessarily. He knows Bdubs can’t see. It just feels right. He’s been doing a lot of that, lately—doing things because they feel right, rather than because he has to. That’s human, isn’t it?

“Who else is gonna come stormin’ into our base and stand in front of me?” Bdubs says. Finally, he cracks open an eye, squinting up at Etho, brows furrowed. His hand messes with the lace of Etho’s boot, twisting it in his fingers. Etho notes it down—he doesn’t want to trip.

“I was quiet as a mouse, Bdubs!” Etho says. He smiles—just enough for it to be seen in his eyes. Bdubs can’t see behind the black mask on his face.

Bdubs snorts. After a moment, he shuts his eyes again. His hand falls still, over his chest. He sighs out a profound thing, face softening as he relaxes again.

“Sure you were, Etho,” he says. Etho hums a little. He likes the sound of Bdubs’ tone when he says that—something about it feels so much softer than normal. Maybe unintentionally tired. Maybe he was asleep before Etho got here. “Get outta my sun, will you?”

Step out of the sun, Etho thinks. It lingers for a moment. Will you? The added request. He considers it for a moment longer before he does. He rounds around Bdubs’ head, drops down to occupy the space right at his right shoulder. The sun shines on both of them.

Etho takes a moment to shrug off the warm coat around him. It ends up on the grass beside him and so does his mask and he leans back on his hands. He soaks in the sun, wondering what that warmth could feel like if it were just a bit stronger, if the bite of cold around them weren’t so prevalent. He wonders how much Bdubs feels of both, if it’s more than him, if it’s less. Bdubs heart stays steady, his breathing even. He still isn’t sleeping.

“That better?” Etho asks, lowering his voice. Bdubs makes a noise, half-startled. Etho looks down at him, watching the way his face changes ever so as he recognizes Etho’s question. He gets the urge, just for a moment, to reach out, to run his hand through Bdubs’ hair, despite how greasy it must be at this point. He wonders if it would tangle. He wonders if it feels any certain way.

“That’s much better,” Bdubs sighs. “Thank you, Etho.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a beat of quiet where they sit together. Etho’s hand sits behind Bdubs’ head. He considers that urge with full merit, listening to Bdubs sigh again, comfortable and content even in the midst of a death game. To be fair, Etho knows he isn’t. This is just a facade for a brief moment—or perhaps it’s Etho himself making him this calm. He can’t tell. Part of him hopes it’s the latter, rather than the former.

Bdubs tilts his head back, craning his neck to get a look at Etho behind him. He smiles a bit, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly. Etho tilts his head again, that questioning gesture, finally letting his hand rest at the crown of Bdubs’ head. Bdubs smile only grows, just a bit, just the smallest fraction. Etho doesn’t move his hand—he just rests it there. Just for a moment.

“What’re you doin’?” Bdubs asks.

“Sitting here,” Etho says plainly. “Is that a problem?”

“You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable.”

“I am,” Etho says. He hums a little, to add to the effect. “You look comfortable yourself.”

“Oh,” Bdubs says, shutting his eyes. “Very much so.”

Etho hums again. He lets his thumb drag over the top of Bdubs’ head, muzzing up his hair, allowing just a moment of self indulgence. Bdubs doesn’t stop him. It’s nice.

Bdubs watches him with a soft, partially confused, partially content look. After a moment, he shuts his eyes, leans his head back down so that Etho’s hand cups the top of his head. He sighs out and clambors up. Etho’s hand falls away after that, and something resembling a pang of longing makes his thirium pump stutter.

Bdubs turns toward him, shifting forward until their knees meet. He blocks part of the sun over Etho, to which Etho nearly makes a comment about it, but it gets lost somewhere as Bdubs squints at him. Late afternoon, Etho thinks. The sun wasn’t high enough in the sky to last much longer. He’ll have to haul himself up and start a fire, soon enough, but Bdubs pins him with that look and Etho can’t move. Bdubs hasn’t even given him a request. It feels self-inflicted.

