#and i started it literally 3 days ago

[jinglebunns]

it’s kirby’s return to dreamland deluxe release day!! yahoo!!! 🎉🎉🎉

[saphushia]

|| part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 coming soon... ||

man sabo really thought he'd get away from ace that easy, huh? well tough shit buddy you just got the attention of one of the most stubborn men on the seas. i do wonder how this'll play out now that sabo's cornered... hehe >;3

textless versions below the cut for those who want to look at. pictures <3

(skipped page 5 due to. y'know. it not having any dialogue)

[autisticandroids]

CASTIEL: Stop. What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me - not love, not respect, just fear.

[youtube with closed captions]

a godstiel pity party. i'd like to thank an anon i got way back in february of 2021.

[koszmarnybudyn]

Kayne drawing because i really like him also some other malevolent doodles because i wanted to explore some designs:

[ifyoucandaniel]

hey guys, it’s ya boy, queen of never finishing anything because i hate my art and spent too much time on the sketch and ran out of motivation 😎

[papakhan]

recent stuff i'm seeing on this website is reminding me of the shitfit I got hurled at me last year when one of my posts about trans-Papa went around and people telling me I was being self-transphobic and "mocking trans bodies" and "Secretly a Fetishest" or "secretly a cis woman" and whatever the fuck because I gave him boobs and said he had a baby and man it really is dumbfounding how literally fellow trans people will be so vitriolic and hateful towards someone who is literally just expressing their transness and trying to be more comfortable with their own body via a depiction of a character or oc and when these people get pulled up on it Immediately start using their own dysphoria as a shield from criticism.

if it is an instinct of yours as a trans person to start self-flagellating and getting distressed and hurling insults when you see a trans man with boobs or a trans woman with stubble, this is something you need to recognise and challenge within yourself.

[wra-1-th]

god hannibal is so fucking in love, "we are her fathers now, will" oh so you're married is that what that is. "Will and I will do everything in our power to protect you, Abigail" yeah you're married and you have a daughter together we get it, just go fuck already

[tarnussy]

being distracted by thicc brick house of a man, what a way to go

[myokk]

finally got around to cleaning my gremlin art cave 😇🙏

[soracities]

Why are you inclined to wait for the hype to die down before listening to the album? just curious, no need to answer:-)

honestly it's just a v distinct feature of my brain in that for god knows WHAT reason i just do not get w things at their peak (if i do at all). i've been like this since i was like 8 so i think its partly just preferring to do things at my pace rather than because everyone else is (also i feel like people get weird w hozier online and i want to be away from that). but also if i'm partaking in / discussing something i much prefer to do it intimately so before anything else i will absolutely be flooding @agapebynicholasbritell and @dearorpheus DMS when i finally listen to it 💗

[wackysach]

the brainrot is so intense but the motivation is lacking. literal torture, this is. the ideas are in my head but i Cannot Get Them Out.

[zymstarz]

i got adhd meds recently [FINALLY IM CRUISING] and i know theyre starting to work because for the first time ever i am PHYSICALLY ABLE to listen to the adventure zone. so i did in fact lie when i said my brain had no more room for new guys BDJHSJTJ

[yootaesowl]

FNC just announcing that Cherry Bullet's activities ending today, and they're disbanding... LIKE WHAT?! HOW IS FNC EVEN IN BUSINESS WITH HOW HORRIBLE THEY RUN AND BOOK THINGS AND DO THIS?!

[ghostclangen]

Marshlily dreams of the Dark Forest again. The smell of rot fills her nostrils, and she retches, barely holding down the contents of her stomach. She’d dreamt about it every night for moons now, but she still can’t get used to the squelching of mud between her toes, the only sound in the uncannily silent expanse. What did she do to end up here, so far from StarClan?

She takes a few steps forward, but quickly stumbles. The shaking is worse here, rapid jerks that make it difficult to walk—not that trying to run away would save her. 

“Is anyone here?” she calls, as she always does; her words are chopped up by the tremors that wrack her body. It’s with a frozen feeling in her stomach that Marshlily realizes that that’s not the only thing cutting her off; in what feels like just seconds, her throat has become clogged with foul-tasting blood. She hacks it up, splattering red on the damp ground, but it just keeps coming, choking her more and more by the second no matter how much she coughs and splutters.

This hasn’t happened before. This is new. Panting between coughs, she stares down at the pool of blood that’s growing on the grass before her. She’s faint, fainter than she should be; it’s not so much a loss of blood that makes the world bleary, but a sort of … a sort of … Marshlily shakes her head, unable to think of some way to describe it but finding herself unable to think of the words. 

She digs her claws into the earth to keep herself grounded. Her mind, however, can’t be gathered so easily; the dissolving feeling lingers. I’m all apart, the part of her that remains within in her grasp thinks. Through a mouth of blood, she gives a garbled cry once again: “Is anyone here? Help me!” 

After a few moments of silence, Marshlily hangs her head and whines gutturally. Why does she even try anymore? Nobody ever answers …

And then someone does. 

A familiar voice echoes in her ears, high-pitched and scratchy: “Marshlily …”

Weakly, Marshlily lifts her head, her ears pricked. “... Hornetstar?” she asks. “Where are you?”

“We care about you, Marshlily.” “We need you, Marshlily.” “Come home, Marshlily.”

Marshlily looks frantically from side to side, looking for Celebi, Crageagle, and—her heavy heart jumps in her chest—Charredtail. “Where are you? Where is everyone? Did you come to rescue me?” 

As the voices continue, they begin to sound closer, and with some time, Marshlily can pinpoint the direction they’re from. She takes a wobbly step toward them, but she makes it only a few taillengths before the voices of her loved ones fall quiet and a piercing scream erupts inside her brain. It’s like that alien feeling she’s been having, but worse, overwhelming her senses. There are no words put to it, no way to understand what’s going on, just a desperate yowl. 

