#and it helps with coat change

[nefja]

Bath time for this thing

[nabaath-areng]

Been impossible to take photos of these nails due to horrible weather lighting, but since it was specifically inspired by Ieeha I needed to figure out a way... thank you closet for having surprisingly decent lighting and dresses for being a surprisingly decent backdrop!!!

[echidnacht]

Some designs for the crew of the carte blanche! (in order: Juno, Jet, Nureyev, Rita, and Rita!)

[dxxtruction]

Not to psychoanalyze (Yes, to do that), but given Armand's history, his only preconception of what love is, is to view it through pure desire. Love - and more broadly accurate, his life purpose for like half a millenia - as only he's ever known it, has only been experienced through transactional wish-fulfillment fantasies, of which he was the one typically sought after to complete such an exchange. And so naturally, in his own seeking, he replicates it. Though to some degree he also replicates the fantastical existence of fictional romances to compensate.

This lack of true experience of love without desire or fantasy, making his always unfilled 'objet petit a' - his object of desire - (a partner he desires a particular love from but does not receive to his fulfillment) - the catalyst for believing there is no other form of love to be had. That he can simply love the person, and be altruistic to their personhood, without them filling a role or desire for him, just would never occur. He's egotistical and overly pragmatic towards others by the fault of formative experiences denying him his own personhood. In being groomed into the object of desire, he no longer sees anyone else but as such. It's equal parts lack of self-awareness, meaning he simply has no way to counter-reflect upon himself the way one should behave, and developed coping mechanism, either consciously or unconsciously, taking on the role of those who inflicted upon him their desires to gain a sense of control over it.

In never escaping this cycle of love as desire, he always denies himself his full person, and simultaneously denies the personhood of others.

[phantom-bleu]

God ok i spent an hour on this got frustrated and then realised i DONT give a shit and dont need to finish it but like does anyone get the vision? anyone?

[veveisveryuncool]

new (revamped from a super old) oc! i don't have a proper name for them yet so i've just been calling em The Creature in the Forest in my head lol

check them out on artfight! unshaded + color tests under the cut :]

[get-rammed]

So what's Foxy think of their handler, then? Does he watch Roxy fall for them and tease/offer bad relationship advice? Maybe become a little smitten himself?

Foxy doesn't like Matt, and never has. Something about the guy has always rubbed him the wrong way, and now he's permanently stuck looking at the bastard. Roxy is used to ignoring Foxy whenever Matt is around. Foxy didn't care for Matt as soon as he started. But in all honesty, he never cared for any of the like. Base Handlers besides his own and Bonnie's.

If we go the route of the viewer insert being Roxy's Handler, then he's a little more forgiving but still "Mmm you should be careful lass, Humans don't last forever, an that one is WEIRD". But over time mayhaps see Roxy's reason for liking them, and come to find himself falling for them too.

As for Foxy's base Handler. Well.

She quit soon after Foxy was decommissioned. She was no longer contractually obligated to be there, and couldn't handle seeing Roxy essentially wearing Foxy's face all day. She had no idea Foxy could even potentially be trapped inside Roxy. They assured her he would be completely wiped.

So tragically Foxy doesn't get to see her again, but did get to say goodbye.

[lepurcinus]

Just a reminder that in any media where you see a rabbit "changing" its fur to white in winter it actually represents a hare.

And that most "rabbits" you see in Eastern European and Asian source media are also hares for the most part.

And that any white rabbit in the wild, if not albino/leucistic is a domestic rabbit that got lost there and probably won't live more than two days with that color.

[nefja]

She found still intact wood in her tasty bog soil and sorted it out á la "nope that's wrong, i just want my sweet sweet dirt"

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

asap im gonna go live in the coldest possible place

[arolesbianism]

Anyways incorporating new saint hcs into my semi au Sliver lore means that now saint gets to continuously experience ascending Sliver forever 👍

[butchshepherd]

Kind of a rhetorical question and more of a vent but how do you get over having an "all or nothing" attitude because it's making it hard for me to not get upset and discouraged when I have to admit to myself that there's no guarantee we'll be able to live with the kind of dogs I'd like to have, mainly because of allergy issues. One notable thing about this is I'm pretty sure shepherds and herding dogs are like a special interest to me, on top of the "normal" interest I have in them if that makes sense, and that's why I struggle with the thought of potentially never having one so much. I know it's a good thing to expand your options and keep an open mind and research different breeds but part of me just doesn't want to because that means accepting that there's no guarantee of anything really, and that's what makes me want to give up the whole thing and stop caring entirely 🥲 even though that makes no sense.

[favvnsongs]

@fischiee @whitmanic besties I'm having the most agonizing tender angsty blorbo feelings rn ololo

[bittermarrow]

SLASHER-ABYSS -> BITTERMARROW

[heyitslapis]

Even when I thought we had boundary of just friends, she confuses me.

I tell myself to ignore it. That it's just a game for her and that she really is just comfortable with me as a friend.

But we all went out Sunday night (you, me & Sam). You asked us again if Sam & I were still "not a thing." We both told you the truth (for like the 10th time): we're not a thing. There's no sort of situationship or anything like that. We're just friends.

**((also I fucked up one of my tags I meant to say that Alice told buddy boy that I threatened to kill *him* again, not that I threatened to kill her. He sounded really serious when he said "i promise v, im leaps and bounds better than anyone shes had before. I would never hurt her." I said "Oh, im sure. Its because thats who you are Ty. Thats what you and I do. We protect people." I'll be so honest yall i was crossfaded as fuck because i was running iff 3 hours sleep & literally no food almost the whole day leading up to our outing. NOT doing that again jfc))**

[sunni-stuff]

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.