“You’re staring,” Etho says, a bit obviously.

“You were looking at me funny,” Bdubs says. His mouth curves into a frown. Etho hopes it doesn’t look like he’s watching. Instead, Etho laughs.

“I wasn’t,” he says. Bdubs snorts, shaking his head. He reaches out, patting Etho’s unmarred cheek. The impression his hand leaves is warm—warm enough to almost be hot. Etho’s brain pings the sensation, the impression, the linger of touch, records, stores, repeats. If he had something to swallow he’s sure he would've done it, like he’s seen Bdubs do.

Instead, he raises his eyebrows, and doesn’t say anything, and Bdubs laughs, and Etho doesn’t think another sound could be that good. Bdubs pulls himself up after that, pushing himself forward on his hands and knees, wincing at he twists to stretch, and sighs.

“Tango’ll be back soon to check up on us,” he says. “You wanna get started on a fire?”

Etho looks up at him, nodding slowly. He’s still lingering on that remnant of a touch, the weight of it all. He agrees to what Bdubs says regardless, and as Bdubs nods his thanks and walks away, still complaining about the ache in his back, Etho scoops himself off the ground. Above him, the sun has started to sink in the sky, and the shadows grow.

Etho makes a fire.

Tango comes and goes. He’s not much for sleep, which is typical for him as of late. He laughs as he talks to the two of them, as they bounce around stories about the day passed. Nothing happened—not really, nothing of note. It was slow, full of collection, of waiting, of planning. Tango talks of resource gathering as Bdubs drinks soup from a wooden bowl. It’s a nice slice of quiet, and Etho watches the expression on Tango’s face with a careful contemplation. His red eyes flick to Etho when he talks about their team, and Etho feels that bit of warmth, sharing that eye. Everywhere he goes, he carries a bit of Tango with him. Their odds look better with him here, but he can’t deny the sliver of human error that chips away at that success rate. He doesn’t know how much longer Tango’ll stick around. Surely, he can see it too.

The fire is still going when Tango picks himself up and dusts his pants off and says he’ll be back later. Etho believes him, reaches out to pat his shoulder as he stands with him. Tango jostles, smiles like he means that, too. Etho watches him go before he drops down beside Bdubs again. Bdubs stares into the flames, eyes far away, expression soft. Etho moves to sit next to him, their shoulders almost brushing. It’s Bdubs that closes the gap, pressing to his side, cheek against his shoulder. Etho stays still, stiffening, pretending not to care when Bdubs takes his hand. He can feel the uptick of stress as he sits still, feeling his pump thump in his chest.

Bdubs runs his thumb over the back of his hand, over the valleys of his knuckles. He traces them out with the pad of his finger, and the spark of sensation travels up Etho’s arm, like it could tickle the back of his neck, raise the hair there. It registers, again and again, dull and present but not unpleasant. He leans back into Bdubs. Bdubs laughs a little, just a huff of air.

“You better not be sleepin’ on me, Etho,” Bdubs says, the undertone of sleep coming to his voice. Etho makes a noise of disagreement.

“Never, Bdubs!”

“Mm,” Bdubs sighs. “Good.”

Bdubs lets go after a moment, peeling away from him for just a beat, before they’re sitting side by side again, Bdubs still pressed as close as he can be to his shoulder. Etho notes the way Bdubs shivers, imperceptible. Etho’s the warmest thing besides the fire, here, all moving mechanical parts and expelling heat to keep cool. Not as much as Tango might, but enough to matter. Enough to be a little bit warmer than Bdubs, right now.

