Hi hi, (this is my main, my selfshipping blog is drowning-in-clowns) we share Sun (FNAF) and Candyman (Lethal League)!! :3
Here are some old doodles!!
okay FIRST OF ALL the adoration of Silly Yella Fella is deeply appreciated we love a Silly Yellow Guy in this house SECOND
YOUR ART??????? IS SO GOOD????? OH MY GOD THE PERSPECTIVE ON THE PIN WITH CANDYMAN?????? I am in awe at your skills you're so powerful...
EDIT I WAS SO BLOWN AWAY I FORGOT TO ASK YOU TO COME TELL ME ABOUT YOUR SELFSHIP WITH THEM PLEASE???? IS THAT A SECURITY GUARD TYPE S/I??? WHAT'S YOUR DEAL WITH CANDYMAN THERE'S LIKE NO LETHAL LEAGUE SELF INSERTERS PLEASE COME RAMBLE TO ME ABOUT YOUR S/IS!!!!!
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a polite kiss for those who like fics
a running hug for those who reblog
bawling if you share to your friends in servers
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Was going through my old art folder tidying things up and realized that I don’t think I ever shared my full piece for the avatar cookbook zine I was in years ago??? So uh here’s that I guess a;lskdfj - the piece on the right was one of the other ideas I pitched, I still like the color thumbnail a lot!
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This is quite an odd wording. Is he implying that ordinary people aren't familiar with the existence of ability users... ?
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I love when I see posts like "Share how many crochet WIPs you currently have! I have 5, it's so many!"
Like, girl, I have unfinished projects from over a decade ago that I refuse to frog on the off chance I decide to finish them. I've found years-old projects I forgot I even started and will impulsively just finish it on the spot. I've started three different projects in the last 2 months, including one I started yesterday, that I already know I may or may not finish within the year depending on motivation.
The number of WIPs I have is infinite.
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for whatever reason, you're there after the war. for touya—not dabi.
once he's moved out of the hustle and bustle of the city and to an intimate little place, somewhere a bit quieter. with his family, of course, as his entire being just—heals. he's given the time and the space and the patience that he needs, but it's not easy. almost feels like it's never going to be.
he comes and goes in waves; thunderous and loud and all consuming, another crash upon the shore. in anger and pain, in fear and hatred, with a kind of madness that you could never hope to understand.
and then sometimes, he is quiet. when you help change the wrappings on his body or when you offer the help of an arm he doesn't have or when you just sit with him, fully clothed, underneath the ice cold spray of the shower.
in these moments, it's almost like he's been gutted, like everything he had inside was scooped out—and it sounds like it should be terrible. but touya watches the carefulness to your hands and how you tie his shoes and lets you rest your head on his shoulder when you're sitting side-by-side in the tub, because he's still as warm as he's always been.
and you think maybe it isn't so bad that all that was removed, when they sewed him back together; all the anger and pain, the fear and hatred, the madness that's nowhere to be seen in those bright and clear eyes of his.
without all that in the way, you hope—you all do—that something new will grow it its place.
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