#I always use it hehe

[jslittlebirdie]

Oh my, thank you for thinking of me and sharing this with me🥺 Your message about Joseph made me smile so big. Because I adore him so much, he's a sweetheart. So here's some more random babbling from me😅🤭💕 First, I wish I could've seen him again (and Gaten too, Eddie and Dustin are my favorites💖). Second, I will probably never be able to properly pronounce "squirrel". It's such a hard word for me as a non native English speaker🙈 But I think it's the other way around with "Eichhörnchen" too (yes, the spelling was right). Third, I heard that Joseph actually learns German, so this makes it even better. And I can totally see me teaching Eddie. The most random words and phrases and probably some swear words too. Just for the shits and giggles😌🤭 But seriously, it means a lot to me if he'd let me teach him. Omg now I see us reading the German and English version of Lotr together🥺😭 This made me grin, you're so right. He's such a silly and loveable dork. Thank you for that, my dear friend🥺💜💜

[yvotoro]

hi everyone! i had the pleasure to collab with Vograce to make some stickers, acrylic charms, and pins! i like how vibrant they came out ^_^

they're up for sale in my new shop 💙 you can leave a note of what'd you'd like me to doodle for you in your order~

[machinegrl]

morning routines in a quaint little apartment

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!

[geodenes]

can someone PLEASE be insane with me about them

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

@uncleskyrule your tags were far too good to ignore

this is a sequel to this

also i think i'm finally starting to get the hang of drawing on a computer :D

[god-of-this-new-blog]

Treats for L

[lordbucketofthecaribbean]

Every👏 fukin👏time👏

I don’t remember the 90s show being this heart breaking someone help-

[iwasneverth3re]

couldn’t decide which background colour I liked more, so I decided to post both!

Full size images under the cut^^

[rosenbergamot]

Something about a bottle of vodka that (almost) jogs your memory

“Scar…” Grian’s exasperated voice rings through monopoly mountain. He quickly peeks down into the first level. His friend is holding the bottle of vodka he had managed to find ages ago. “Where on earth did you find this. How on earth did you find this. What even are you doing with this.” 

None of his ‘questions’ are actually questions; his inflection does not go up, as Grian is not actually curious as to where he got the alcohol, rather he is tired of his shenanigans and trying desperately not to lose his mind. Scar kicks his feet and giggles, his hair leaking over and dangling in the air. 

“Why, I got it from the village, of course! Before I burnt down that house— you remember the one, don’t you, Grian? It seems those pesky villagers knew how to distill alcohol. Have you ever seen that before, Grian? Distilling alcohol? In a village? It’s madness!” 

Grian’s beady little eyes glare up at him from the ground floor. “Scar, I don’t think either of us have seen villagers before we got here. There’s not much we’ve seen.” 

Of course they have. They’ve had to. It was only natural— he knows it in his heart. But they can’t remember this fact. When Scar tries to hold onto the memory, it floats away from him. Things he should know dissolve between his fingers. Things he shouldn’t know linger on the back of his neck. 

He picks up his cane and walks downstairs. The slats of the window are tiny but if one squints and tilts their head in the right direction, then they can see the entire desert and forest sprawled out in front of them. The sands sometimes hold their footprints until the wind blows them away, covers the paths they’ve taken. They’re still working on building up a cactus wall as defense. 

The sandstone awards them a bit of coolness in the day. At night it becomes unbearable, as they both flock upstairs to try and conserve as much heat as possible. There’s always a careful distance they keep from each other in the day, but during the night it becomes impossible to do so. When Grian grumbles and pushes his nest towards Scar’s sleeping bag, curls up right next to him and nudges at his arms until they open and he can be enveloped by him, that’s when Scar truly feels like he’s back to being a person again. 

If they could mend the self inflicted rift that exists in the daytime… well, maybe Scar wouldn’t feel so prone to drinking. As it stands, though, Grian’s found his bottle of alcohol and he is not looking impressed.

“Say, have you ever had a drink before?” He asks as he peels the bottle out of Grian’s hand. He smells like the sun. He’s been out all day. 

Grian scoffs, his pretty features twisting a bit as he obviously thinks about it. “Of course I have! I-- well, I haven’t had one here, but I can only imagine I have before. In another life.”

In another life. If only they got to have that. Another life seems like an intangible dream. 

He hums thoughtfully. He’s only had a few drinks from this bottle. Just enough to stave off the gnawing anxiety and bloodlust that grows underneath his skin everyday. 

He starts to toss the bottle from hand to hand, watching the way the liquid inside jostles. “The taste was at least a little bit familiar to me when I tried some. I’ve definitely had it before! No clue when. I wonder what I liked to drink before I got here? That guy… the other me. I wonder what he was like.” 

He laughs but it doesn’t have much humour. 

And Grian’s eyes look softer when he finally peels his stare away from the droplets racing down the bottle. “Yeah, it would seem that bits of our past bled through into this life. Like, I can’t resist pressing a button or flicking a lever no matter how dangerous it may be. Other me must’ve been a right moron, don’t know how I lived to be… here.” A hum. “And redstone makes me… sad. As if I’ve lost something close to me. Something really important." His face falls. “I don’t get it.” 