Bdubs sighs again, shutting his eyes. Facing Etho, now, Etho can watch his expression change as he starts to warm up, softening, sinking. Bdubs doesn’t open his eyes for a long moment, but his hand comes up, his right hand, left hand replacing the one holding Etho’s wrist hostage. He reaches up to cup Etho’s face in his palm. His warm hand slides up to cradle the scarred side of Etho’s face, and Etho can’t help the immediate reaction of simulated skin fading to white, sliding away where Bdubs’ warm, calloused hand makes contact. Bdubs runs his thumb over a particular crack near his jaw, just a simple, slow motion. Etho wishes he could sigh. It would be the proper response. More than just leaning into the touch and shutting his eyes, more than not knowing why it was nice, and just knowing that it was. It sends sensation after sensation after sensation, the tingling feeling running over his skin and up his cheek and neck. Does Bdubs know? Can he see what it’s doing? Surely he can’t hear the stutter, the way his pump works faster, any of that. If he were to open his eyes, would Bdubs be looking at him? What would that expression look like?

He opens his eyes anyway. He lets them slide open, ignoring the very human response to shut them again, to soak in the touch, the feeling of being held. The feeling he was realizing he would like if he could tie the two together. Bdubs is looking at him, but his expression is soft, almost concerned. Hesitant, maybe. He pauses the drag of his thumb over Etho’s cheek as Etho meets his eye, even as Etho’s expression is low-lidded and unfocused.

“‘S that nice?” Bdubs asks softly, voice going hoarse as it hits the low register.

Etho blinks, slow. The edges of his vision fuzz out, like his optical unit is failing. He opens his mouth, realizing he’s failed to preemptively form a sentence. He makes a sound instead, then tries again, stuttering.

“I don’t know.”

Bdubs frowns a little. Etho leans hard into his palm. Not like that. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“It’s nice, but I don’t know what nice means,” Etho manages. He’s not making any sense. “You don’t have to stop.”

Bdubs’ frown fades, turning soft, warm, into a smile. He laughs a little, a sound Etho registers as a laugh. Good enough to be a laugh.

“I hear you, sweetheart,” Bdubs says gently.

Etho smiles, laughs a little. As much as he’s learned to mimic, so far, something that’s started to morph into his own little sound.

“You getting soft on me, Bdubs?” he asks. He can’t help it—the amused tease comes too natural to kick. He feels Bdubs pinch his cheek and recoils, face scrunching.

“I am not,” Bdubs barks. His voice is flooded with amusement though, and Etho laughs with him. He can’t help it. Bdubs laughs, and he does too, and whatever thing he’s experiencing feels incredibly fond and sweet and he hopes he’ll soon be able to actually pin it to something. What was all that? Who was that, squeezing itself into Bdubs’ body, to touch Etho’s face in a way that he’d never really done before? To admire? Was he admiring? Looking at him? Memorizing like Etho was? Etho watches Bdubs turn away, searching for something to snuff the fire. He pretends not to notice the flush on Bdubs’ cheeks.

Bdubs is such an odd person.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get a proper grasp of human emotion. Maybe that’s the whole point.

Bdubs snuffs the fire. When he does, he turns to Etho. The mask finds Etho’s face again, and Etho registers the falter in Bdubs’ face when he looks at him.

“Gotta protect that face of yours, don’t’cha?” Bdubs says, swallowing down something. Maybe there’s a hint of emotion Etho is missing. He can’t really tell. His vision sharpens back into clarity as Etho rises to a stand. The sky is just starting to get dark, the air cold, and Bdubs looks over to the wooden structure they’re calling home—more than just the fort. A warmer space than just the fort.

“You know it,” Etho says playfully. That alone cracks the facade of Bdubs’ discomfort. He smiles, shaking his head, rolling his eyes in the good-natured way that Etho always recognized as good-natured and not malicious.

“You comin’ to bed?” Bdubs asks. He jerks his head over to the wooden structure, body halfway turned to it. He doesn’t say anything else, lingering on Etho’s unsaid answer. Etho shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets as his shoulders rise.

“Maybe. Probably not tonight.”

“Mm,” Bdubs says. “Right. Forget you don’t need to sleep half the time.” Then he laughs, and at the last second, adds:

“You weirdo.”