“Leave me alone!” Marshlily cries. “Let me go!” She sinks to the ground in a heap as the screeching continues and begins to scream herself, wearing her bleeding throat raw. Of course it wouldn’t let her go. Of course her only hope would be a trap. The dissolving feeling, which had dissipated slightly, comes back with a vengeance. She really could just lie there and give in—it’d be a lot less painful …

As soon as she resigns herself to the faintness, though, something cuts through the screaming. It’s faint, but it’s there, and little by little it gets louder until Marshlily can finally hear it clearly: “I love you, Marshlily. I’ll always love you.”

It takes Marshlily a few moments to recognize the voice, but when she does, her breath stops in her chest. “Mom?” she asks, her voice wobbling. “Mom, is that you?” Half-remembered memories float to her head: milk scent; a soft, murmuring voice; the warmth of her siblings snuggled up against her. 

The voice doesn’t answer. Instead, it continues, “You have to keep going.”

It’s with uncertaintly that Marshlily gets to her paws, and the screaming in the back of her head never relented, but nonetheless, she does. Her movements are jerky and discoordinated, and she stumbles over her paws more than once, but with nothing else to do, she follows the voices of her loved ones: “It’ll be okay, Marshlily.” “You have to keep trying.” “Just follow my voice …”

She can’t begin to tell how long it takes—it could have been minutes or days; they’re all the same here—but eventually, as Marshlily continues in her unsteady gait, something shifts behind the rotting trees. The air here is always a bit misty, but this is different: a hulking wall of fog hangs ahead of her, condensing in mere seconds as she approaches, as if it were waiting for her. 

Tentatively, Marshlily pads through the last few trees ahead of her and into a small clearing. She can see the fog clearly from here; it writhes like something alive, but she doesn’t find herself unsettled by the breath-like undulations. Instead, she’s overwhelmed by a feeling of welcomeness and love. She takes a few steps toward it and realizes something: she can walk straight now. The jerking has stopped, and when she swallows, she finds that there’s no taste of blood in her mouth any longer. She’s thinking clearer, too. 

“Come here,” a chorus of voices says, and Marshlily grits her teeth. What if it’s a trap? What if she never gets better? What if she falls right back into the thrall of whatever—whoever—is screaming inside her head? 

But then, what other choice does she have …? It’s stay here and dissolve into nothingness or risk the pain of whatever might lie on the other side. With just enough trust to allow the warmth of it, Marshlily braces herself and runs through.

She jolts awake into a world of silence. No, it’s not silent … there’s the birds, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the rushing water of a nearby stream. What’s silent is the inside of her head: no screaming; no vicious, alien thoughts; just her own internal monologue, so much clearer than it has been in moons.

Marshlily takes a few breaths in and out, in and out, then closes her eyes shut. What if this is just a dream? What if this is the Dark Forest playing tricks on her? How can she trust it? 

Tentatively, she brings herself to her paws and stares out across the land; she’d run far from the Cavern the night before, but she’s still high enough up that she can see across all four territories from here. There’s PrairieClan’s, out in the tall grass of the moor; that over there is SerpentClan’s, wrapped in the shadows of the forest; and way on the opposite side is MoonClan’s, a mix of warm sand and tall trees. They’ve never looked so beautiful. Surely the Place of No Stars and its denizens could never create a place like this.

“Marshlily!”

The echoing voice comes from somewhere above her, and Marshlily turns to see Hornetstar bounding down the rocks, Hubert, Celebi, and Nettledawn in tow. She slows down as she approaches, her pawsteps becoming (rightfully) tentative, but she doesn’t flinch away in fright, which is more than Marshlily could ask for, really.

“Hi, everyone,” Marshlily croaks, and winces at the ache in her throat. For a brief, panicked moment, she thinks it’s blood that’s making her voice groggy; common sense kicks in when she realizes that the only thing she tastes is stale morning breath. She laughs at herself internally; of course her throat is sore, she’s been sleeping for … “How long was I gone?” 

“Days!” Hornetstar says. “You weren’t responding, just flailing around and talking to someone. Were you dreaming about Kestreltail?”

Marshlily can’t keep back a melancholy smile at the sound of her mother’s name. “A little bit.”

“Come on, stop with the chatting,” Hubert says, taking a couple steps toward Marshlily. “How are you feeling? Are you still sick?” 

Marshlily thinks on it for a long moment. The violence in her head is gone; she turns to Hornetstar and hears no disembodied urge to attack. She turns to walk a few paces this way and that, and her body doesn’t jerk, or even twitch. “I don’t think so,” she says finally, turning back to the others. “I think I might be okay.” 

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Hornetstar is pressed up against her, purring up a storm. “I was so worried! I thought you were going to … I mean, I was scared that …”

Marshlily chuckles and nuzzles her face into Hornetstar’s shoulder. “You and me both, Hornet,” she says, voice muffled by her thick pelt. “You and me both.”

[beaversatemygrandma]

Interview. Interview. Oh Another interview. Interview. Interview. Guess what's next? An interview that a manager is like "Today at 2pm sound good?" which I took bc yeah, it was good...

I'm tired.

Now will ANY OF THEM ACTUALLY Call Me Back???

[horatiocomehome]

introducing myself to the ISAT fandom is kinda funny bc I've barely even looked through the main tag so far I've just been following people organically from the one person who got me into ISAT and then people in my notifs / on my dash

I joined the main discord and spent about 30 seconds looking through it before muting

I feel like I'm a cat being introduced to a new housemate by letting me sniff it through the door first so I can get used to it before I get fully involved lmaoo