Normally Grian only gets like this when the sun falls. Normally he’s guarded, witty, sharp; and Scar is much the same, each of them trying so desperately to preserve what little bits of dignity they have left here. Prideful people. Pride is such a sin, he can see it now. 

He sits down, stares at the swirling shapes of the sandstone on the wall. “Sometimes I can feel my brain try to remember my memories. Things important to me. People important to me. But it’s like there’s a… a block.” 

A strange warble comes from Grian. He makes those sounds sometimes-- bird sounds, that is, which makes a lot of sense given that he is a hybrid, but they only happen in specific circumstances. They’re different each time, from chirps to melodies to whistles to clicks. It happens when he’s bored, when he snuggles up next to Scar at night, when he accidentally hurts himself, when Pizza is being extra cute.

This sound is sad. It rings in his chest. 

“I’ve tried to ignore it.” Is what he admits after a few minutes. “I, um… grabbing this gave me one of those feelings like you described. It was as if I’d done this before. Not just with anyone. With you...” His voice gets real quiet at the end. 

Scar fights to keep his voice even as he responds. “Do… do you think we knew each other before?” Before we got thrown into hell. 

For Scar, the answer to that question is obvious: yes. He felt it as soon as he saw all of them. He felt something deep in his chest when he saw Grian, flashes of memories trying to bubble up to the surface but unable to. When Bdubs first spoke to him, he felt an immediate instinct to comment on his height-- which would have been very rude of him! They’d just met, after all!

Except they hadn’t. They’d known each other before. An election. A moon. A home. What even is he trying to remember? 

“I…” Another sound worms its way out of Grian. It’s more desperate, uncomfortable. He laughs it off awkwardly. “Can I try a sip of that alcohol? I think I suddenly need it.”

For the first time since they began talking, Scar really looks at Grian. His face is tight with stress, eyes shiny, nose flaring. His feathers are all fanned out, his ears twitching. In another life, Scar thinks maybe he also had wings. He can feel an absence on his back, like something has been missing all along, a vital piece of him.

Grian’s wings don’t work. None of the avians have actual working wings that can sustain them for a long period above the ground; they can all flutter, sure, but it’s as if their bodies aren’t made for it anymore despite them having these traits. 

He tries to make his smile as gentle as possible as he passes him the bottle. “Of course, of course! Would be downright cruel of me to make you handle this while sober!” He aims for a humorous tone, but the situation is so fucked up and strange that it falls flat. His smile is pulling painfully at the edges. 

Grian unscrews the bottle, smells it. He makes a face. He looks at him.

“I recommend not smelling it.” 

He rolls his eyes, then takes a swig of it. The face immediately turns to disgust. He swallows it, gagging, coughing, pounding his fist onto the table. It looks just like he did when he tried for the first time. It makes him start to laugh. 

“Scar!” He wails. “It tastes horrible!” 

“It does.” He swipes it from Grian, steeling himself before taking a sip. He only flinches a little bit this time. He looks to see if it impressed Grian, but the avian is flapping his hands, eyes screwed shut. Dangit. “It’s not supposed to taste nice, Grian! Because then you would drink all of it and it would be horrible. It’s the alcohol’s defense mechanism, y’see? It makes itself so bitter when you first take a sip that you run away immediately! That way you don’t drink it all right up and end up gettin’ yourself killed! But it doesn’t work on me.” 

For better or for worse.

Peeling his face off the table, Grian turns to glare at him. “Well, it could stand to taste a little less like… that. Maybe then it would hurt less people.” 

“I guess.” He studies the way the bottle glints in the diminishing daylight. “So… are you gonna have anymore?”

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “Of course I am. Pass it here.”

[local-queer-disappointment]

y'all big finish is fucking crazy anyways here's two art things I arted after listening to "master" (you know the audio drama in which it is revealed that the doctor beat another kid to death with a rock for bullying him and the master when he was eight and then tried to gaslight the master into thinking he was the one who did it. yeah you know. that one)

Here's the Gallifreyan translations

I spent six hours on these btw.... Totally not unhappy with how they came out

[forourtomorrows]

me ? drawing ? i guess so..

[sysig]

A very normal scientist doing very normal gene splicing experiments (Patreon)

[jils-things]

did the yumeship meme with memoryshipping <3

credits as usual, thank you @/beeholyshit and @/lovinglin for their art!!

[envyoat]

hehe it’s the end of lesbian visibility week love u girls

[uncanny-tranny]

I always feel like a broken record for saying this, but there is literally no form of transphobia that is acceptable. All transphobia is harmful - all forms of bigotry toward a group for features they cannot change (in this case, being trans) is harmful. It doesn't matter what gender a trans person is, it doesn't matter if they are a Good Person, it doesn't matter if you like them or want to see them happy. None of that matters because transphobia is transphobia is transphobia.