Etho barks out a laugh—something wholly his own, surprised, startled by Bdubs’ comment. He watches Bdubs turn away from him, still chuckling, still smiling to himself. After a beat, he calls back to him, and Bdubs turns. Etho shrugs off his coat, holding it out to him with one hand, the other still in the pocket of his pants. Bdubs tilts his head, frowning a little.

“You’re not gonna get cold?” he asks. Etho shakes his head.

“I’ll be alright,” he says, smiling. It feels nice to smile. It feels nice that it meets his eyes.

“Okay, Etho,” Bdubs says, taking the coat. He pauses for a moment, draping it over his arm. It feels good. Maybe that’s what Bdubs means by things feeling nice. Feeling. Maybe. “Have a good night, alright?”

“I’ll try, Bdubs,” Etho says, letting his tone be as affectionate as is appropriate. Bdubs nods his head. That smile doesn’t leave his face for as long as Etho can see him.

Bdubs wanders off to their room, quiet. Etho finds that place in the grass again. He’ll check in on him in a bit, spend the rest of the night planning, working, and spend some time resting when he knows he’s able to tomorrow. For now, though, Etho drops himself into the soft grass still present around the base, in the snow, feeling it cold but not yet damp, waning from the evening light. Feeling. Feeling. Feeling. Maybe he can get used to feeling. Maybe he’ll understand feeling on his own. He looks up, into the sky, and tries to see if there are any stars he recognizes.

They wink their way in from the gold-blue sky, and Etho watches.

#dbhc #ethubs #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #tangotek #hermitcraft #hermitcraft dbh au #hermitcraft fic #mcyt #mcyt fic #text #fics #HI SHEPHERD THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME DO THIS #YALL i am so CRAZY about them #there's another fic too where they kiss #blows myself up RAGHRGAHRAHRRBGHRBGHR #AHEM im fine #im okay now <33 #anyway ethubs weeeeee!!

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mickeym4ndy · 13 days

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I can’t stop thinking about a fanfic idea where Mickey does 8 years in prison after season 5 as planned, and when he gets out he moves to whatever city Svetlana and Yev live in, determined to move on with his life.

And then 8 years later when Yev is like 17, they’re all back in Chicago for a few days because Yevs got a big soccer game or something for school. Anyway they lose the game. So afterwards, him & his friends sneak out of the hotel and end up getting into a fight with the other team and one of them gets injured so an ambulance is called.

And Yevgeny isn’t hurt or anything, just a black eye and bruised knuckles. So he can’t figure out why the red headed paramedic keeps looking at him like the guy has seen a ghost.

But then, his mom and dad arrive, ready to cuss him out for being so stupid. And Yev notices his dad and the paramedic look at each other with that same stricken expression that the red head was wearing earlier, and he starts to piece it together.

And so 16 years after Ian and Mickey’s break-up, Yevgeny meets his dad’s first love and gets to witness their long road back to each other.

#like it would all be Yevs POV #Mickey and Ian would be like 33/34 #and when I say long road I mean looooooong #like this^ would only be the beginning #gallavich fanfic #gallavich #ian gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #yevgeny milkovich #shameless #anyway if anyone w writing talent and time wants to write this pls do #I sorta see it like it would take a lot for Mickey to let Ian back into his life I mean he’s a dad and he’s moved on and he lives in #another city #but Yev ends up becoming friends w Frannie and their lives just sorta intertwine again and they can’t stay away from each other #also maybe yev ends up going to college in Northwestern and Liam went there so he helps him out w applications and again their lives just #end up intertwined again #it’s actually all completely written in my head from start to finish and it would be loooooong I think #maybe I should just write it

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iiep-wop · 16 days

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Not to get sentimental on main but I actually love the Tumblr Red Dwarf fandom so much

I've not been here the longest, I will admit, in the time I've been here everyone I've chatted to or interacted with has been so sweet. I don't think I've ever seen any massive discourses or arguments (actually I don't think I've seen any on here(Tumblr specifically), but that's just cause I don't think I am good at noticing when drama happens haha)

And there's almost never ending fanart's and theory's which you can find from years ago, buried in the site which means that although at the moment theres maybe 30 of us (at a stretch) who'd consider ourselves to be part of the fandom, there's still so much to explore and find

There's so many talented people creating gorgeous art, comics, edits or fics and I feel so lucky to be able to know you guys, genuinely y'all are amazing

We're all just a bunch of silly little guys enjoying our stupid silly space sitcom <33

#sorry for getting all silly amd sentimental about this #but i do love y'all #thank you for letting me be silly with you guys <33 #but yeah #idk #i just felt that i needed to say it #cause everyone here is smegging awesome #red dwarf fandom #kitt screams into the void

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paw-padss · 1 month

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the sun has long since set, and the sky is now only illuminated by the gentle glow of the moon and the twinkle of her surrounding stars. The wind blows steadily in the quiet streets as everyone seeks refuge for the night.

everyone except you.

sitting anxiously by the door, careful not to do so much as a wink, for you might fall asleep and miss it.

miss him.

you don't want to miss him as he walks through the door, with his red hair tied back in a messy ponytail and a tired smile plastered on his face. his musk invading your senses as he practically falls into your embrace, quietly mumbling about his day as he gently kisses along your neck and collarbone.

you don't want to miss the opportunity to lead him to the kitchen table, hanging up his coat along the way, and seating him next to you as you both share a quiet, late dinner.

falling asleep now would mean you wouldn't get to follow him into the bathroom, using the toilet as your seat while he's in the shower, sharing remarks about your day. Eventually, brush your teeth side-by-side in front of the cramped sink.

and then you would follow him to the bedroom, curling up next to him as you both let the stress of the day melt into the sheets, exchanging I love you's before allowing your eyes to close and falling asleep wrapped up in each other's embrace.

that, is why you cannot risk closing your eyes at this moment, you cannot risk the chance to finally enjoy a calming nighttime routine with Diluc.

you must not.

your eyes dart to the clock and back to the door, the minutes tick by ever so slowly, and your brain starts to feel a bit foggy.

you blink.

or at least you thought you did, but when you open your eyes, you can smell the aroma of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen and sunlight creeping through the window shade.

slowly crawling out of bed, you see the sight that you had been wishing to see all night.

red hair draped around his shoulders, a tan apron pressed around his figure, and a pair of pajamas. Diluc stood in front of the stove, turning around to greet you.

even though you didn't get to say good night, at least you got to say good morning.

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p4nishers · 10 months

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random hc but. crowley being a plague doctor in the 16th/17th century bc he's supposedly "tempting people into death" but he can never, ever bring himself to actually do that so he ends up soothing their pain as best as he can and comforting them in their last moments. one night, after he held a little girl's hand as she passed away, he sits down at the banks of the river thames, with his plague mask discarded on the dirt, and he starts out over the water with tears in his eyes, wondering what the fuck is actually the point? it's not the first time he's asked himself the question nor the first plague he witnessed but, here, now after personally witnessing hundreds of deaths every day, he really wonders what actually is the point of him? why does he exist and why should he keep existing. why does he get to live when so many others don't? how is that fair? how is any of it fair? that's how aziraphale finds him, as he just got back from an assignment somewhere or other and hears crowley is in town, so he discreetly looks for him and finds him there, sitting in the dirt, now with his head in his hands, his shoulders silently shaking and is obviously immediately worried but doesn't know how to comfort him or what's allowed so he just sits beside crowley and watches him try to pull himself together. aziraphale's heart breaks, he put what happened together from the mask and the robes and he obviously knows about the bubonic plague but was convinced it was hell's doing and couldn't have even imagined crowley was out there everyday, helping people under the guise of hurting them. is he surprised? no, of course not but it still hurts to see crowley like this. but he's afraid to cross their unspoken rules so he quietly waits crowley out. he watches the water and doesn't dare look at crowley as he lifts his head and takes a few shaky breaths in. after a few minutes of breathing, crowley croaks out "her name was mary" and nothing else, and aziraphale understands, god he understands. it's one of the things they never speak about after it happens but aziraphale can't forget the night he sat with crowley for hours, till the sun came up, as he cried about a death of one little girl. he holds it close to his chest and never, ever forgets.

#neither does crowley. he should've been cast out the second he put that mask on cause he'd never be able to do what they wanted him to but #aziraphale would never ever say a word about this and crowley didn't even have to ask him. crowley remembers how just for a few moments #aziraphale let himself brush crowley's hair out of his eyes tenderly and yearns for smth he will never have #ugh the longing the yearning. 's too much #this came to me at like 2:33 am as i was tryna fall asleep with my little azicrow fantasies and i had this idea for a painting of this scen #and i sketched it in my notes app then was like fuck it and went to sketch it on paper and now here we are #idk if this is coherent and idk if i care #also this was kinda inspired 'and in the waking world we wait and we want' which is a dreamling fic BUT hob was a plague doctor for a while #there and anyway i think about that fic once a day so i randomly steal ideas from that like bro the historical knowledge that fic has???#INSANE. the history nerd in me goes crazy every time i reread it it's so so so good #anyway i went off track there ill leave whatever this is here #good omens #good omens headcanons #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #azicrow #also i dont claim im a writer in any way shape or form im just slightly insane so ignore how awkward this is

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cartoonpigeon · 9 days

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if i was a hazbin fan would you guys still love meeee (/j lmao)

anyways, here's my hazbin redesigns :3 hopefully tumblr doesn't destroy the resolution so the text is still readable, but either way there'll be a transcription of it under the cut :3

the text around Husk reads:

simplified his design quite a bit - i feel like the clutter didn't really match his character and personality

tried to keep the yellows of his suspender buttons in the buttons of his shirt and fly

kept his colour pallet v. similar to the show - just shifted it sightly darker - I feel it fits him well already

I feel like he'd wear more old-fashioned clothing (and clothing in general) than he does in the show - I also feel like the magician type fit doesnt really match husk's character?

PUT THOSE GRIPPERS AWAY!! /j, but I didn't add shoes because i find it funny & I like drawing paws

the text around Angel reads:

more kinky looking choker than a fabric one

was wearing his rosary when he OD'd - either a heritage rosary or a cheap one b/c although he could afford it now, he couldn't then (idk how much they cost in 1910s-40s NY, but in the Vatican city and Roma they go for around (euro sign (I don't have one on my puters keyboard)) 100<) - he still wears it despite no longer practicing since he was 20ish (he doesnt wear it while working tho)

didn't simplify his design like i did with husk - i feel the cluttered look fits him better

fashion kinda based around "office siren" & alt accetics - I feel like he would continue to change his fashion choices & clothing as fashion progressed rather than sitting with 1930s/40s fashion that he wore when he was alive (unlike Husk or Alastor) - I think this is also in part influenced by Val's need to constantly shift in order to get more money

[next to the the right mini drawing] lil mockup for figuring his design out lmao

[next to the left mini drawing] casual clothes mockup

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owlmylove · 2 years

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stop fucking say prev tags you annoying tiktoking fucking dumb cunt. fuck off.

this is. this is incredible. 11 years i've been on this site. 11 years i've spent painstakingly dodging any kind of fandom whump, controversial take, or ill-advised hill to die upon. do you have any idea the amounts of nuclear fallout i have delicately skirted around. the blogs i've seen deactivate, the sprawling call-outs written in google docs. i was raised in the bitter heart of this website and made a garden of it. and the thing that finally gets me cyber-bullied by teens is prev tags

#prev tags #i don't even have a tiktok!#are you going to every single person who says and sending these messages bc oh honey. that is not what you were put here for #do not waste your one wild and precious life on tumblr!!!! let alone sowing hate!!!!#may you go smoke some weed & find a joyful purpose<33 #owl post

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